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Captain’s Log | 8-23-114
Not much activity in the last few days. Homgar is a good musician, but a few more days of this and I’d rather watch him dance on caltrops barefoot. I’ll tell Digs to make some.
Captain’s Log | 8-24-114
I forgot Digs was working on locks for my stashes. He insists on making these grid codes, so we can figure out how to get in if we need to, since only we know the rules. Treasure needs to be protected, yes, but that’s what traps are for. I’m not going to remember some crap about counting spaces between tiles. Besides, I love to count the skulls each time we return.
Captain’s Log | 8-26-114
Spotted a Makilaran ship. Gold dragon flag, poncy gilded linings, swirly railings. I’m on the hunt, ship weapons loaded. I don’t have much ammo at the moment, but that’s what spare crewmen are for. The smaller folks can really fly when thrown or launched.
Captain’s Log | 8-28-114
Long pursuit. Might not have much time left to catch them before they reach port. I think they have some magic bullshit- they’re going as fast as us. Nobody outruns Hullripper. I feel the burning in my veins, the quaking in my muscules, the urge to rip throats out. I see the crew are itching to kill as well.
Captain’s Log | 8-29-114
Took some long shots, but we ruptured their sails and caught up. Avenar has proven himself with the siege weapons; ace shots snapped their mast like a knee bone.
We’ve taken six captives. Digs has been designing new tools. Tonight we’ll try them out, and see which of these pigs squeals loudest.
Feels good to be king of the ocean. The king’s got a good damn crew. Digs is a genius with metal and those magic crystals. Hov and Stein keep the hull in order. Slaft knows every way to prepare meat, and knows how to skin a humanoid properly. I’m having bacon tonight.
Captain’s Log | 8-30-117
One of the prisoners claims to be a master chef, catering to none other than the royal family of Solaki. Spunky little bastard bragged about his best dishes and called out our cook while he was waiting his turn on the tack rack. As king of the ocean, I do like the idea of having a royal cook.
Slaft and this pompous little snob “Toomy” are going to have a cookoff in a couple days. Winner feeds the crew going forward. Loser feeds the crew once.
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