The Broken Anchor tavern was thick with the scent of sweat and rum, a haze of pipe smoke clinging to the rafters. The wooden door swung open with a creak, and Jacob, flanked by Garrett and a few of his crew, stepped into the dimly lit room. Conversations quieted as heads turned, curious eyes peering through the gloom.
Jacob wasn't interested in pleasantries. He knew how recruitment worked in these parts—direct, bold, and filled with promises. No pirate worth their salt joined a crew without knowing what they could gain, and what risks they'd face. He strode confidently to the center of the room, a powerful figure cut from years of military experience and hardened by the months he'd spent navigating pirate life and the dark powers he now controlled.
Garrett followed close behind, his stern expression scanning the room, while Jacob's gaze swept across the crowd. The tavern was filled with all sorts—dockhands, sailors without a ship, and a few men who looked like they'd lost more fights than they'd won.
Jacob didn't waste time. He stepped up onto a bench, towering above the crowd, and raised his voice so it carried across the room. "Men of this port, I'm Jacob, captain of The Abyss. Some of you know the ship, and others of you have heard the stories. They say she's cursed. They say I speak to ghosts, and that I bend the wind and sea to my will."
The tavern grew quieter, more heads turning to listen.
"They say a lot of things." Jacob's voice rang out confidently, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "But here's what you need to know. We're looking for crew. If you've got the spine for it, we've got open positions aboard The Abyss. We've got coin to be made, enemies to face, and riches to claim."
He paused, letting his words sink in, watching as the crowd began to shift. Some men leaned in, intrigued, while others exchanged glances—skeptical, cautious. Jacob's reputation, growing as it was, hadn't fully reached this small port, but the whisper of a cursed captain was enough to stir curiosity.
"If you're looking to live soft, this isn't the ship for you," Jacob continued, voice booming. "But if you want a life where you're feared as much as you're respected, a life where you'll earn your share of riches instead of rotting in a dockside alley, then The Abyss is your ship. We sail for glory, for gold, and for vengeance against the bastards who think they own the seas!"
A murmur ran through the tavern, excitement mixing with trepidation. A few of the more bedraggled men at the bar straightened up, eyeing Jacob with newfound interest. The promise of coin, the thrill of danger—this was the lifeblood of piracy, and Jacob was offering it in spades.
He stepped down from the bench and motioned for Garrett and his men to take a seat at one of the larger tables in the corner. "I'll be here for a few days. If you've got the skill, and you've got the guts, come talk to me. We've got spots to fill and gold to be earned."
With that, Jacob settled into the corner, his back to the wall, and waited. The tension in the room began to ease, and the conversations resumed, but now the topic was clear: The Abyss and its infamous captain.
Garrett sat beside him, arms crossed, keeping a close watch on the crowd. "You think we'll get any decent hands from this lot?"
Jacob shrugged. "We'll see. Desperation drives men to make choices they wouldn't otherwise."
The first to approach were a pair of older men, their hands rough from years of toil. They introduced themselves as experienced deckhands but offered little else. Jacob and Garrett listened, exchanging a few glances, but in the end, it was clear these men were more interested in a warm bed and steady food than the life of a pirate. Jacob dismissed them, knowing that The Abyss needed more than that.
It was later in the evening when a younger man, his clothes stained with tar and his hands blackened from work, approached the table. His expression was serious, eyes sharp as they flicked between Jacob and Garrett.
"I heard you're looking for a carpenter," the man said, his voice steady.
Jacob leaned forward slightly, motioning for him to sit. "What's your name?"
"Barret Hawkins," the man replied, taking the offered seat. "Been working the docks since I could lift a hammer. Used to have a family-run yard before the trading companies framed us for smuggling. My family was hung. I escaped."
Jacob nodded, intrigued. He didn't know Barret, but the story rang true—the kind of betrayal and desperation that led men to the life of a pirate. "And now?"
Barret's eyes narrowed. "Now I fix pirate ships. Done it for three years. I've patched up more holes than I can count. But I'm looking for more than just fixing things up. I want to take something back from the bastards who killed my family."
Garrett leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You got the skills to keep a ship like The Abyss in one piece?"
Barret met his gaze without flinching. "I've worked on worse, and I've made them sail. If I can't keep The Abyss floating, no one can."
Jacob smirked, appreciating the man's confidence. "Welcome aboard, Barret. We've got plenty of work for you."
Over the next few days, Jacob repeated the process. Each night, he returned to the tavern, making his pitch for men who wanted to sign up for a life of piracy aboard The Abyss. Some came willingly, drawn by the promise of riches and the growing legend of the cursed captain. Others hesitated, uncertain of what they were signing up for, but in the end, they joined out of desperation or a need for escape.
By the end of the week, Jacob had found a few more crew members, including Finn "Cookie" Murphy, a sharp-tongued cook with a flair for making the most out of the worst provisions, and Silas "Whisper" Hale, a quiet, resourceful man who could disappear in the shadows and move without a sound.
As Jacob sat in the tavern on the final evening, watching the new recruits gather their things and make their way toward The Abyss, he knew that the ship was beginning to take shape. It wasn't a perfect crew, and not all of them would last, but it was a start.
The real test would come when they took to the seas again.