Post by BLT | Norginn on Jul 14, 2017 22:14:52 GMT -6
Chapter ONE: The Birth of Progress
The story of clan BLT's inception is a long story. Filled with common interest, gluttony and virtual murder. Before what you currently know of me, i was much different, walking about with little direction from the deserts to the jungles. Earning my lively hood hunting iguana on the jungle cliff faces of the island Publiaculu. The tan ones were worth very little but to find a oxymoronic-geko i would have been well off for months. Everything was bleak until Gotcha found me walking around on the hills of Yehvorika (if my recollection is correct) looking to organize myself and asking if anyone had a good name for our small vessel to leave the anarchist island of backstabbers and thieves.
I had found but one other member by the name of Fmonk, a leader of squadlings by trade as his father before him. An interesting gentleman in lifestyle and shape as he possessed a tail and spoke both English and Portuguese. I had known him a month or two already before this idea of leaving started taking shape in my mind. We met overlooking a valley filled with small encampments of Los Tambarinos, a well known group of Mexican assassins recently exiled from Argentina. It was dark out and I was doing my best to avoid them when Fmonk and I both ran into the same tree. Realizing i was not alone i shuffled through my sack for my pistol. Squinting around the other side with my pistol drawn i made out a man dusting the sand from his tophat.
I asked "Hello sir! Who are you and what is your business beside this palm tree with me at this dangerous time!"
He replied "Same as you I suspect! Trying to avoid those unsavory characters below!"
"How did you know that I was not one of them? Were you not alarmed!"
"No, for mexican assassins do not run into trees."
His point was valid indeed and we hid until morning when their night of drinking took effect in our favor. And silently he lead us both deeper into the jungle. Towards more danger but nothing more dangerous. It was then that I began thinking of leaving this hideous place.
With sheer luck after several weeks we happened by a cabin in the middle of the glades. Where we purchased the owners small raft.
Aside from the fact that we both were of experience, Fmonk more than i, i still had my doubts whether we could stand to leave without further crew. So we occasionally walked together pondering our decision and at last he told me that it would be best if i went off in search of more men and a proper name for our raft.
I bid my compatriot farewell and began traversing the hills. Along the way i shared a few meals with a handful of other primitive clans. But still after weeks of searching i had not found a single able body or appropriate name. The miles dragged on and my shoes began to die. Seeing a town in the distance i made my way there by the following morning. Upon arrival i took up in a bush for a nap and met with the local cobbler later that afternoon. He said my shoes were beyond repair. "You will need new ones!" Hes said. I looked in my one pocket and found but a single pence. Alas it was but enough for a single and not a pair. So i walked a little further down the street and sat upon an old woman's stoop, thinking of which one perhaps required it more, Gotcha stepped out of the nearby alleyway. "Ar' your left foot laddy it looks in much worse shape." Thanking the man i placed my shoe on my left and got up. But Gotcha still stayed as if he had more to say. "I hear you are looking to leave this place, and looking for crew." I replied that I was indeed! He said that he intended to escape as well. He asked how nailed down my raft was and if i had any experience. I said not very well and also that my nautical experience was limited. So he took me to the docks and showed me his rowboat. I was impressed! Not much larger than our raft but that it had a beautiful name on the side of the vessel. Inscribed B.L.T. Due to its likeness with the sandwich, which i do very much love i took immediate interest. Besides that it had but one oar, a sail with a makeshift mast and a container for food and drink. I asked if he would have myself and my compatriot for his crew. Gotcha scratched his beard and took a long puff out of his pipe. "I do indeed need a crew. But a worthy one." So away we went, off to a tiki tavern which i think was one of his favorites. It is there he asked me questions. How i felt about tofu? What jobs i could perform. Whether vegetarians were really racists? But of all these questions he asked we both knew that anarchy was no suited for either of us. After the line of shots were empty and his long line of questioning came to an end, he sat back yet again taking another long puff of his pipe and decided to have me as a member of his crew.
Gotcha's pet parrot Isabelle went off to send word for Fmonk to join us with a recorded message. Several messages were exchanged and finally he agreed to join us. Two weeks later he met with us and Gotcha deemed him worthy, welcoming him aboard too. He was also very astonished at the usefulness of his tail as he could even shuffle cards with it. Not just moving around the deck but even splitting the bridge!
Ignoring the rest of the thieves around us we plotted our course in the corner on an old map drafted in crayon. "Sorry lads that this is the most helpful map i have found, sold to me by a fisherman ten years earlier. Now that we are able to leave where shall we go?" Fmonk quickly stated raising his finger in the air "Whenever i have traveled i have thrown a dart and where ever that dart landed i have gone. I have not had the greatest luck perhaps if all of us threw the same dart it would bring better luck?" After much consideration and heavy drinking we pushed through the other occupants and pinned map to the dart board. Stepping to the back of the tavern we took the same dart in hand and just when we were about to throw it i shouted "Wait! A blindfold!" Fmonk then questioned "Why?" Thinking it was the best idea and perhaps that it would provide us with more luck i convinced them that we should go through with it. I asked the bartender for a discarded rag. He went rummaging underneath and gave us one while smiling, finding the whole scenario amusing. One at a time we tore some pieces of the bar rag to our heads. All grasping the dart we gave several practice tosses and then deciding we should throw it underhand. As the rest of the bar became entranced they began to give small chuckles and began whispering subtle obscenities. But during our preparation the menacing bartender loomed closer to the board eyeing the
crowd and looking to make a further mockery of us waited for us to throw. The dart then shot off into the air in an odd direction like a fanned peacock being shot from a circus cannon, striking an onlooker, piercing him between his thumb and index finger. Still smiling the man bit his lip to hold in his shriek and pulled the dart out while chuckling. The bartender then seized the dart quickly, stuck it into the map and went back to cleaning his glass immediately with a smile as the whole room burst out laughing. We then took off our blindfolds. Gotcha's pipe fell to the floor, Isabelle's beak cracked a-jar, fmonk put his hat to his heart and i began pounding the table in anger. For it was on the dreaded isles of Canadia that we believed the dart had landed. One of the most dangerous group of isles of the known world. Gotcha took the map angrily and we all left the bar.
"We have to see it through lads. Our job is to find as much about the isles as possible before our voyage. Lots of reading to be done at sea." said Gotcha.
"Yes" replied Fmonk.
"I am sorry to you all for suggesting the blindfold." said I.
"No Norginn," Fmonk said, "we all agreed it may in fact have increased our luck. We will find a better land because of it. It is even possible now that if we do not go there we will be forced by mysterious circumstances to end up there at a later time. I have seen it before. We must continue and then, on the isles of Canadia shall we together throw another dart."
We all were in agreement and spent the next week gathering supplies, and systematically checking out books from the library with no intention of returning them. There was no turning back as stealing from the library was a hang-able offense. When we gathered all we thought the boat could take we loaded it during a full moon and cast off at dawn. Barely fitting ourselves in we anxiously raised the sail as we knew that the librarian over the past few days may have been on to us, "as fake mustaches and glasses only get one so far"1. But we were far out to sea before anyone was upon us. It was the happiest of times as we set off into the great unknown cursing Publiaculu and all its inhabitants nothing could be worse!
Henceforth the real journey began. We set sail that day to glory and fortune.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Character Status:
Roster: Gotcha, Fmonk and Norginn
All in good health and high morale
Ship Status:
The BLT: No leaks, Excellent Condition, Fully Operational
Some General Inventory:
Rations: 3 Weeks, 15xCanned Goldfish
Books: Native Canadia Plants and Wild Life, Oscar's Guide to the Stars, Sea Life that Will Eat Your Ship and others ect
Nav: Compass, Map, Sexton, Loosely Reliable Navigational Charts,
Tools: Rifles, Pistols, Shot, Powder, Harpoon, Oar, Sail, Make-shift Mast, Old diving helmet, scaling knife, fishing net, ect
Clothing: Weathered Jackets, Waterproofed Canvas, Blankets
*(To anyone else who knows the tale, please continue. As i recall the merman Kash was washed up aboard our boat a week later. If you want to tell it from your perspective Kash. If he doesn't someone else please continue in your character's perspective.)
1. Quote from Fender or Ickarus, Al-basrah several weeks ago
The story of clan BLT's inception is a long story. Filled with common interest, gluttony and virtual murder. Before what you currently know of me, i was much different, walking about with little direction from the deserts to the jungles. Earning my lively hood hunting iguana on the jungle cliff faces of the island Publiaculu. The tan ones were worth very little but to find a oxymoronic-geko i would have been well off for months. Everything was bleak until Gotcha found me walking around on the hills of Yehvorika (if my recollection is correct) looking to organize myself and asking if anyone had a good name for our small vessel to leave the anarchist island of backstabbers and thieves.
I had found but one other member by the name of Fmonk, a leader of squadlings by trade as his father before him. An interesting gentleman in lifestyle and shape as he possessed a tail and spoke both English and Portuguese. I had known him a month or two already before this idea of leaving started taking shape in my mind. We met overlooking a valley filled with small encampments of Los Tambarinos, a well known group of Mexican assassins recently exiled from Argentina. It was dark out and I was doing my best to avoid them when Fmonk and I both ran into the same tree. Realizing i was not alone i shuffled through my sack for my pistol. Squinting around the other side with my pistol drawn i made out a man dusting the sand from his tophat.
I asked "Hello sir! Who are you and what is your business beside this palm tree with me at this dangerous time!"
He replied "Same as you I suspect! Trying to avoid those unsavory characters below!"
"How did you know that I was not one of them? Were you not alarmed!"
"No, for mexican assassins do not run into trees."
His point was valid indeed and we hid until morning when their night of drinking took effect in our favor. And silently he lead us both deeper into the jungle. Towards more danger but nothing more dangerous. It was then that I began thinking of leaving this hideous place.
With sheer luck after several weeks we happened by a cabin in the middle of the glades. Where we purchased the owners small raft.
Aside from the fact that we both were of experience, Fmonk more than i, i still had my doubts whether we could stand to leave without further crew. So we occasionally walked together pondering our decision and at last he told me that it would be best if i went off in search of more men and a proper name for our raft.
I bid my compatriot farewell and began traversing the hills. Along the way i shared a few meals with a handful of other primitive clans. But still after weeks of searching i had not found a single able body or appropriate name. The miles dragged on and my shoes began to die. Seeing a town in the distance i made my way there by the following morning. Upon arrival i took up in a bush for a nap and met with the local cobbler later that afternoon. He said my shoes were beyond repair. "You will need new ones!" Hes said. I looked in my one pocket and found but a single pence. Alas it was but enough for a single and not a pair. So i walked a little further down the street and sat upon an old woman's stoop, thinking of which one perhaps required it more, Gotcha stepped out of the nearby alleyway. "Ar' your left foot laddy it looks in much worse shape." Thanking the man i placed my shoe on my left and got up. But Gotcha still stayed as if he had more to say. "I hear you are looking to leave this place, and looking for crew." I replied that I was indeed! He said that he intended to escape as well. He asked how nailed down my raft was and if i had any experience. I said not very well and also that my nautical experience was limited. So he took me to the docks and showed me his rowboat. I was impressed! Not much larger than our raft but that it had a beautiful name on the side of the vessel. Inscribed B.L.T. Due to its likeness with the sandwich, which i do very much love i took immediate interest. Besides that it had but one oar, a sail with a makeshift mast and a container for food and drink. I asked if he would have myself and my compatriot for his crew. Gotcha scratched his beard and took a long puff out of his pipe. "I do indeed need a crew. But a worthy one." So away we went, off to a tiki tavern which i think was one of his favorites. It is there he asked me questions. How i felt about tofu? What jobs i could perform. Whether vegetarians were really racists? But of all these questions he asked we both knew that anarchy was no suited for either of us. After the line of shots were empty and his long line of questioning came to an end, he sat back yet again taking another long puff of his pipe and decided to have me as a member of his crew.
Gotcha's pet parrot Isabelle went off to send word for Fmonk to join us with a recorded message. Several messages were exchanged and finally he agreed to join us. Two weeks later he met with us and Gotcha deemed him worthy, welcoming him aboard too. He was also very astonished at the usefulness of his tail as he could even shuffle cards with it. Not just moving around the deck but even splitting the bridge!
Ignoring the rest of the thieves around us we plotted our course in the corner on an old map drafted in crayon. "Sorry lads that this is the most helpful map i have found, sold to me by a fisherman ten years earlier. Now that we are able to leave where shall we go?" Fmonk quickly stated raising his finger in the air "Whenever i have traveled i have thrown a dart and where ever that dart landed i have gone. I have not had the greatest luck perhaps if all of us threw the same dart it would bring better luck?" After much consideration and heavy drinking we pushed through the other occupants and pinned map to the dart board. Stepping to the back of the tavern we took the same dart in hand and just when we were about to throw it i shouted "Wait! A blindfold!" Fmonk then questioned "Why?" Thinking it was the best idea and perhaps that it would provide us with more luck i convinced them that we should go through with it. I asked the bartender for a discarded rag. He went rummaging underneath and gave us one while smiling, finding the whole scenario amusing. One at a time we tore some pieces of the bar rag to our heads. All grasping the dart we gave several practice tosses and then deciding we should throw it underhand. As the rest of the bar became entranced they began to give small chuckles and began whispering subtle obscenities. But during our preparation the menacing bartender loomed closer to the board eyeing the
crowd and looking to make a further mockery of us waited for us to throw. The dart then shot off into the air in an odd direction like a fanned peacock being shot from a circus cannon, striking an onlooker, piercing him between his thumb and index finger. Still smiling the man bit his lip to hold in his shriek and pulled the dart out while chuckling. The bartender then seized the dart quickly, stuck it into the map and went back to cleaning his glass immediately with a smile as the whole room burst out laughing. We then took off our blindfolds. Gotcha's pipe fell to the floor, Isabelle's beak cracked a-jar, fmonk put his hat to his heart and i began pounding the table in anger. For it was on the dreaded isles of Canadia that we believed the dart had landed. One of the most dangerous group of isles of the known world. Gotcha took the map angrily and we all left the bar.
"We have to see it through lads. Our job is to find as much about the isles as possible before our voyage. Lots of reading to be done at sea." said Gotcha.
"Yes" replied Fmonk.
"I am sorry to you all for suggesting the blindfold." said I.
"No Norginn," Fmonk said, "we all agreed it may in fact have increased our luck. We will find a better land because of it. It is even possible now that if we do not go there we will be forced by mysterious circumstances to end up there at a later time. I have seen it before. We must continue and then, on the isles of Canadia shall we together throw another dart."
We all were in agreement and spent the next week gathering supplies, and systematically checking out books from the library with no intention of returning them. There was no turning back as stealing from the library was a hang-able offense. When we gathered all we thought the boat could take we loaded it during a full moon and cast off at dawn. Barely fitting ourselves in we anxiously raised the sail as we knew that the librarian over the past few days may have been on to us, "as fake mustaches and glasses only get one so far"1. But we were far out to sea before anyone was upon us. It was the happiest of times as we set off into the great unknown cursing Publiaculu and all its inhabitants nothing could be worse!
Henceforth the real journey began. We set sail that day to glory and fortune.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Character Status:
Roster: Gotcha, Fmonk and Norginn
All in good health and high morale
Ship Status:
The BLT: No leaks, Excellent Condition, Fully Operational
Some General Inventory:
Rations: 3 Weeks, 15xCanned Goldfish
Books: Native Canadia Plants and Wild Life, Oscar's Guide to the Stars, Sea Life that Will Eat Your Ship and others ect
Nav: Compass, Map, Sexton, Loosely Reliable Navigational Charts,
Tools: Rifles, Pistols, Shot, Powder, Harpoon, Oar, Sail, Make-shift Mast, Old diving helmet, scaling knife, fishing net, ect
Clothing: Weathered Jackets, Waterproofed Canvas, Blankets
*(To anyone else who knows the tale, please continue. As i recall the merman Kash was washed up aboard our boat a week later. If you want to tell it from your perspective Kash. If he doesn't someone else please continue in your character's perspective.)
1. Quote from Fender or Ickarus, Al-basrah several weeks ago