Snippet #2683438

located in The Seven Seas, a part of Making Waves, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Seven Seas

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Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender
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Donovan looked blankly at Thuron for a few moments after she asked him to lead the way, realizing that Mr. Carrington had not been kind enough to tell him what he would be doing whilst tagging along with her. He knew his job was to keep an eye on her, but beyond that, he was clueless.

As Donovan was opening his mouth to tell Thuron that he had no idea what her actual duties were meant to be, the new First Lieutenant and a young girl came walking up to them. Mr. Donovan was typically a reserved, and observant man. He quickly looked over the pair, noting their mutual exhaustion, mirroring his own, and wondered how long it had been since anyone of them had gotten a good night's sleep and some food, when Miss Thomspon saved him thoughts of food, and and Thuron saved him from embarrassing himself with his lack of knowledge on the subject of her duties, he merely nodded and lead the way as he was asked.

It didn't take them long to arrive, and he kept quiet, only replying with shakes or nods if he didn't need to speak. When they finally arrived, he noted how much nicer it was compared to the crew mess, despite the disheveled look from the previous battles, and wasn't surprised to find that the foodstuffs stored within were of much higher quality as well. Not that he had never been in here before, or that he hadn't dined with Mr. Carrington before, it was just the small reminders of things.
Donovan shook the thoughts from his mind, he was not an envious man, and knew that he was in no small standing amongst the crew himself, even if much of it was due to his closeness with the eccentric navigator.

Without being asked, he began loading the stove as he asked, "What would you have me do, Ms. Thuron?", in his typical, impassive voice.


Meanwhile, as the others were going about their chores and a myriad other things, Carrington was back at his customary spot near the helm, his spectacled eyes roaming over the hurrying bodies of the crew, looking for the any sign of their diminutive first mate. His attention was caught by a group of men pretending to sweep and mop a quiet area near the railing. One of the men cradled his arm gingerly and he could tell they were whining like a team of mules.
Interest and curiosity got the better of him, and he languidly dodged and weaved between the bustling crewmen and came to stand before the group, his leery smile splitting his face as they turned to regard him warily.

'New crew...', Carrington thought to himself, and said, "Afternoon lads! Fine day we been 'avin' thus far, eh?"

The men relaxed a bit and muttered or nodded their ascent, or simply gave non-committal shrugs.

Carrington clucked his tongue at the lack of enthusiasm in the group, the smile fading from his face as he crossed arm over his chest to prop the other up so he could cup his chin in thought. His face scrunched up on mock consternation and he asked, "Why, might I ask, are the six of ye standin' around bein' layabouts when there's an entire ship's worth of work needin' doin'?"

The group milled about for a moment, looking at each, hoping one of the other would answer first. Three of them simply walked away and actually began sweeping or mopping, while the others merely stood without comment until the one holing his arm spoke up.
"That skinny First Mate, the god damn lecherous harlot wrenched me arm when I struck 'er for tellin' us what to do."

Carrington's eyes narrowed and jaw tightened noticeably at the crewman's admission. A grand smile split his features once more and he was nearly beside himself upon hearing what had happened and seeing the results of the encounter. It gave him some more information of the woman, making it clear that she knew how to handle herself in a fight with a much larger man.
It was until uncontrollable fits of chuckling shook his body, that another of the group hurried off to make himself busy, fearing the madman standing before them.

"Ye struck the las?! Y... you actually hit the First Mate?!", he asked incredulously between breaths. He was holding himself up on the other man's shoulder as he held his stomach in laughter. The two began to join in, his mirth infecting them as his laughter echoed.

Still wholeheartedly laughing, Carrington's hand snapped forward like a cornered viper and snatched the pistol from the large man's belt, arched back, and struck him directly in the mouth with the butt of the handle, sending teeth and blood flying. The unfortunate man fell backwards in shock and struck his head for the second time that day. Carrington wasn't finished however. He leapt atop the man, his free hand digging into his prey's throat like vicious claws. The other man remaining in the group, who could have been the other's brother if looks were anything to go by, made a move towards the navigator, only to hold up as he was now staring down the barrel of a cocked pistol.

"It seems Miss Thompson let ye off lucky if yer still breathin' after assaultin' an officer. I, 'owever, am not so forgivin'. Lay another 'and on any of the crew that is not in friendship and I'll sever the offedin' limb and eat it before skinnin' you and throwin' ya into the deep. Ye ken?!", he shouted into the man's face, the mirth never actually leaving his own despite his rage. Carrington leaned in a bit closer and whispered into the man's ear, not caring if he was conscious enough to answer, "I'll make it worse if ye so much as brush against Miss Thompson again. She's mine."

The sadistic navigator stood and pulled the oaf to his feet and roared over the general din of work and splash of the waves. "This is for all ye men who find themselves aboard for the first time. We are a fair crew, and this is a well disciplined ship. 'Ard work is rewarded, loyalty is smiled upon and brothered'ood is encouraged. By this same token, any infraction is severely, and justly punished, most often by myself or the captain. So, let this be a warnin' any man caught 'armin' a fellow crewman, or officer will 'ave whatever punishment the good captain deems appropriate laid upon them. Last time, I got to chop the 'ands and feet from the offenders and we got ta watch 'em swim!"

He abruptly let the man go, allowing to slump down to the deck and grabbed the other man by the collar.

"Take him to see the chirurgeon if ye can find 'er.", he said, and made his way below deck without waiting for a reply.

He was tired of looking for Thompson, he was starving, and still had a slight glow from the wine and his punishment of the oaf. He decided the best course of action would be to get some food and either hope the captain would wind up there so they could discuss their destination, or he would simply go find Nathaniel after he was sated.

Several minutes later, Carrington walked into the Officer's Mess only to smell a fire being stoked and see Thompson and the other woman, Karena, sitting at the table.
Carrington smiled that deceptively charming smile of his and gave a slight bow to the pair. He took a seat of the head of the table and lay the bloody pistol in front of him. He smiled at each woman in turn, the manner might have seemed friendly on anyone else, or anyone unfamiliar with his dispostion, as the young woman was, but could only appear sadistic, or even eerie from someone too familiar with him.

"Las.", he said in greeting to Karen and withdrew a small pouch from his large side pocket and placed it in the center of the table, "Nicked these from the Illustrious if either of you would like one."

He pulled another apple from within, letting his gaze drift over to Ren, noting that, other than marks accounting for the recent fighting, she was unharmed and once more in possession of Nathaniel's pistol.

"Nathaniel must like you, Miss Thompson.", Carrington said conversationally.