Post by Darren the Black on Jul 27, 2017 17:58:56 GMT -8
[From the Chat]
'Beware the old in a profession where most die young' went the old adage. Well, Darren wasnt old, but by the way things were shaping up, he would certainly secure his ticket to the golden years. Starting as a slave traded deckhand of nine years, he quickly earned his path to rigger's mate, then to Master Rigger, then helmsman and on to first mate at seventeen years. Then? Well what did any slave do when they finally had the power to reach out and touch the master that had made them bathe in bilge water?
Since then Darren had earned his stripes through impressive navigational feats through reef, storm, navies, and all manner of other conditions that would see most sweat with indecision. There was something about his cavalier spirit that was both refreshing and, at times, downright frightening. His willingness to accept risk was not without reward however, and that was probably the one saving grace that had protected him from a crew that initially had a much weaker stomach than he. Wasnt all their fault they were overly timid though. The previous captain... what was his name again? That old arse-turd of a barnacle... Oh well, that name mattered little now that Darren was in control of the Dread Star. The point though was that the previous bloke hadnt had a sense of adventure. It was always the same, "Go to this port using this same sea lane we proved was safe a million times over. What? There might be an unidentified ship in the area? Well then we will just wait them out in port." That tub was no man of the sea. He treated her like a piece of bread. Bland. Not to be enjoyed. Merely to satisfy an objective. Rubbish. Darren treated her like a proper lady. One to be wooed and seduced. The more pleasure he gave her, the more she was willing to give in return.
'Beware the old in a profession where most die young' went the old adage. Well, Darren wasnt old, but by the way things were shaping up, he would certainly secure his ticket to the golden years. Starting as a slave traded deckhand of nine years, he quickly earned his path to rigger's mate, then to Master Rigger, then helmsman and on to first mate at seventeen years. Then? Well what did any slave do when they finally had the power to reach out and touch the master that had made them bathe in bilge water?
Since then Darren had earned his stripes through impressive navigational feats through reef, storm, navies, and all manner of other conditions that would see most sweat with indecision. There was something about his cavalier spirit that was both refreshing and, at times, downright frightening. His willingness to accept risk was not without reward however, and that was probably the one saving grace that had protected him from a crew that initially had a much weaker stomach than he. Wasnt all their fault they were overly timid though. The previous captain... what was his name again? That old arse-turd of a barnacle... Oh well, that name mattered little now that Darren was in control of the Dread Star. The point though was that the previous bloke hadnt had a sense of adventure. It was always the same, "Go to this port using this same sea lane we proved was safe a million times over. What? There might be an unidentified ship in the area? Well then we will just wait them out in port." That tub was no man of the sea. He treated her like a piece of bread. Bland. Not to be enjoyed. Merely to satisfy an objective. Rubbish. Darren treated her like a proper lady. One to be wooed and seduced. The more pleasure he gave her, the more she was willing to give in return.
