Vick Sloane



'“What’s the fuckin' point of life if you owe a piece of it to someone else? Shit thing is, it always ends up like that anyway. Take what you can get, an' fuck everyone who 'ates you for it.”'

Vick Sloane was born in the town of Portsmouth to a large family of labourers, where a combination of her good looks, fiery temper and refusal to be demure in a patriarchal society got her into trouble throughout her youth. When a local noble’s son took a liking to her and saw her aggressive nature as akin to a wild horse to be tamed, he forced himself upon her, in the face of which she gouged his eyes out with her thumbs and then, in her adrenaline-fuelled panic and rage, cut his throat with a paring knife, not stopping until she’d sawed his head halfway off.

She stowed away on a ship that night with nothing but the clothes on her back, and after being discovered a few days later, earned her keep aboard the merchant vessel. The following year, it was attacked by The Riposte, a ship under the banner of Eustace the Pirate King. Vick was brought on board as a prize, and endured many tribulations over the years. Eventually, through sheer grit and tenacity, she overcame the “disadvantages” of her gender and clawed her way into a position of some influence amongst the crew.

Eventually, after a particularly profitable venture, she took a small number of the crew and purchased a small Cog, renaming it The Thorn. After one too many close shaves, she opted from then on to work as more of a merchant adventurer than an outright pirate due to its relative safety and consistency.

In 1193, she met Essel and Arianwen, who sought to enlist the services of a merchant crew to ferry them across Saint George’s Channel...

Description
Born: 1168 (aged 25) Height: 5'5" Weight: 119lbs Build: Lean Nationality: English

Vick Sloane is a lean and ill-tempered woman whose chief weapons are not her knives or her barbed tongue, but the rage that fuels her. She has a reputation for intensity and ruthlessness; a personality honed after years of operating within the brutal society of pirates and privateers. She generally remains quiet and stoic unless agitated, and when she does speak, it’s with a rough, gravelly tone and an unmistakeably urban, lower-class accent. She is incredibly reluctant to show vulnerability, and anger is one of the only emotions she often displays.

Notable Features: Scarred hands and back; from desperate fights and shipboard floggings, respectively. A mane of unkempt red hair, often threaded with jewellery. Rarely seen without her hat.

Downtime: When Vick’s actually at the covenant, she’s often found lounging in the barracks or mess hall, sharpening her knives or (badly) whittling some wood. She takes frequent trips to The Red Boar and Nottingham, usually on her own, though she refuses to answer anyone brave or naïve enough to ask what she does in town.

Fun Fact: Vick Sloane is secretly a lover of music, though she’d never admit it. She also met Eustace the Pirate King, and punched him when he made a disparaging comment regarding the novelty of a female “pretending” at being a pirate, which he answered by breaking her nose and then applauding her grit.

Greatest Fear: Intimacy



Characteristics
Strength +1 Stamina +1 Dexterity +2 Quickness +2 Perception +1 Intelligence +0 Presence +1 Communication -2

Virtues

 * Knife Fighter
 * Merchant Adventurer
 * Tough

Flaws

 * Ability Block (Logic)
 * Raised in the Gutter
 * Wrathful

Personality Traits

 * Cynical +3
 * Resolute +3
 * Sentimental +1
 * Wrathful +3

Reputations
Dangerous Pirate 2 (South Coast)

Key Abilities

 * Brawl
 * Leadership
 * Swim
 * Stealth

Languages

 * English 5
 * Gaelic 2

Abilities

 * Area Lore: Britain (Sailing Routes) 2
 * Athletics (Climbing) 25
 * Awareness (Alertness) 2
 * Bargain (Services) 1
 * Brawl (Knives) 5
 * Carouse (Staying Sober) 1
 * Chirurgy (Herself) 1
 * Concentration (Vigilance) 2
 * Folk Ken (Criminals) 2
 * Guile (Concealing Items) 2
 * Intrigue (Criminals) 1
 * Language: English (Sailors) 5
 * Language: Gaelic (Sailors) 2
 * Leadership (Sailors) 3
 * Magic Lore (The Seas around England) 02
 * Organisation Lore: Pirates (Britain) 2
 * Profession: Sailor (Captain) 210
 * Stealth (Sneaking) 3
 * Survival (Coasts) 2
 * Swim (Seas) 3

Combat
Soak: 7 (Part Leather Scale 3 + Tough 3 + Stamina 1) Encumbrance: 1 (Load 3 = Burden 2 - Strength 1)

Typical Gear
A ragged leather hat, a long coat, leather scale (part), two daggers, several rings and necklaces, and many knives balanced for throwing.

Opinions of Others
Fuckin' Witches Arianwen - Spent the whole fuckin' trip pretendin' she was a bird to get a free ride, an' then tries to 'ave a go at me for treatin' her like a bird. Fuckin' bitch. Essel – I don't like 'er an' I sure don't trust 'er, but Coleán's right - we got a fair deal in the end an' the Thorn won't 'ave made it if she didn't do 'er magic to 'elp bail.

Goons Islwyn - A "bodyguard" who don't even 'ave the balls to look you in the eye? I wouldn't trust 'im with my spare socks, let alone my life. I bet he’d fuck those trees if it weren’t for the splinters an' all.

Crewmates Coleán Light Touch – He’s a sound enough guy. Gets along with folk, what I ain’t ever been good at. Gets good prices an’ that, an’ he don’t pocket nothin’ extra for himself. Snail-Drum Sven – Guy ain’t much of a talker, but he knows his shit, he’s strong as an ox, an’ he don’t complain about nothin’, long as he don’t ‘ave to go too far from the ship. Elias – I’ve never seen a man put so much effort into doin’ fuck all, but the little shit’s useful. Got a weird knack for knowin’ the weather, an’ his eyes are damned sharp. Geoffroi – Smart kid. Don’t know why someone that posh is with us, but I ain’t complainin’; he’s been taught proper, an’ he’s the only one what knows his letters. Hann – I been with him for years an’ I still don’t know nothin’ about him. He seems content enough luggin’ shit around, an’ he’s good in a scrap, an’ that’s good enough for me.

Pirates Eustace the Monk – They say he’s made a pact with the devil. Lookin’ at the bastard, I ain’t sure I doubt it. Captain Wymond – He knows his arse from his elbow, but I don’t regret leavin’ the callous fucker for a second.

Experience
Spring 1193: 5xp Athletics, 2xp Magic Lore (Adventure - St. George's Channel)

1183: First Kill and Stowing Away
“That noble fuck just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can’t say I didn’t tell him straight – I don’t think I can get much clearer than “fuck off or I’ll make you bleed, you posh cunt”. Guess he ain’t ever had someone refuse him before. Maybe he liked it, maybe his ego couldn’t take it, I dunno. All I know is he found me one night after a few drinks an’ he weren’t stoppin’ for nothin’.

Much as I scratched an’ bit an’ punched, he didn’t let up. I guess all those fancy teachers of his teached him somethin’ after all. Just not how to be an ‘alfway decent fuckin’ person. Unlucky for him, I didn’t neither.

I felt my ‘eart beatin’ all over, an’ when he let my arms go to get at his belt, I jammed my thumbs in his eyes an’ popped ‘em right out. He fell back screamin’, an’ I just needed him to shut up ‘fore anyone came runnin’. He may ‘ave been a cunt, but there ain’t no way anyone with any say-so would take my side against his. So I pulled his parin’ knife from his belt an’ I cut his throat. He kept gurglin’ an’ clawin’ at me, an’ my blood was up, an’ my ‘eart was thumpin’ in my ears, an’ I was so pissed off.

I just kept cuttin’ an’ cuttin’, an’ by the time the knife slipped from my ‘ands, I’d gone through muscle an’ windpipe an’ bone. I was covered in his blood, an’ my ‘ands couldn’t uncurl proper for a while. Couldn’t see it safe to stick around after that, so I ran to the docks. Took some drunk’s clothes, washed the blood off myself best I could, an’ got on a ship, hidin’ myself in the cargo.”

1185: Captured by Pirates
“The next year, I was down in the hold peelin’ carrots when I ‘eard a cry from up top, an’ then a clatterin’ of feet an’ weapons. Didn’t take much to figure it was pirates, but I weren’t gonna go stick my neck out for those fuckers. Besides, they probably wouldn’t gimme a weapon an’ I didn’t ‘ave no armour, an’ I ain’t stupid enough to put myself in the middle of a battle like that.

So I took the little peelin’ knife an’ got in the shadows under the steps an’ listened. It don’t sound like it went too well; I figure no pirate’s gonna pick a fight they ain’t likely to win, so it seemed pretty fuckin’ stupid to even put one up. But what do I know; I’m just “some fool peasant girl”. If I’m a fool, I don’t know what that makes them, ‘cause a lot of ‘em died.

Next thing, the ‘atch opened an’ someone started stompin’ down the stairs. I didn’t recognise the boots, so I stuck him in the calf an’ he fell the rest of the way. I went at him with the knife, but he took my legs out an’ then pinned my arms. He looked angry, then surprised, then… excited. I nutted him, an’ then more boots came down an’ I got dragged up to the deck. The pirates ‘ad the rest of the crew on their knees at sword point, an’ I got dragged in front of their captain. He ‘ad me taken onto his ship, like I were some kind of cargo. Guess it won’t be much worse than the past couple years.”

1186: Captive Life
“Turns out it’s worse. I should’ve known. Course, the one I bled – Bryson, I think his name is – holds a grudge, an’ a few of his friends besides. Most of the rest… well, they ain’t gonna be all polite an’ friendly. Not when they’ve not had a woman in months an’ there’s one right in front of ‘em. Specially not one who’s fair game, far as the captain’s concerned, as long as they don’t leave any permanent damage.

Bryson’s been gettin’ worse. Last night I pretended at bein’ all defeated an’ then got a good swing in; broke his nose. He beat me bloody after that. I can’t do more than mumble without pain, an’ my eye’s all swollen an’ blacked. I ‘eard the captain ask him to ease up when they thought no one was listenin’. Apparently the others ain’t happy with him messin’ my face up, an’ he come out of that last one in bad shape if he was needed to fight on the next take.

Bryson ain’t gonna let up just for bein’ asked nice, though, an’ the captain don’t ‘ave the balls to make him. I ain’t ever gonna stop puttin’ up a fight, though, no matter how much they beat on me – if you take it, they’ll give it. So I ain’t ever gonna take anythin’. Either they kill me, or they give up. That’s the only way it’ll end. I ain’t livin’ my life bein’ no one’s toy.”

1187: Becoming a Crewmate
“A year of gettin’ treated like shit, but the fuckers ‘ave finally admitted I’m too dangerous to be thrown between crew. I swear half the fuckers ‘ave scars from me, an’ I can’t even remember when my nails didn’t ‘ave their blood under ‘em. Now I’m one of ‘em. It was either gonna be that or they toss me overboard.

They still don’t give me respect, even next to other green crew. They don’t try it with me near as much any more, though. I still gotta sit with my back to the wall, but I get my share of loot an’ the captain don’t punish me for hittin’ the cunts back.

In fact, I found Bryson waitin’ for me in the cargo hold when I was helpin’ unload. Fucker waited for everyone else to be busy on shore or fixin’ the windlass up on deck; he might’ve rigged it himself. He waved his axe around an’ threatened me some, but I knew he weren’t gonna do me in the cargo hold for someone to find. I may be low on the crew, but you don’t get to walk away from killin’ one of your own.

Still, I ain’t gonna let that stand; I do enough lookin’ over my shoulder as a woman among pirates. So I made a show of stayin’ aboard the ship when most were off ashore, an’ then I slipped out at night, swam to shore, an’ found him in the 'orehouse. Didn’t take much thinkin’ to figure that’s where he’d be. I waited ‘til he was done an’ asleep, an’ then I slit his throat. I ain’t gonna say I look back on it fondly, but I was gratifyin’ to see the bastard’s fear as he tried to hold his neck together. I tossed his loot in the sea on the way back. Everyone figured he’d picked a fight ashore an’ it caught up to him. He weren’t liked by many, so no one thought much more than that.”

1189: Joining the Vanguard
“After that last take, I guess the captain can’t even act like I ain’t among the best of ‘em in a scrap. The Vanguard were strugglin’ to get both feet on the other deck, an’ I weren’t gonna sit there an’ wait for the order to pile in after they was all goners. But I weren’t gonna throw myself into that shitshow with nothin’ else goin’ for me.

So I lost the armour, jumped into the water an’ swam round the other side. Called up to ‘em like I was some runaway prisoner, an’ some poor soft-hearted fucker dropped the rope ladder. When he helped me up all gallant-like, I slit his throat an’ dropped him overboard. No one saw, an’ I got up to the captain in the sterncastle next an’ stuck him too. Dropped the hatch an’ dragged his body onto it so the fuckers couldn’t open it, an’ then cut the tiller line so they weren’t gettin’ anywhere fast even if they did get me.

With him dead, the rest didn’t ‘ave the balls or smarts to put up much more of a fight, an’ the vanguard broke through. After that, word got round to treat me proper. The captain had to make me vanguard after that. Don’t know if he actually wanted to give me the respect, or he just hoped I’d get myself killed. I don’t much give a shit. Better loot, more respect, an’ the danger’s comin’ from outside for once.

The vanguard themselves are ‘ard fuckers, but they respect strength. They don’t give a fuck if you’re English, French, Irish, Spanish, Ethiopian – or even a woman. You don’t get in unless you earn it, so if you earn it then that’s good enough for ‘em. Course, I still ‘ave to deal with more shit than most, but tellin’ people to fuck themselves actually works sometimes.”

1190: Serving on the Vanguard
“There’s a new crewmate just joined. Went straight into the vanguard; I prob’ly would’ve too if I ‘ad a cock. Instead I had to spend four years soakin’ myself in blood; merchant’s, crewmates’ an’ mine too. Still, he ain’t bad. Talks funny, apparently he’s from Germany, in the ‘oly Roman Empire.

I don’t know much about him, but he’s fuckin’ good with a sword an’ he don’t look at me like the others. He ain’t got no problem with havin’ a woman fightin’ next to him, but he ain’t scared of me neither. Or of anythin’, so far as I can tell. Last scrap, he saved my life.

They was just a little cog, an’ they tried to get in to hug an island so our holk couldn’t follow in the shallows. Stupid fuckers were too slow, so we got on ‘em first, an’ then in the fightin’ they bottomed out too. Whole fuckin’ ship tipped, an’ the stupid fuckers didn’t even tie their cargo down proper. Got my leg pinned when a crate came loose, an’ some bastard came in to finish me. I might’ve been able to get a knife into him first, but I don’t know, ‘cause the German took his hand off an’ then buried his sword through his chest. Helped me get my leg free, even though shit was flyin’ every way, an’ then we finished the job on ‘em. Didn’t mention it afterwards, neither.”

“Later on, we sailed to Sark. I’d been there before, when I was just a prisoner, but I was kept below deck an’ didn’t see none of it. This time, the captain brought a few of us with him when he went to pay respects to the Pirate King. I don’t know why he brought me – maybe he hoped Eustace would kill me. The island was bein’ built up with defences, an’ seemed just a bunch of ruins an’ huts with a bay.

His crew I saw was a scary gang of bastards, an’ I don’t fright easy; half of ‘em was undead or demons. Evil an’ stinkin’ an’ soulless, an’ they made me edgy, like I was stainin’ myself just by bein’ near ‘em. The man himself came stridin’ over like he was the most dangerous bastard in the world an’ he knew it. Took one look at me an’ laughed. Started gabblin’ on about Wymond’s sense of humour, what I know he don’t ‘ave. About how funny it was to see a woman pretendin’ at bein’ a pirate.

I weren’t gonna take that shit from no one, not with all the shit I’d been through to get to where I was, so I punched him. I weren’t thinkin’ much, else I probably wouldn’t’ve. But in my life, you either respond quick an’ strong to disrespect, or you’re settin’ yourself up for a hell of a lot more. It was like hittin’ a wall, an’ he didn’t seem to feel much of it, and ‘fore I knew what else happened, I was staggerin’ back with a broken nose. A couple of the guys grabbed my wrists to stop me goin’ back at him, an’ he just laughed more.

Said I had fire in me, an’ then carried on talkin’ to Wymond. Didn’t say anythin’ more about me, so I guess at least I showed him to treat me proper. The captain said after that I was lucky to be alive, but the shit I’ve been through, I ain’t ever gonna see that as some great wisdom. I ain’t lucky, everythin’ I am an’ everythin’ I got is ‘cause I ain’t ever settlin’ for less.”

1191: A Crew
“That last take, I chased a merchant into ‘is quarters. He ‘ad a fancy necklace an’ some rings with gems on ‘im. Stupid fuck tried to go at me with a letter opener when I took ‘em, so I put my knife through ‘is eye. I didn’t tell the captain about the loot, though. Fuck ‘im, all the shit ‘e put me through. Him an’ ‘alf the crew – I took it as my payment. That’s more than fair.

I don’t waste coin like most – drinkin’ just makes me a target for men, gamblin’ for proper money’s a fool’s game, I ain’t interested in whorin’ an’ I ain’t got no one to send anythin’ off to. So I been stashin’ it, an’ a few of the others been doin’ the same. Together, with that merchant’s jewels, we got enough together to get our own thing goin’, deliverin’ cargo. Less coin, but less risk an’ more reliable. Fuck knows I been livin’ dangerous enough, an’ I’m sick of followin’ someone else’s say-so.

Coleán’s not got anythin’ goin’ for ‘im ‘ere since ‘e lost ‘is right ‘and; most experienced fighter on the crew, an’ then ‘e was just another body. But ‘e knows ‘ow to talk to folk, an’ ‘e’s ‘appier to be Quartermaster of a cog than crewmate of an ‘olk. I think Sven would rather be under a captain what will leave ‘im alone when ‘e’s workin’. Geoffroi will be with me no matter what. Elias is sick of bein’ kicked about, an’ ‘e liked the sound of ‘avin’ a bit of a calmer life, not raidin’ all the time. Hann an’ Coleán are close friends, though fuck knows what they talk about. Still, ‘e seemed ‘appy to come along, an’ an extra pair of ‘ands won’t hurt.

Just a shame the German didn't stick around. He said he 'ad his own shit to deal with back 'ome first. I said he could find me down the line if he fancied it once he was done, an' he said he might. I 'ope he does, that bastard's worth five good men, and they're rare enough anyways.”

1192: The Thorn
“We found a ship, a little cog. Sven reckoned it was the best bet; all the bigger ones we could buy would be more trouble than they're worth, an' we'd need to bring in strangers on top to crew it proper. I like it anyway, it'll be nippy in the water 'cause it's got a curved hull, what you don't often see for a cog. It'll make it a bastard for unloadin' 'eavy shit ashore, but I figure we can keep to 'arbours or else just carry light shit.

It'll take a season or two to make all the repairs an' changes I want – careenin' alone is gonna take a while, an' I want a forecastle an' crow's nest made. Coleán's earnin' 'is keep too, 'e's gettin' good prices for us, an' 'e reckons 'e's got one or two contacts already. He's only been ashore a month, I don't know 'ow 'e does it.”

Spring - Summer 1193: Fuckin' Witches
“Elias 'ad one of 'is feelin's about a motherfucker of a storm brewin' out in the Irish Sea, right as we was loadin' up that cargo, 'eadin' right for us. I gave the order to toss what we'd loaded overboard to shed weight and left the rest on the dock. I weren't takin' no risks, an' I don't much give a shit what the rich fucker who'd 'ired us 'ad to say about it.

We set sail quick as we could, an' 'eaded south 'cause that's where the wind was. I don't think Coleán was too 'appy about us losin' that job, but 'e didn't question me none, specially when 'e saw the size of the clouds 'eaded for Gloucester. We furled sails an' bobbed about 'til the storm passed on, an' then sailed back. Every other ship was fucked, an' weren't gonna be sailin' no time soon.

We was loadin' back up on what provisions we'd tossed when I seen Elias 'angin' on the jetty with a couple of folk. I went on over to see what was up, an' the woman said she was lookin' to buy transport to Ireland to visit family, but when I pressed said she was lookin' to buy some 'ounds for 'er lord in Nottingham. I told 'er ten pounds of silver, an' she got all wide-eyed at me, sayin' she only 'ad two. What kinda idiot brings one 'alfwit who don't even 'ave a sword or axe as protection on a long trip, an' brings that little money when lookin' to buy out 'er own ship both ways an' then buy posh dogs for a lord? I thought. The stuck-up bitch even asked for a cabin! A fuckin' cabin, on a ship this size what's made for takin' cargo places. I told 'er she could pay two now and two after. Four for a few day's work ain't bad after all.

Either she really don't know 'er arse from 'er elbow, in which case that “Giscard” in Nottingham's even more stupid for sendin' 'er in the first place, or there was somethin' dodgy about the whole thing. I told Coleán to try wormin' some more answers out of 'em, but we're used to dealin' with dodgy folk so I weren't too fussed, so long as it didn't affect us.

They 'ad a fancy bird with 'em, and I told 'em to stick it in a cage for the trip. They tried to argue about it bein' well trained and that, but I weren't 'avin' some random animal loose on my ship. Coleán talked 'em round by promisin' they could let it out for some exercise. Don't make sense to me, seein' as it weren't even a full day of sailin', but it calmed 'em down some. He's good at doin' stuff like that.

Soon as we got out to sea proper, another fuck-off storm showed up on our bow outta nowhere – it weren't even 'alfway to an hour between clear skies and the black clouds 'eadin' right for us. It was too big and too quick to dodge, an' it would catch us 'fore we got back to a port, so we 'ad to just duck our 'eads and 'ope we came out in one piece.

I yelled at the passengers if there was somethin' they weren't tellin' me, like if they was cursed or witches or anythin' – that shit don't just 'appen for no reason – but they said they were just normal folk. Like fuck. Still, I 'ad plenty of other things to worry about. I sent Sven below deck to make repairs and check Geoffroi weren't pissin' 'imself, an' Hann and Elias to furl the sails so we don't lose the mast. Everyone tied themselves down, and I tried to keep the ship goin' straight into it. Coleán 'ad to 'elp me keep the tiller true, but then it bucked and we couldn't get the leverage to move it back against the current. Then the ship broached bad, and the next wave 'it us abeam.

I woke up on a beach, an' figured I'd been out a day. I made sure the crew weren't dead or nothin', an' got my 'at, an' saw the ship was on its side, with three paces of clear land between its stern and the waterline. Cargo was everywhere, most of it sodden and spilled out.

Elias told me 'e didn't get no sense of direction or nothin', an' 'e saw the bird burst outta the cage like it was nothin'. I told 'im 'e must've 'it 'is 'ead, but told 'im to keep both eyes on the passengers just in case. The more time we spent with 'em, the more off they seemed. Elias and them went off inland a ways to get food and see if they could figure whereabouts we was, while the rest of us started makin' repairs to the Thorn. Luckily she weren't too banged up, an' I figured once Elias was back to give an 'and, we could take down the clewlines, pull 'er upright, tie 'em to the bowsprit, an' pull 'er round.

When I was climbin' along the mast, me and Coleán saw the 'orizon was strange – all starry-like and wrong. Essel came back an' said we was on an island. I thought the bitch was fuckin' with me – everyone knows there ain't no islands in Saint George's channel, and we can't've been out long enough to put us far enough north or south to 'it any.

I'd 'ad enough of their bullshit, an' told 'em to come out with the truth there an' then or we was gonna 'ave issues. Essel said she was a fuckin' witch, an' even the fuckin' bird spoke up and said the same. I told the bird I weren't speakin' to 'er when she was like that, and she spouted off some bullshit about bein' more bird than person. I weren't takin' that shit, so Coleán gave 'er 'is jacket and she turned into a woman.

Essel tried feedin' me some bullshit about bein' a "mage", as if that were any fuckin' different. Everyone knows witches are bad luck at sea, an' I gave 'em plenty of fuckin' chances to tell me, an' the fuckin' bitch tried tellin' me that they weren't bad luck. We'd barely gotten into the sea when a massive fuckin' storm shows up outta fuckin' nowhere, ruins our cargo, knocks us out, an' throws us onto an island that don't exist in some fuckin' stupid corner of purgatory. If that ain't witches bringin' bad luck, I'm fuckin' King Richard.

She talked about 'ow we was in some weird magic place, and said 'ow we needed each other. 'ow we need 'em to get outta this shitshow, and they need us to get 'em back to land once they do. I ain't sure I'm buyin' that given all the other shit they've tried to sell me, but Coleán reckons there's no 'arm in seein' ourselves away from this fuckin' place before we do anythin'. If they can get us out, then they weren't lyin'. If they can't, then we do things my way. I'll be keepin' my eyes open and my knives close to 'and in case they try anythin' before then.

I left Sven to finish up gettin' the ship ready, an' Elias to keep an eye out, an' Geoffroi to do all 'is countin' of supplies. The rest of us went inland, where the bird – Arianwen – said was some buildin's. Turns out there was 'undreds of 'em, and even more big fuckers who was actin' weird, walkin' through walls like ghosts. Essel acted all sure they was 'armless, so I told 'er to go first. They didn't pay much attention 'til she walked into one and it started screechin' some noise what I don't ever wanna 'ear again, my ears was bleedin' and ringin' for ages after.

It just pointed further in, an' Essel reckoned we should go there, but there weren't no way we was gonna 'ave that racket again, so we went into the sewers, what was better made than most noble's 'ouses. We got to the middle buildin', an' it didn't take no genius to figure the big fuckers 'ad some connection to Atlantis – fuck knows what they're doin' in the Irish Sea. Then we came to a massive room with a paintin' or somethin' on the ceilin'. I ain't never seen the like – puts all the shit in churches to shame, that's for sure.

One of the big fuckers spoke up, an' 'e was actually speakin' English. Still got no idea what the fuck 'e was actually on about, though. The fucker was simple, an' kept talking nonsense like “up is down” an' “doors didn't exist yet" an' "we are underwater". Then the bastard kept callin' me an' Coleán diminished, an' actin' like I was somethin' to pity. I told 'im to stop that shit – I don't care 'e was eight feet tall an' our only way outta that shit, I weren't takin' that. Stupid cunt just looked all confused, but 'e stopped once Coleán explained to 'im like 'e was a kid.

Then the mad fucker told us we 'ad to capsize the fuckin' ship to get out. Sounded like one stupid fuckin' way of losin' the ship an' dyin', but the mages said they thought it would work. Course, I weren't just gonna trust that with the shit they'd said before, but they were gonna be on the ship too, an' if there's one thing I trust 'em to do, it's look after their own fuckin' skin.

Coleán said it was the stupidest thing we've ever done, an' I weren't gonna argue. We tied ourselves down aboard, an' the mad fucker made the sun set with a snap of 'is fingers. Coleán said that's a proper mage, an' I weren't gonna argue with that neither. The whole ship tipped into the sea, an' I made the stupid fuckin' mistake of breathin' in as it came in – my lungs were burnin' with the want to cough it up, but underwater that was a sure way to drown, so I 'ad to keep it in until the ship somehow turned back aright.

Open water was all around, as it should be, an' Elias 'ad 'is sense back. Sven called from below decks that The Thorn was in a sorry state, an' 'e didn't know if she'd make it to Ireland. I 'ad Elias and Hann unfurl the sails an' get us goin', with Sven patching what 'e could an' the fuckin' witches an' their pet mute get bailin'. Gotta admit, Essel actually showed some use, usin' magic to throw waves of water outta the ship, more than five people combined.

The crew gave it their all to keep the ship aloat an' followin' my orders, 'cause they knew it would be tight. Still took every trick I 'ad to get us to port without losin' the ship, an' with 'ardly a few minutes to spare, we got 'er in an' 'anded over to the pilots and up onto a dry dock. Dockmaster started heapin' praise on the ship an' me for my captainin' – even if praise ain't exactly common for a woman in my line of work, I weren't in the fuckin' mood and left Coleán to do the talkin'.

Apparently we'd been gone for a whole fuckin' month! So that was even more this fuckin' job cost me takin' the witches aboard. If they was normal folk, we would've sailed no problem. Then the guy went and said repairs would take another two months, an' run us thirty fuckin' pounds. I was about ready to take the witches somewhere quiet and slit their fuckin' throats, but Essel said she'd borrow some money an' pay it 'erself. I said to make it fifty, on account of all the fuckin' shit she'd caused.

She 'ad the fuckin' nerve to argue – said I was goin' back on my word to 'er. As if she weren't lyin' through 'er teeth the whole fuckin' time, as if she weren't a witch bringin' us the worst luck, an' as if a simple three-day trip each way ain't no different from an 'old-full of lost cargo, two fuckin' capsizings, an' three fuckin' months of lost time.

Even if every other fuckin' ship in Gloucester were seaworthy, the cunt could've gone to every fuckin' one of 'em an' the best price she'd likely get – bein' honest about bein' a mage – would be ten pounds for a season, an' twelve bein' nearer to normal. Given the fact that there weren't no fuckin' other ships, an' we could've sat at port a few more days an' gotten some desperate merchant or noble payin' well over the odds to get movin', I reckon closer to fifteen. The extra five ain't much of a price to ask for all the lies an' bullshit we'd got on their account.

Fuck Coleán talkin' about keepin' our 'eads down, fuck bein' in a city, and fuck 'er bein' a mage, one more fuckin' stupid argument from 'er and I weren't gonna answer with sharp words, but sharp steel. She must've seen it too, 'cause she agreed to fifty. Shifty bitch tried sayin' 'ow the folks she was borrowin' from weren't likely to go so high as fifty, but she'd try.

As if I were some idiot who'd take 'er word on that. Nothin' to stop 'er goin' over to 'em, askin' for thirty, an' then comin' back to me with 'ands up, sayin' that was all she could get. I went with, an' talked to some arsehole with an even bigger stick up 'is arse than 'er. They started talkin' fancy, but I made damn fuckin' sure they moved to English so's we could all know what was bein' spoke.

He signed off on the fifty like it were nothin', an' I ain't gonna act like it weren't gratifyin' to see 'im bend 'er over the table with the agreement. She also paid for someone to take 'er to somewhere more witches live, so that's one more prick to deal with.”