Where Did All the Rum Go? [Plot Quest/Invite]

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"Aw, cripes! Where'd it all go? How can I ship off to sea without any rum in me?"

It was a plight that every pirate in the Caribbean feared. The loss of one's rum. Nothing pained a pirate more than being without his booze. After all, the sea was a lonely, unforgiving place, with deadly waves that could reduce a ship to splinters and even more fearsome creatures. Even the supernatural seemed to play a hand in a pirate's fears, as rumors persisted about Davy Jones and his ghost ship, Flying Dutchman. It was enough to drive a normal man mad. Or to drinking, as was the case of this particular First Mate, who was scouring the hold for a drop of his favorite liquor. Unfortunately, not even a single drop could be found. He groaned in frustration and swore loudly. He cursed the captain for his laziness. They were going to ship off in an hour and there wasn't a drop of good drink anywhere on the ship.

He did know of a place that had rum, but it was in town and he had been ordered to stay on the ship and help the crew get it ready to go out to sea. Besides, with Cutler's thugs from the East India Company patrolling the streets, he dared not step foot into town lest he be discovered. Two nights ago, he had had a nasty run-in with those goons at the local pub. Drunk out of his mind, he challenged them to a fight over a slight that he probably misheard. Regardless, by the end of the night, the pub was trashed, five men had to be taken to a doctor's, several more were out cold, due to injuries and alcohol and the First Mate was sure someone had set fire to a guard's hat. Yes, best to stay on the ship. But therein lay the conundrum. Who would get him his precious rum?

(Doing things a little differently to speed things along. If you wish to join up, there will be a sign-up sheet in the Mirage Arena. Just sign up there and you'll be already to post!)

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Jovial Prince of Thieves It was not the rogue's first visit to the Port, nor would it be his last. These high seas were a highwayman's paradise. Ships bound to water replaced what were, for him, the constant presence of airships high in the air; the vessels surfing thick, rolling clouds and Mist. He was stable on land as much as he was in the air and sea. Finding work was not difficult because manning a ship at sea was little different than the skilled required in the air. Though falling into the depths of the sea did not always assure death. Not always. The island port was always a great place to gather with old pals and restock. It was a place where gambling and drinking went hand in hand with business, making it quite easy to swindle others free of their purses without actually stealing it, though it was not quite honest either with the amount of cheating and drunk bets being had. Zidane was sitting out on the docks, his rump rest upon a barrel. He was finishing up his lunch. A lot of the time the rogue only dove down on opportunity. Working on the docks gave open hand on opportunity had he was already seen by some as holding position as a dock worker, it was a good place to pose and gather information. Treasure hunting was in his blood, but so was the adventure of exploring and the freedom to do so. Now Zidane loved a good drink every now and than. Being smashed in the bar was synonymous with pure enjoyment. The zeal of dancing on the bar with his violin and bow, drunk off his arse was bliss. He was never too picky on what he drank, and was often accosted for what he did drink, many of his favorites of course, by his brothers who claimed the crap he drank tasted like cat piss. But he liked bitter things. Even now the Genome sat upon a barrel with a questionable meat sandwich from the pub, layered with sour, pickled vegetables and topped it off with the cheapest, grimiest mug of ale he could afford. Filling his belly was goal before he headed off to snoop around the ships and see if they had anything worth fingering. Looting from that which was already looted was much easier than sailing the high seas. Two disasters at seas was enough to keep the rogue land bound for the time being. Those waters had some bad air to them!

►TAGS: Next~!

►NOTES: Rum isn't food.

►SKILLS USED: n/a

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

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Walking along the creaky planks, Fang strolled along with her canteen in hand. Life was...well fairly decent at the moment. She didn't have much trouble finding food or drink in all the new worlds she had been traveling along and at that...there was also no shortage of work either. The sea foam along with its salty water were definitely fresh smells that Fang enjoyed. The outdoors was where she felt most alive as a person. Being cramped inside a city or building was not exactly her thing. She preferred to stretch her legs from time to time and just in general...be active. Her hand placed itself lazily at her side while she watched the sparkling water before her form the docks. Colorful banners and fluttering sails spotted her view. A slightly raucous crowd from further back down the docks caught her attention. A group of burly men were unloading a ship with a number of crates, barrels, and cages. Teal eyes noted one man sleeping behind a set of crates. Stifling a laugh, she watched as he was soon found and thrown over in to the water below, flailing his arms.

Another swig of her canteen and a number of squeaky steps later, Fang found herself looking at a familiar head of hair. Her hand instinctively reached behind her as she felt the comfort of her weapon. She grimaced slightly at her past experience, but shook her head. It wasn't that bad after all. In the end they were 'Palsies' as he put it. She spent a few times in the local taverns and was surprised she hadn't seen the little monkey thief in them. Perhaps he just arrived, but it didn't matter. A devious thought crossed her mind for a moment, or perhaps it was more curiosity than anything. She wondered how well he could hold his alcohol. Aside the fact, she had some from the locals. It wasn't too terrible and had a bit of kick to it. She was almost there and noticed her 'Palsie' munching away on something. Seemingly too wrapped up in the munching, Fang drew her bladed lance from her back. Extending her arm, she tapped the barrel next to the messy haired thief. "Oi, look who we have here...'Palsie'."

[Deleted]

This place was kind of fun. People were stealing left right and centre and hardly anyone noticed. When they did it was some big deal but really, they had already lost over half their money and were attempting to claim back a tiny portion. Reno, amused by the situation, had found the entire town of Port Royal to be something of a fascination. It was so unlike anywhere on Midgar he could wander around for ages with entertainment to boot.

What was no so entertaining was being hit on by greasy, hairy males who thought he was a wench. How, he wasn't entirely sure - perhaps they mistook the carefully cultivated pony tail at the back of his head for girl's hair, and the choppy top as some kind of weird style choice. But they were none too happy when he spoke that it was with a male voice and had accused him of cheating. Reno wasn't entirely sure how he was doing that, but apparently minding one's business had become a crime here in the 'innocent' and 'upstanding' locale of Port Royal.

So he had simply stolen a couple of bottles of rum from behind the counter - what a poor place to put it - and went on his way. The docks, seemed like the best place. The boats - ships - were pretty and attractive and probably had some shiny jewels on them. not that Reno needed jewels. He stole practically everything. He stole a lot in Midgar too, back when it was a city and not crumbling decay. He didn't need to. He was, in fact, one of the richest Turks there ever was, but it ws a fact he kept to himself and he rather liked the exercise of thievery. It kept one sharp, nimble and on the lookout for idiots.

Reno jogged to his destination, getting space between him and the establishment who was down two bottles of rum and perhaps a handful of munny. There, he saw a familiar head, munching on food without a care. And a tall rather gorgeous female he had mentally undresed within three seconds of his approach. Hell yeah. if only that was as easy as getting her naked. Something about her manner told him she was a spider, and he'd much rather be alive after sex thanks.

"You get around, don't ya," he commented to Zidane. Reno swung one of the bottles. "I got two. Want one?"

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This was it. The end. The First Mate was going to die of... rum withdrawal and it was that lazy Captain's fault! However was he going to get some rum in his system! Then he noticed the blonde kid sitting on the barrel eating a sandwich, which made the First Mate awful hungry. He noticed the blonde had a tail, which reminded of rumors about the tailed bandit. Perhaps he could get this guy to get him booze. Then a woman came up to the blonde and WOW, was she a looker. She was out of the First Mate's league, but if he had some liquid courage, he'd be able to gather up the spine. Then a red-haired man- wait, man? Yeah, definitely a man, despite the odd hairstyle. Strange characters, these people were. Sure didn't seem like normal Port Royal visitors. Then he noticed the bottles the red-haired man was carrying.

Rum... actually, god-blessed rum.

The First Mate immediately bounded off the ship, ignoring the yells of his Captain. The slothful little rat could go to the Locker for all he cared! He wanted that rum and by god, he was going to get it! He scrambled to the red-haired man and clasped his hands together, putting on his best pleading expression. "Kind sir, could you spare a bottle of rum for this poor sailor! My Captain has seen fit to set sail without any rum and I cannot face the harrowing seas without some liquid courage to aid me. Could I please have one of your bottles? I'll pay you back, God's Honor, sir!"

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Jovial Prince of Thieves The boy ate his lunch, keeping to himself. It probably was not the most edible thing to another, but it would be filling and allow him to push on for a few more hours. Who knew when he was going to get his next meal, so he gorged while he could. He was not the neatest eater, As he bit into his food, the goodies pressed between the flax slices, which barely fit to call bread with their dry texture and thin, barely grabbable surface, would spill out of the sandwich due to pressure causing him to react as to not lose his meal. He raised the sandwich and lowered his head beneath it to bite into the slices of questionable meat, that likely let drying in the back rooms for goodness knew how long. The sauces spread over the meal and pickled vegetables dribbled some sort of liquid that forced him to part his legs and raise them out of the way, in some precarious loking buut cheek balancing on the barrel. He occasionally eyed people as they went by, a number giving him odd looks. He was not sure if it was his tail, which was wiggling about to keep him balanced, or his food. Either way they needed to get over it! He was feeling a bit -- heavy from his ale, or whatever you would like to call that swill. He could barely see straight and was rather paranoid. That was how you knew the stuff was nice and ripe! It would grow hairs on your chest, though that thought in itself annoyed him. His brothers used to say he only like the bitter shit because it’d grow hair on his naked chest! Tch, bastards. So deep in his thoughts he really just stopped paying mind to the movements outside, concentrating on his meal, but that was a pretty awful idea because when Fang walked right up to him the guy jumped, his legs coming down so the soles of his boots pressed against the barrel, his tail stiffening so he did not topple over. What was left of his meal was held out, blue eyes wide. When he managed to focus in the fog of his hazy buzz the male pulled a wide grin as he used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Fang!” He sounded nothing short of happy to see a familiar, and such a pretty face! “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I was starting to think that I was going to have to stare at fat, sweaty sailors all day!” Always turning on the charm, but never scoring points. It had been some time since he had seen Fang. He sure did cause her a lot of heartache and trouble, but it was something worth it in the end. They became friends, in a way. At least he felt they were! Looking up and glancing over Fang’s shoulder, another face came into view. That head of fire red hair was pretty hard to miss. The thief discarded what was left of his messy sandwich: but a handful of crumbs. Dusting off his hands he settled them on the barrel he sat on to support himself. A wide grin spread itself across the rogue’s features. “Two faces I didn’t think I’d be seeing again! Man Reno, you look like shit, yer boss working you hard?” He teased and held up his hand denying the hand out of rum. “Nah man, I have so much slosh in my belly that it can drown a Mu.” He protested and motioned to Fang. “Ladies first.” He offered cheekily. Suddenly a strange looking fellow hurried up to them from the ships. Zidane arched a brow, a sneaky grin curling over his lips as his tail wiggled up and wrapped around the neck of the rum bottle Reno offered, if it was not of course slipped from his wormy grip. Another person’s need was often his gain. Drink and grub were always the key exports and the rarer it was the more it was needed and the more the thief would want for it. “What’s it worth to ya?” Ah, he was still a thief even if he was on the side of Light.

►TAGS: Next~!

►NOTES: Drunk thief.

►SKILLS USED: n/a

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

It was unexpected to meet Zidane here but he knew the kid wasn't of Gaia by the gil he had paid for his drinks with. The bartender, not paying much attention had scooped it up and never noticed it was not only a foreign currency but extra-terrestrial. Gaia was a little edgy about off worlders due to Jenova so the kid had been right to keep a low profile. Reno was just endlessly curious.

"Yo, you got a cheek," Reno sniped at Zidane feeling annoyed. He did not look like shit, and if he did then he always looked like shit. Reno knew himself to be a rather attractive male with vibrant red hair (which was soft) and bright eyes (which could be expressive) and smooth unblemished skin. It was only his clothing which was rumpled. And what was wrong with that? He didn't want to be straight laced and perfect.

Reno shrugged. "Nah man," he said. "I wish there was more to do," he commented. He was a bit bored. He longed for the good old days back when he was just a senior turk and Verdot was still alive to be vaguely amused by his antics. The man always did have more tolerance for his antics than Tseng.

"So you're a drunken lout who knows his limits eh?" Reno commented mildly impressed. He got the impression the young blond would keep on drinking but there he is, refusing because he's had enough. Reno was just going to keep the bottles to himself then when a voice came asking for it desperately. Now he did love to make people squirm.

Reno turned to the little man with a grin. "Yeeaaah, what's it to ya?" Reno asked. He waggled the bottle, holding it out from his body. "What's it worth?"