Bones, and other things since being sentenced to die.

Since Lawrence back home gave me that droning speech about "gone to far" this and "more than I can look past" that I have almost been looking forward to my hanging. It would be a nice dramatic end to this awful existence I've been chasing away with booze. The ITC freighter that carried me here was at least a fun time. Plenty of drunk and drowsy idiots to beat on, and once you take your first life the second, third, and fifth don't seem so special. Hell, with the ITC goons above cheering and jeering and betting coin it almost felt like one of those fancy Port Town bar-fights. Maybe if this battered old ship doesn't sink into the blue I'll ask the cauliflower-eared old veteran where he fought and make a go of it myself.
 
Trapped in the brig I did come across one bright spot. Most folks tired of my verbal sparring fairly quick, or make the folly play at fighting back. But this sturdy orcish fellow, Un'k'Gala or however you spell it, he truely could not be bruised at the ego. He is either too simple or too earnest to be toyed with. His honest eyes settled me, and I was able to observe his witchy ritual of casting bones. Whether this is actual divining magic or just the superstitious ritual of a tribal beast, the act of collecting and cleaning rats to fill my own set gave me entertainment and him a sense of odd pride. No matter how this trip goes, the simple giant will have my respect.
 
The Mr. Starky put in charge of my unit seems the stereotypical brash type of a decksman, he will be fun to frustrate in the coming days. He set us about a sort of race up the lines and it was indeed a sight to see. The one in the ITC coat climbed like a shaved ape, and the old man and the scribe were more deft-handed than expected as well. The dwarves we got stuck with must never have been south of the mountains and fell like the boulders I'm sure they come from. The lot seems trusting and useful though, and Un'k'Gala was nice enough to unchain me halfway through, so freedom is a nice perk.
 
The courts may have ordered me to some ITC cane farm, but I'll be dead and drowned before I ever let them actually deliver me there. This comical group must see me as useful, perhaps playing at their innocent hearts will endear me to them enough to garner some loyalty. I was never intending to be a sailor myself again, but if we seek to hunt pirates perhaps treading into their natural territory will provide better results than picking at bar trash....