Fun with Gussett

Fun? FUN? My crusty old arse is it fun.

Freebootin’ ain’t what it used to be. Long gone’re they days when fair reward for a half hours dishonest graft was a stack of gold big enough to woo the largest-breasted doxy in town for a nights pleasure and still ‘ave change for an enormous pile of sweeties to sit ‘er upon. The seas ‘ave become right dangerous; every nobleman in all the lands rekons hisself fittin’ out a navy and even the slimest of marks are weighin’ ‘eavy with shot, men and cannon. The tides of change are a-risin’, me hearties, so indulge me a while, lest we let the booty of tomorrow slip from our fingers for want of the treasure maps of yesteryear.

My story begins with The Eris Guild - a group of ten priests, all followers of Eris (bitch). The strongest & wisest of them was named Swan. He grew in power, & gathered a mighty an army of followers about him - warriors, craftsmen, historians, scouts, discordians, scribes, popes, minstrels, thieves & alchemists - & set out across the borders.

Swan knew the power of alliance in war, & at first sold the swords of the Eris Guild to General Corvus - a fearsome & terrible commander who was determined to overthrow the lands of Norham & claim them for his own, & for his ragtag horde of mercenaries, goblins, trolls & ne’er-do-wells.

For many a year war raged across the Norham lands. Battles were won & lost. Many dear comrades in arms fell in the fields of war, & many heroes were born. The sight of Swan, fully clad in scales of steel, glimmering like a fish, leading his mail-clad shield wall beneath the proud banner of the eye of Eris became feared across the lands. Many tales are still told of his deeds, & those of his men - Rudgrimm, Natty Jack, Sergeant-At-Arms Aaaaaaaarmitage, Human Warrior, Notcrap Gordon, Crap Scout, Pilfer & Sir Zog among them.

Swan rose to become a Duke, with dominion over many lands, & decreed the formation of a Navy to defend his ports & his lands. Port Hector, a small, easily defensible river port was granted to the Captain of the Eris Guild Navy, to govern as his own.

The first Captain of this Navy, & of it’s only ship, The Discordia, was J.J. Qin, a boisterous & stoic filibuster, as keen with a belch & a laugh as he was with a sword & shield. Precious Treasure Shanx was appointed Admiral, a purely political title bearing no more responsibility than to be sure to consume more intoxicants than any other man alive, & Simply Bosh McJinkingabout, a man who’s loyalty was matched only by his insanity, First Mate. A marine corps was also formed, under the leadership of a foul & loathsome Urkan, Render Ironklaw. I found that my good sense of smell (inherited, no doubt, from my Urkan father) stood me in good stead as Navigator, & made my home in The Discordia’s tallest crow’s nest.

Peace settled in Norham like a iron fist

Under the rule of Duke Swan, peace settled in Norham like a iron fist. The officers of The Discordia soon realised that with the backing of Duke Swan, & a fair wind, fortunes could be made upon the high seas, for a brave enough crew - toughened through years of war, & idle through months of peace - preying on the rich & the weak. So it was that the Freaks of Eris did set sail from the lands of Norham, under the proud banner of the blue rune, carrying the marque of the Duke, to seek their fortunes as Freebooters.

It was in the land of Dumnonii that the first Freebooters Alliance was formed. Through deceit & treachery the Freaks were lead to the brink of battle with Captain Vansen & his crew aboard The Nightingale. Only the quick & diplomatic intervention of Captain Dennon & his Buccaneers of The Black Pig, & the sheer size of Vansen’s First Mate, Pixie, prevented disaster. After much debating & muttering, both above & below decks, the three Captains agreed upon the Alliance - to support one another in times of need, to unite under the figurehead of the Admiral, to fly the common flag of the F.B.A., to trust each other, & each other’s crews, at least as far as they could throw them.

The Alliance grew from strength to strength. New Captains & ships joined up, or rose from the swelling ranks of existing F.B.A. ships. Render Ironklaw rose to Captaincy under the title ‘Prettyboy’ Lambkin. Brennan, a large-bottomed Scotsman rose from the ranks of The Discordia to become one of the most famous Captains of the F.B.A.. Captain Ulf from the Northlands joined, as did Captains Blood & Captain Thorn. It was an era of high adventure. Gold & jewels were plentiful among the crews, the seas were full of rich pickings & easy targets, there was easy money to be made for a lightfingered young guttersnipe with no reservations about stealing from his shipmates.

Cornovii was a source of great income for both myself, & the F.B.A.. A short sailing from Lundy, a small realm of unsophisticated sheep-farmers, elves & tree-folk. Easy pickings for us, so trusting & gullible the folk there, to the point where I was able to establish myself as leader of a Thieves Guild, which, to this day, provides some small profit, for very little work.

Untold opportunities were opened to us, rich & untainted hunting grounds

My greatest haul, which was to yield riches I had until now only dreamed of, & provide me with the capital to fund many a plot & a plan, took place in the far North, with the plundering of a Dragon’s horde. Many weird & wonderful creatures did we see & slay in the years aboard The Discordia, kings & queens rose & fell at our behest, empires crumbled & our coffers swelled. The Island of Lundy, the now infamous stronghold of the F.B.A., was granted to us by the King of Dumnonii, for services rendered. The F.B.A. seemed invincible.
One fateful & stormy voyage of The Fenris Ulf to the Indies lead to the discovery of a magical portal, a rift between worlds. The Which Compass, a fiendishly complicated arcane device, capable of detecting these rifts, devised in part by Cadfannon, the F.B.A.’s most learned mage, a lank and somewhat greasy elf, though mighty enough in mystic powers to baffle me on many an occasion, & The Map that was charted from it, enabled us to find, & sail through, the many portals which linked the worlds & dimensions of the multiverse. Untold opportunities were opened to us, rich & untainted hunting grounds were at our mercy, limitless frontiers lay before us.

One world that we discovered, beyond all others, most suited our needs - a single island in a never-ending ocean, seemingly a focus for whatever disturbance in the fabric of reality that created & maintained the portals - so plentiful & diverse they are in the seas around the Fundamental Isle of Santa Hobbes. Here Port Jerome was founded, a safe haven & base of operations, in easy striking distance of many worlds, & many freebooters made their homes here, the climate being rather more agreeable than that of Lundy.

The day of the death of Captain Qin was dark & terrible. Exploring uncharted seas, we were ambushed & beset on all sides by seeming endless ranks of lackeys of Captain Delgado, a pirate of the worst sort. Powder & stout hands were in shortage, but, by the Goddess, those hands that were there fought like Aneris herself, until the last shot were gone (so we thought...) & the last boarding pike oft-broken. The Lieutenant saved mine & many skins that day.

Knee deep I stood in the bodies of pirates & fallen shipmates

Knee deep I stood in the bodies of pirates & fallen shipmates, Bosun Badja at my side looking for all the world like the young & terrified press-ganger she’d been when first I crossed paths with her at the mouth of a dragon’s cave. I swear she spotted the wolf of fear in my eyes too, as she crouched on the deck, blood streaming from a wound to her leg, the cries of Ship’s Mum all around us & the grappling hooks of the pirates landing on The Discordia’s deck.

I was sure that we were history, when The Lieutenant burst through the below-deck hatch, a fused & burning keg of power in his arms. Before the dust & splinters of Delgado’s ship had settled I realised that Qin was among the dead. Eris herself appeared aboard The Discordia then - but no bargaining or arguing would change our Captains fate.

The bards sang a sad song that day, curse me for a sea serpent if it ain’t the truth.

I departed The Discordia, & the F.B.A. when next we landed on friendly shores, taking my hoard a my grief for the only man who had ever shown me any respect, trust or friendship far from the ship & across many lands. I did not return to Lundy until after I heard that Qin’s cadaver was burned at sea, & The Discordia with him. What crew remained sailed together aboard The Sal Ma Gundi, Captained first by Ship’s Mum Sorif (a mad old crone, perhaps more suited to witchcraft than captaincy, & surely closer to the Goddess than is altogether healthy), & then by Bucrum Pummelhorn III (a greedy & ambitious part-goblin of dubious origins) or shipped aboard The Fenris Ulf, or The Jezebel.

I returned to Lundy aboard The Fenris Ulf, whom I had had the fortune to meet in port on her arduous voyage back from the Indies to find that Vansen had seized upon the death of Qin like a cunning & ruthless predator. While the other F.B.A. Captains were at sea, he had plundered the isle for every last doubloon stashed there in trust by officers & crewmen of the F.B.A. & fled for an unknown hideout. I feel that one day the tides of the F.B.A. & Vansen will cross again, though I have seen & heard nought of him.

Over a leisurely and high-betting game of Mia one day, I learned that Lambkin, my erstwhile Captain & shipmate, was also my father. He told me of my mother, a high elf with whom he had fallen in love whilst under the geas of a magic potion, & whom he had slain & eaten on the day of my birth, so shocked & disgusted was he at discovering his own fatherhood. Urkan society breeds quick-witted & independent survivors, & enough paternal instinct was in my veins, for me to flee the bloodbath of my mother’s murder, & make my own way in the gutters & sewers of whatever forgotten port I had had the misfortune to have be born to.

For uncounted years I had fended for myself, filching & pilfering what morsels I could at the fringes of society, learning that one must be selfish to survive, & that one must always place one’s own interests first. Qin had been the first to show me the benefits of kinship & friendship, & since his passing I sore longed to feel accepted for who I am, rather than rejected as a gutter-dwelling half-breed, as I had once again grown accustomed. Thus, it was with some pride, & also no small feeling of regret for my lost mother, that I accepted my father’s name as my own. I became Ironklaw, heir to my fathers fast dwindling wealth & riches.
Perhaps optimism was born of the F.B.A.’s new base on the at Port Jerome & the Holy Water that Bosh set about distilling there, perhaps practicality forced it so after the death of Qin & the disappearance of Vansen, or perhaps monies & bribes were exchanged between influential hands. Whatever the opinions, the truth remains that the F.B.A., for the first time ever in their long history, united to sail together on one ship, & one ship alone - The Universe.

Captain Brennan made a fine figurehead, so splendid had his warderobe become through many years of prudent investment & cautious tacking through of the tides of fashion. Rare wisdom on his part caused him to appoint Lambkin his Quartermaster, a more able man to keep order among such a rabble of privateers, murderers & cut-throats I cannot name.

Unity suited the F.B.A. well, for a time, & many successful voyages were made by the masters of The Universe, sallying forth from Port Jerome to many worlds in search of wealth, lands & titles. The crew of The Universe swelled, as did the F.B.A. coffers, so much so that in time the company parted and two new ships were floated under the banner of the F.B.A.. The Cutter’s Choice was Captain Bosh’s pride & glory, & with First Mate Flik O’Thrist (as feisty a wench as you could ever care to meet; fair faced as a mermaid, stout hearted as a whale & strong willed as the bitch Goddess herself) always at his side, he led his crew to great adventure & riches with the subgenius of a true Discordian. Captain Brennan also commissioned a new ship, funded in part, so it seemed, by Poncenby DeLille (an rich envoy & playboy on the high seas), The Ruination.

His band of stout & stoic seamen & ex-naval crew were as ruthless & well-dressed as they were efficient & fearless, & Brennan’s reputation as a wily & successful sea-dog grew from strength to strength.

On the flip of a gold doubloon, I chose to sail aboard The Ruination, although, in truth, I found the ship a little too regimented and military for my liking, and more oft than not, I would stay in port, or jump aboard the altogether more relaxed Cutter’s Choice.

...some clue as to the whereabouts of his buried treasure...

Tragedy befell the F.B.A. once again with the death of Captain Bosh. We were ambushed ashore by bandits, while seeking aid for Pum, who had fallen prey to a fiendish curse of the living dead in a desolate village nearby. Bosh fought, as always, with skill & determination, but, outnumbered & caught unawares, he soon fell to a killing blow from the bandit Chieftan. We avenged Bosh’s noble death in fury & without mercy, though I still feel to this day that his death should not have been so, & that the spirit of Bosh still has some unfinished business in mortal realms (perhaps if the mad fool had left me some clue as to the whereabouts of his buried treasure I would not feel that this was so, curse his purblind eyes).

Flik, First Mate & Bosh’s right hand woman, seemed most fit to take Captaincy of The Cutter’s Choice’s, but Deadly Ernest (a rather foppish & dandy swordsman of no small reputation) coveted the title for his own, &, so determined & ruthless did he appear in his intention, that she soon jumped ship in fear for her life, & left The Cutter’s Choice to her fate at the hands of Ernest.

Lambkin grew tired and frustrated of Brennan’s command, & donned the burden of the Captain’s mantle once more, aboard The Jack ‘O’ Lantern, appointing Pum his First Mate, Flik, the ship’s Top Bird & it was on this ship that I sailed, rankless and without respectable position as always, overlooked as I skulked in the bilges, or in my crow’s nest, free to do as I pleased.

The Jack ‘O’ Lantern was a small, fast & exceptionally manouverable vessel, & her crew as battle-scarred & able-handed as ever there has been. Bosun Eldred daBone (known to some, with good reason, as “War Starter”) ran a tight ship, & with the likes of Walter Prouty Conkle, Yaroo, Will Swallow & Bad-Bob F’rapples (stone-cold killers, each man jack of ‘em) aboard, & the not-so-jolly Orange Roger hoisted, we became much feared across many oceans by merchants, navies & pirates alike. Also aboard were Bilge Rat, (a young, somewhat excitable lad, as light-footed & grimy as he was light-fingered & greedy) & Jeffrey Smalltrousers (ship’s cook, for our sins, terrible they must have been, to be sure).

The disappearance of The Ruination was the first time that we realised that the magic portals that we had been using for travelling between realms were not as stable as we had assumed. I only hope that with fair winds her crew can find their way, perhaps via another portal, perhaps by re-opening the one that closed so suddenly behind them, back to charted waters, though without map or Which-Compass to guide them I fear they may be lost to us forever. When last I saw Captain Brennan I sat unjustly accused of the murder of one of his crewmen, &, in spite of this, having sailed so many voyages with the red-bearded old fool, I long to sit at a watch-fire with him & have his rambling & oft-repeated tales lull me to sleep once more.

In Cornovii the prevailing winds were rather more favourable. Captain Ernest contrived, some say through alliance with the foul & powerful Skraith (perhaps this is nothing more than evidence that some people will say anything when they are pissed), some say through sheer bloody-minded ambition, to be crowned King of the realm. The new King did in no way forget his old shipmates, & the royal court swelled with Dukes & Earls, all perhaps a little saltier than the local population would’ve hoped for, myself among them bearing the title of Royal Chancellor, a position I had long realised was ideal for reaping easy profits through unfair taxation & fraudulent bookkeeping. Our draining of the coffers of the land began in earnest.

Matters took a strange turn aboard The Jack ‘O’ Lantern. Lambkin decided that he had had enough of Captaincy, and was to retire to a life of sullen luxury at Lundy. After much drunken debate amongst the crew, and much planning and plotting below decks, we decided to sail onwards with no Captain, and to form a Chaocracy, whereby each man jack of the crew has equal and unfair say on matters of the ship. In order that we should have a visible figurehead for visiting dignitaries to fawn and scrape to, and also that we should have some sort of order as to who in particular was having their say at any given time, we fashioned The Headgear of Authoritative Talking. The H.A.T. is now the only true leader of the dogs aboard the The Jack ‘O’ Lantern, and in the interests of discord, I truly hope it shall remain so.

And so things are now. Rumours abound among the F.B.A. of plans to bake a Golden Apple pie, portents and signs are said to herald the return of both Captain’s Brennan and Vansen, Lambkin is on the verge of appointing himself Admiral, and Pum seems eager to set the The Jack ‘O’ Lantern’s sails and cast off. A little too eager, perhaps.