If there was ever such thing as a calm before the storm, then Woodes knew every sense of it. Every sense of loving embrace before violent strikes. Every moment of happy smiles before anguish and the cawing of angry screams. Every damned thank you and please heard having second agendas and judgement, like a hammer being brought down to cast victim and violator upon whatever prize and punishment should be given. Woodes Roger knew all of this from the second he was born. Not from single handed abuse or unjustified cruelty, but because he was born in the cabins of a hull where all the most dangerous people lay their heads at night. Killers. Scurvy scum. Bilge-rats. Marauders. Pirates. Who in their right mind would conceive or birth the baby of a pirate, whether man, women, mer or beast. Other pirates most likely... it is best to think that way at least.
The Siren's Breast sat on the edges of Kraken Eve, right by a filthy old harbor in Triviago Bay called the Gunk, which was named due to it being the main outsource of plumbing and nasties on the south side of the island. The place stank but had little to no guards or law enforcers so it ticked one of the only 3 requirements for a pirate to call it their second home (with their ship being their first). The other 2 requirements were easy to match, being; dry land and rum. The Siren's Breast itself is the definition of scummy and dangerous, being a hotspot for pirates around all of Brovingdofe deep, and if Brovingdofe was not a lost and inescapable archipelago, possibly a pirate hotspot for a thousand more miles. The crummy mix of guilgat (a wood abundant in the archipelago) and spruce wood was used to construct the walls of the tavern, but most surprising of all was the high quality cut stone pillars holding the rum shack up. It was no secret that Amanda Crumb, daughter of the Tavern owner Belus Crumb and his first wife Ulivia Crumb, was having relations with a higher class Stonemason in the eastern dock, Yarlem Landing. The walls of this drunkards wet dreams were lined top to bottom with beheaded animals and monsters that Belus would proudly tell the story of, having slain them long ago, before even the time of Blackbeard.
Woodes, only 10, ran threw the legs and under the arms of the putrid patrons of the family run tavern. He kept himself low right up until reaching the bar. Woodes pressed his belly against the counter and hands tucked in to hide his almost ethereal white skin, right under the round red nose of Belus Crumb as he served an extra tipsy patron with a Leviarum. A drink so strong it would put a Vampire out of their senses for nights. As Belus laughed (and consequently closed his eyes as always) Woodes quickly swung his body round to the other end of the counter and crept behind the old fart, grabbing a bottle of rum and a small vial of bitters, though that was not what he truly wanted. His bare feet made little noise as he kept creeping, his eyes on a treasure greater than all the hundreds of liters of alcohol—The Gyroblade Regalia.
Though it's name suggests it, the weapon doesn't boast opulent gold or ostentatious jewels. Instead, it exudes a wispy, almost diaphanous elegance that gives the stagnant blade movement, not much different from the man who wielded it. The dark polished metal with a velvet-like sheen absorbed and reflected the dim tavern lights in a mesmerizing parley. Across the midnight spine the subtle cresting of engravings danced through, with spectacular symbols that weaved into one another. Waves cresting, stars twinkling, and compass roses guiding the way. All the stories Woodes had heard were always encouraged as half-truths and tall tales, but this sword and Crumb's convincing Scottish accent always made him feel differently. Beneath it all, Belus Crumb had an unmistakable connection to the seas and the cosmos.
Half-hidden in the folds of casted shadows, the legendary unsheathed cutlass called out for adventure. Woodes tiny heart raced as he edged closer with held breath, the little boy stretching out his arm, trying to reach the blade, the tips of his fingers glancing the pommel. He hauled his body up a little further using the bottom shelves right up till his hand could come within inches of the fabled blade... closer and closer till...
A loud explosion of noise rings out through the tavern and the lead bullet from the flintlock it was shot from whizzes past Woodes's face, blowing a bottle of rum open, causing its contents to spill on little Roger's scruffy black hair, and loosening the unkept locks forming inside. The Tavern went quiet for just a moment until the culprit, leaning against the wall with his long stained red coat and likely stolen feathery hat, brought himself up and took a few echoing steps forward toward Belus, face concealed by the bow of the cavalier cap. Tucking the gun away he lifts his head to deliver a fiendish grin.
"Ah, Ol' Captain Crumb," drawled the man, his tone as smooth as whisky on a moonlit sea. "Your ears have weathered the years, I see. Has that wooden leg of yours sprouted anew?" he jokes, laughter roaring out by those around, as the man whips his hat off and throws it over to Woodes, it landing perfectly on his head. In response Belus laughs his lungs out and heaves his peg leg onto the table.
"It'll grow back when yer teeth fit right in yer ugly old maw, First Mate!" Crumb laughing with his portly stomach pushing out. His second wife Dalia Crumb, whose raven black hair turned the heads of those who saw her, shook her head in amusement, serving another watered down beer to a near-death drunk patron and let out a groan.
"Beauregard! Crumb! You aren't pirates anymore, so stop with the silly titles before you rope little Woodes into foolish danger." snapped Ulivia Crumb, Belus's first and most sensible of the three wives. Her hair was a deep red that could contest Beauregard's, and thick enough to remind Belus of the days before he started balding. The full figure and clustered freckles made Belus's heart skip beats as he got lost in them the same way he would get lost in the stars.
"Ulivia! Dinnae be sayin' such things 'round Woodie! The language, lass. Mind yer tongue!" Belus joked, but with a sense of genuine care for the boy. He turned around to face little Rogers, who's attention was set firmly on Beauregard's black, wide brim cavalier hat with red accents and fancy Silver trim along the under side. He ran his finger along the black ostrich feather of the hat. Belus knelt down to the boys level and Beauregard sat atop the bar counter, taking a bottle of rum from beneath.
"It'll be your old half-truth stories that mess with Woodes's mind. Young boys are very impressionable," laughed Dalia, "I should know since you've put one in me and another in the oven." she teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips, quickly covered up by a delicate hand as her face slipped into a rosy hue.. The tavern wooed at the news. Crumb shot a charming wink at his wife, who playfully blew a kiss his way.
"Oh, wonderful news!" Ulivia excitedly exclaimed throwing her hands in the air and running in to hug Dalia who just managed to place down a tray of drinks she was serving before the embrace rocked her body with the impact. The two girls hopped about almost knocking a few guests over in the process.
Ulivia gasped as she grabbed hold of her close friends cheeks, Ulivia's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Just you wait until Sobana hears about this," she teased, her grin widening. "She is going to be so very jealous!"
Suddenly, Ulivia's eldest son, Drovad, spoke from the top of a staircase that led to the guest chambers with a wry grin that only emphasised the lipstick of many colours across his face. "Great. Mother Sobana is gonna drag Father into her chambers and leave us all without rest," he quipped, earning hearty laughter from Belus, Ulivia's husband.
Ulivia's expression shifted from amusement to mock indignation, grabbing hold of a framed magical slipper a few feet away from her, the Elvish heritage evident in the pointedness of her ears and sudden accent switch. "Drovad, you know better than to speak of such things!" she scolded in Elvish, her tone firm, as she chased him out of view from the patrons, a thundering spank ringing out, alongside a series of elvish scolding's and laughable screams.
"Ach! Me wife's favourite magical treasure. The slipper o' a thousand thunders!" Belus exclaimed, not even trying to hide the magical grin alight on his joyous face.
The Siren's Breast was a tavern unlike most other taverns, as despite it's look, the stories and air of the space painted a tapestry of love.
* * * * *
Boom! The sound hadn't shaken the tavern too much, seeing as Triviago bay was mostly a pirate haven, though it took some by surprise. Belus Crumb and Mackalago B. Beauregard shared a concerned look, turning towards the door and for a brief moment in expectation of the worst, Mr Crumb using his body to protect little Woodes, and Beauregard reloading his pistol with haste.
Suddenly, with the exuberance of a cannonball crashing into the mast of a ship, a large man with his belly hanging from the scruffy sailor attire, clocking in at a minimum of 380lbs, made his presence clear, not only by the boisterous creaking of floorboards beneath each of his steps, but also by the infectious laughter that seems to follow. Beneath the chefs bandana, dirty blonde locks tousled about his rounded face, and his beaming grin twinkled the glean of 2 gold teeth. The clanking of metal that followed him wasn't from his buckled shoes, but instead from the 4 flasks on the left of his belt, which usually wasn't unusual enough to detract people's gaze from the 4 large chicken drumsticks tied to string on the right of his belt.
"I was trying to shoot him a joke, but pulled this out my ass," he waves the pistol he used before slipping it back into the crack of his man clunge hindquarters, "and accidentally shot him with a bullet! Funny that, ain't it!" The portly stranger jested, Belus, Beauregard and a series of others bursting into laughter at the unconventional, yet expected entrance of their comrade.
Beauregard, still chuckling "I was thinking we may have a problem, but it's jolly to see you've handled it Lucky." Crumb lifted the amused Woodes to his shoulders, as Lucky Lockland whispered to Beauregard who had now approached him. They both shot a subtle look back at their captain, who understood and took it upon himself to take Woodes elsewhere.
Before leaving, Woodes called out to Lockland, giving him props to his splendid entrance. His attentive eyes then locked into the brilliant eyes of Belus Crumb. What brilliantly young eyes. Such youth, and such brilliance.
"Listen old man! I want you to tell me a story. I'll even pay you for your time," Woodes said, taking the rum he stole from earlier out in front of the former captain, who snatched the bottle away
"Woodie, I said nae rum. Wine, shandy, and cider are whit a lad yer age should be drinkin'," the captain's Scottish brogue making a rare serious chided tone.
"But I'm 10..." Woodes a little upset at Crumb's admonishment.
In a moment of embarrassment, Crumb quickly changed his tone.
"Aye, keep the bottle. I'll put it on yer tab," Belus Crumbs fondness unhidden to his beloved son from unknown comings. "In terms of a tale lad, I think I have just the one to tell you. A story about me travels to the Golden Isles and the terrible foe I faced. Killer Cassidy!"
Lockland and Beauregard stepped outside to where the shooting had occurred. The outside of The Siren's Breast tavern was made out of the repurposed weathered ship of the Crumby pirates, complete with the jolly roger, three hands, each one bigger than the last, rising inside of one another, two cutlasses visible behind the hands. Outside, they were greeted by the final member of their four-man crew. Distinguished in refined and vibrant attire more befitting a gentleman lord than a swashbuckler, the final member's posture stood strong next to the corpse, his left hand ashen in colour with broken, charred skin, gripping a hand axe. With a coldness in his voice, he announces, "All in one piece, or shall I quarter them?"
"Hold on there, Pete. Who are they? What's their name?" Beauregard cut straight to the chase as he started downing a bottle of rum.
"If their name mattered, they wouldn't be face down with a hole in their skull," Lucky Lockland beamed still. "But do you know who is important? Who the man belongs to."
"Thorgar Skaldic. He bears the insignia," Pete pointed to the man's neck, which boasted a blue tattoo of intricate teeth and shapes showing a hybrid mix of snake and wolf.
As the realization settled in, a tense silence overtook the smiles and minds the trio displayed. Thorgar Skaldic was a name that carried weight, whispered in hushed tones across the archipelago, the immortal wound. Never known to sleep, nor known to die. He says he will never die, and those words carry his will more so than the names the boogeymen have donned to him. His legends say he dies every second he lives, but there is no creation nor existence that will take his soul, dancing between the bounds of a normal afterlife, and the cursed existence trapped on this inescapable archipelago. He will never die. He will never die, he says. He does not boast it, but he will never die.
Beauregard's grip tightened around the neck of the rum bottle, a tear forming in his eyes as his heart collapsed in his chest. "Thorgar Skaldic... We've stirred up a hornet's nest, haven't we?" he muttered, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
Lucky Lockland, who's grin had all but faded, retracted the blades that were his lips. "The oncoming calamity. We'll need to be cunning and swift if we're to come out of this alive.
With a nod of determination, the trio set about their preparations, knowing that this foe would test their mettle to the bone and teeth. For when the name Thorgar Skaldic was spoken, it meant one thing: blood. Blood is coming through in naught but a river, to paint his domain red.
Back inside the Siren's Breast, Belus finally reached the end of his story, having brought a small crowd around the counter having been enticed by the amazing tale of a truly epic battle between him and another pirate legend, and both having lived to tell the tale. "If you two fought again, who would win?" Roger asked with wide eyes of intrigue and pride for his father figure.
"That day we fought, he was no older than 19 years old and I a dozen or so older. We were equals then, and now he stands in his prime. If we fought again, he would gut me like an ogre!" He said jeering, with the brightest yellow smile you could imagine, even though he had just admitted to his own death. "Dad, I need help over here! This corset is hell to put on!" Called Amanda Crumb from upstairs, half-dressed, covered in makeup and with her frizzy ginger hair firmly set with a little blue bow. Belus called back up to his daughter and told Woodes to hurry along before Beauregard asked for his hat back.
At the end of the day, the people in this tavern weren't all evil, but they were mostly all pirates so an argument could be made. Even so, this was Kraken Eve and as long as people were trapped in Brovingdofe deep, they would make a living however they could.