Tales o' Jenny Sable

[Misty]

Gods above and below, how’d I get here? A port so small they named it Smallport. Clever, eh? I’s not so bad, jus’ out o’ tha way. Way out o’ tha’ way. And a bit on tha cold side o’ life.

Ah right, now I ‘member. Darrin. Beautiful Darrin, with deep, dark eyes and long black lashes. A face finer ‘n tha gods, and smile to match. I love tha’ man. May Beshaba bless him with rotting manbits, and the Bitch Queen take his flesh to feed tha sharks.

Seems a bit harsh, ya say? Well, lemme tell ya a tale.

See, I been livin’ on tha water all me life. I swam before I could walk, an’ then I walked straighter on a ship than on land. I’s just how life was. Now, this story started when I was twenty winters old, an’ finally proved meself able to captain a ship. I got lucky, the captain before me died a bit faster ‘n he planned, and I was at tha’ helm. Now, captaining ain’ hard, not really. I did alright.

That is, I did alright ‘til we pulled inta port. Devil of a man was there, this Darrin. Pretending to be all noble but jus’ a little naughty, you know the type. Or, ya should. Turns out there’s one in every port, but tha’s beside the point. He was special. Charming. Different. Ifin I didn’ know better, I’d say he spelled me. But I do know better. Can’ spell a person without it wearing off at some point. An we spent a lot of time together. A LOT.

Now, he kept wantin’ to sail with me, but I said nay. I’s bad business bringing a favorite on board, worse fer a captain. There can be a fallin’ out, or the other sailors get a bit jealous, or all sorts of other problems. Time came to sail, I promised I’d look for him when I returned.

Well, he didn’ like tha’ idea. But tha’s jus’ tha way the wave breaks, ya know? Well, I sailed away, had a good run for a year, acquirin’ and sellin’ various goods, and I returned to the port town with Darrin. No, I ain’ tellin’ ya where, ‘cause he ain’t there no more. Now, when I returned, he was still there, an’ seemed happy tha’ I got back. His other mistresses didn’ like it none, but them’s the breaks. I wasn’ stayin’ long anyhow.

Well, life was good while my ship was getting repaired and refitted. Darrin didn’ see his other ladies none while I was in town. Made a girl feel special, ya know? And again, he wanted ta sail with me. I thought it was to get out of his rotten betrothal, ‘cause tha’s what he tol’ me. Again, I had to say no. Wasn’t no good to bring him on my ship, he should sail off on another. We could even meet in another town, Saerloon, I said. He jus’ gave me a sad smile, and said we should enjoy our las’ night together without frettin’ over tha future.

Well, we did have a fine night, I ain’t tellin’ ya tha’ story, jus’ tha’ I fell asleep in his arms. Only, I didna wake there. No sir, my sorry arse was on a ship, but I was tha cargo! My wrists and ankles were tied up tight, an’ a hood fell over me eyes. Turns out that charmer dun charmed my crew and took over my ship. MY ship! An I know it was him, for he came down to take tha hood off me eyes an’ apologise. I meant to follow him, but hew knew this. Drugged me wine, and got a couple others to make me drink it. Tha bastard dumped my sorry arse in Selgaunt, on another ship. He left me some coin, but I couldna find hide nor hair of him after.

An’ now I’m here. Ain’t got no ship, an’ no way back. He’ll wish tha Bitch Queen fed him to tha fishes ifin I find him. I ain’ been much of a prayin’ sort of girl, but I be startin’ now. Every sunup and sundown. Ifin I be awake, tha’ is. Girl’s gotta have a goal, ya know?

[Vendrin]

huzzah stories!

[Brokenbone]

Good stuff, hope to read more yet!

[Misty]

To tha Ladies o’ Luck, bad ‘n’ good, and tha Bitch Queen’s fair mood....


I dun know the res’ o that song. I know a fair few songs, but tha’ one I can’ ‘member. Dun matter, i’s my new prayer ‘til I think of somethin’ better.

Any how, this little port ain’ so bad. Has a tavern wi’ plenty o’ ale an’ a gamblin’ den not far off. It be a bit thin on sea wenches, but that ain’t always a bad thing. I lean towards the gents for pleasure anyhow, but it be a sign of tha quality of governance if there be wenches easily had or no.

An’ there be strange people here! Like tha Thayan who ain’t bald! But he’s alrigh’. Promised me he don’ trade in slaves none, so I don’ hafta stab him. He gambles a bit, too. Then there’s tha lass who healed a man with a prayer about kisses ‘n’ lips! Called herself tha revelmistress, maybe she has all tha wenches in a particular place. I asked Miss Lips about workin’ for coin, I ain’ whorin’ for it, tho’. I ain’t mind stealin’, no decent sailor does, but I gotta play it smart, ya know? Who knows how long I’ll be here? Praying to Beshaba and tha Bitch Queen be dangerous bisiness. Anyhow, she said tha port is a catalyst for up n comin’ adventuars. Dun know exactly what she meant there, but then she wanted to gi’ me a loan! I’ll take tha’ loan when I get ‘nother ship.

A nice enough gent showed me about, and offered ta fight a bit. Seems normal, aye? Well, he stripped to his drawers an’ refused to use a blade on me! I stripped down, but I tol’ him I ain’t trying ta lose tha game and used me blades. It didn’ matter, he beat me good. Was a good little bit o’ practice, ‘cept for the other fellas yelling for me to hurry out of the fighting pit. I tol’ them I jsut got beat, they can wait a minit. Then my new friend insisted on buyin’ me a drink. I let him, o’ course.

Another fella I met is trainin’ ta be a Knight. Sounds like one o’ those super stuffy sorts, too. He tried tellin’ me he can’ drink ale ‘cause knights don’ drink! I told him he was wrong, I seen knights drink all tha time. I also seen knights be rather unknightly in my favorites sorts of ports, but he didna need to know tha’ yet. He was a sweet boy, an’ I got him ta drink a bit o’ ale anyway.

Ain’ no closer to findin’ Darrin, tho’. An’ I be gettin’ restless. Restless ain’ good, ya know? Restless brings trouble, an’ I jus’ got here. I need ta find some coin. An a ship. I really need a ship.

[Misty]

I hear laughin’ on tha ocean breeze. I say it be Tymora, ‘cause I want it to be. If it ain’, the one laughin’ will let me know soon ‘nough.

One o’ me new friends lost hisself. ‘Spose it be uncommon in this cold little port, but I seen it plenty times. Too much grog, or too much brawlin’, or too much o’ any other poison. T’was tha cute fella from Thay, tha one with the pretty hair. I jes’ figure I be seein’ him somewhere safe, when he says for everyone ta hear tha’ he has hisself seventy ~thousand~ coin in a magic bag! Ifin he wasn’ so lost lookin’, I’d guess he was baiting a cutpurse ‘cause he be wantin’ a fight. I tol’ him not to say tha’ sort o’ thing, then he asks me ifin I need anythin’.

I need a ship, crew and a map straight to tha’ devil Darrin so’s I can carve him into fishfood.

But I be nice, I said no, I ain’t need nothin’ but some water to clean me cuts. We get to drinkin a bit a’ tha inn, he relearns how he likes ta drink spirits. Ifin I keep with tha ale like I likes, and he matches me drink for drink, he’d be needin’ help gettin’ home. So’s I ask ifin he had one, and ya. A friend of his showed him, after he forgot hisself. So he shows me to this Fort place. It prolly has a proper name, but I dun know it yet. His home be in a hut in a cave. I couldna hear tha sea, so I didn’ like it much, but I be nice. Now I know where to drag him ifin he drinks too much. And next time he jus’ might.

Then he asks ifin I want drink, food, or jewelry! He was jus’ bein’ silly, I’m mostly sure o’ tha’. But it look like I be tha’ favorite, tha port wench ta be takin’ a man’s trinkets. I didna give me goods fer getting goods, ifin ya catch me meanin’. I ain’ a whore, and me friend be a right nice ‘n’ proper fella. Least, he is while he dun’ ‘member himself.

Still, it be good fortune I find him, and he find me, and I still be hearin’ Tymora’s laughin’.

[Misty]

Jenny had long since forgot the name of the inn, the numerous empty bottle made sure of it. Slumped in the corner with a half-empty bottle of rum in hand, she closed her eyes, willing the room to stop spinning. Longing for the sea dulled with her awareness, she spoke her mind for anyone patience enough to untangle her words~

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Thrice-damned lizardfolk.. Ruining a nice little port. There be a bathouse. I want tha’ bathhouse. It be perfect for a sore body, an’ I be so bloody sore. I dun saw Selina, she be returned long afore a halfmonth. Saved me backside, too. Lizards fight hard. Ye ever ate lizard? It be tasty, cook it up wit’ a bit o’ salt ‘n’ garlic, it be tha best answer ta tha problem.

I be sailing stormy waters, ye know? I got me a whirlpool on one side ‘n’ a viciously hungry shark on tha other ‘n’ a flock o’ rocs above. I sail atween ‘em, but I be alone. I dun hafta be, I know. Plenty be liking me scarred hide, but they dun unnerstand. I ain’t no port wench. I love tha wenches ‘n’ jakes, they be importan’ ta a sailor’s sanity, but they help nothing but scratchin’ an itch. I be wantin’ more.

Dreams ‘n’ schemes be no differnt, ye know? Only one be tryin’ ta get tha other. He talk like I dun have dark dreams, ‘n’ mebbe I don’ compared ta his. But I be seein’ how tha wind blows. It be pushin’ me away, an’ I best stop fightin’ it. I ain’t knowin’ tha why o’ it. Dun matter, I guess. It be what it be.

Aye, I kin talk proper, but I dun be likin it much. Ain’t who I be, ye know? I know how ta write decent, an’ tha’ all tha’ matters. Hafta know that, ta be writing a half-decent Log. Oh aye, I have me a captain’s log. I need me a crew, ‘n’ I be fit ta go home. Me home, ye ask? Me home be tha salty water out there. Those waters be makin sense ta me.... the waters I swim now be scareh.

Sharks be ‘mazin’ creatures, ye know? They be sleek, but they skin be rough. Like sandpaper, but it dun tear. They skin makes me favorite sort of armor. They know when somethin’ bleeds from far off, ‘n’ find it fast. Always hungry, always ready ta devour tha wounded, even if it be ‘nother shark. Tha only time they look ta be playin’ is when a pair be circling tha same prey. They circle round and round, twitchin’ ta tease tha other inta strikin’ first.

Aye, I be knowin’ my kind.

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The bottle in her hand spills over the floor as she loses consciousness, snoring in the corner of the dirty little inn.

[PensivesWetness]

i'm intreg..... int....

Please? More please?

[Misty]

~Status: unknown.

I be needing to talk to my patron, but she be scarce.
I met a few who be willing to sail with me, giving part of the crew.~



Jenny looked to her third entry, scowling. Perhaps she should keep a separate book for herself, a diary. She threw the small inkwell across the sleeping quarters instead. Diaries are for the stupid who wish their secrets found. But by Umberlee’s soggy backside, was she in a temper. The rage storm building within needed a vent.

Jenny set her bag and weapons under the bunk she took as her own, burying her log deep in the pile. She ripped her pants up the side, exposing her shapely, scarred thigh. Her sleeves came off easily. Tying her blouse at the bottom, she strutted above deck, looking like any port wench with hungry eyes and a predatory grin.

A young sailor at the bow whistled his desire. Fairfaced and handsome, he dropped the mop to stand straight, combing fingers through his hair. The others looked away, finding the rope, the deck, the sails more interesting. Today the boy would grow up. Jenny swaggered across the deck, wearing a coy little smirk.

“Oy lass, ye be a sight fer sore eyes,” he called to Jenny.

“Izzat so?” she smiled her sweetest smile, moving closer to pretty young man.

“Aye,” out of words, he licked his lips.

Jenny stopped in front of the lad, hands on her hips. He grunted, shifting himself. “Ye want some o’ this?” she batted her long black lashes, turning her cheek towards him. He leaned in for the first kiss.

The others did not slow in their work when the young man howled. One grizzled old sailor looked up, nodding once. The lad’s face bled from a long slice across his cheekbone, Jenny’s fist connecting with the other side. Her knee found its target next. She snarled, kicking him once. Turning to face the rest of the deck, she called out, “Anyone else?!”

The old sailor hobbled above deck with bandages in one hand, rum in the other. “Nay lass. Best git goin’ afore some otha fool rise to tha challenge. Ye can’t fight em all.”

Jenny snarled, walking swiftly to the older gent. He did not flinch, only offer a crooked smirk with the bottle. She snatched it out of his hands, stalking below deck. The old sailor continued towards the young man, producing another bottle and opening it for the boy. The lad took the bottle, drinking deeply. “Son, ye ‘ave ta learn tha difference atween a true wench an’ one lookin’ fer a fight.” The younger man drank the rest of the bottle.

[wvincenti]

*laughs*

Hooray!

-Bill

[Misty]

Jenny woke to a deep, low rhythmic thrumming, not unlike something hitting the hull of the ship. She tried to spit out the pillow that lodged itself in her mouth, but only managed to work her sandpaper tongue over dry lips. The previous days slowly floated to her awareness between the throbbing pulses in her head.

“What tha hells was I thinkin’?” she tried to say, but all anyone could hear was a groan. Eventually she forced her sore body to sit up, swaying with the ship. Her bleary eyes searched the feebly lit room, though she was not yet sure why. Bunks stacked only two high with little room left for anything of a personal nature, her eyes settled on something glinting nearby. Someone put a jar of water by her bunk. Unable to speak, she thought a prayer of thanks, reaching still weary arms out to it. Grasping with both hands, she drank. It was a little stale, and not very cold, but it could have been the sweetest spring water for all she noticed. With the throbbing dulled a little, she lay down again.

Night outside when she woke again, feeling a little less like death warmed over. That thought brought a raspy chuckle while making her slightly less sore body sit up. Someone refilled the jar of water, she drank again. She set the jar down, rubbing feeling back into her face.

She needed to talk to the blond girl, the sweet, shiny one. When she woke from her nap on the temple floor, she was gone. The other corpse was gone. All who remained were the old Father and the usual attendants of the church. He patiently answered her questions as best he could, encouraging her to get off the temple floor and get cleaned up. She did so, shuffling her considerable stench to the port, hoping her companion received aid. She stripped down, lowering herself into the water, hissing as the salt hit her still-open wounds. They had to be cleaned, lest she take disease. The Water of Life and the Water of Death.

Jenny combed fingers through her dark, tangled hair. What was she thinking, drinking hard spirits in her condition? The corner of her dry lips turned up into a smirk. He looked just as bad, and it was fun at the time. Without jarring her head too much, she checked her pocket. Her smirk grew into a full grin. Was it safe to call him her show pony? They laughed quite a bit through the night, but the drink did not wipe his dangerous eyes from her memory. Would he laugh again, or become annoyed? A dry, raspy chuckle escaped her throat. She would find out. After she felt better.

She tugged on her boots, thoughts drifting to the Ice Queen. Her friend warned against asking too many questions, but it was impossible to not be curious. Maybe that was her plan. Dead cats or no, Jenny would find her answers.

Having moved so much without causing more pain, she dared to look at her bags. Fine blue silk spilled out the top, bringing a long sigh. She rubbed her face again, willing the sight gone. But the dress remained when she opened her eyes again. It was a very fine dress, the color of the sea on a bright, cold day. What was he thinking, giving that to her when she was deep in her cups? She was not a fine-born lady, and disliked pretending to be one. Even if she did clean up and pour herself into it, what could hide her scars? All those darker stripes on her already dark skin, they were not going away anytime soon. Though the largest and worst covered her legs, back and torso, smaller ones have crept along her arms, chest, neck and even her face. He meant well, she was certain, but maybe it was time to explain why her bed remained empty. Maybe he will understand. Thirty coppers said he would.

Days later, it seemed, she finally walked abovedeck. The stinging north wind felt good, forcing her slumbering senses awake. It was good to be alive. She savored the cold as much as her skin would tolerate, then walked to town for breakfast, a hint of her usual swagger returning to her step. Time to find the Golden Lass.