Aether : Calraem

Interlude I: A Wandering Pirate's Conversation

A man walked into a bar-and no, there's no punchline to this story.

He didn't stand out amongst the other people in the street at all, being a mighty fine pirate himself, just like everybody else. Clad in the classical attire of a pirate, a red scarf around his neck, a scruffy beard, two pistols and a sword. Yep, the classic pirate-Oh, let's not forget the hat. The hat is important.

He was as pirate as they come, and as pirate as the rest of them.

In fact, if there was anything that stood out about him, it would most likely be the fact that he was human, a rare find on this island. But wasn't a big deal; Captain Cortez may refer to himself as half-demon, but he was half-human too.

"A pirate without a drink is like a blue seashell urchin fully exposed, it's against the natural order!" He cracked a joke, but the few that accidentally overheard him, grimaced over the fact that they did. His job description should have the word "comedian" be forcibly removed and discarded.

And so, continuing the story, a man walked into a bar, packed to the brim with pirates, and ordered himself a drink.

"What would you like to drink?" Asked the barkeeper.

"So long as their's alcohol in it, I'm fine with it," he responded.

"So...a beer then?"

"Then get to it then. I don't have all mornin'!"

Incidentally, it was the afternoon.

The barkeep placed a large glass jug in front of the pirate and filled it to the brim with a yellow-brown liquid, allowing a white layer of foam to appear on top. A standard beer for a standard pirate.

The smell of bitter fermented alcohol reached his nose along with a tinge of fruitiness, bringing a feeling a pleasure before his lips even touched the glass. His feelings toward the contents of the jug were transparent.

Then he downed the drink in seconds.

Even though it was his first.

"Ahh~" he sighed, slamming the jug on the wooden counter, smiling from ear to ear. "This is how the lava turtle must have felt after it's shell was torched. A burning reminder of home."

"..." The barkeep grimaced, pretended not to hear him by returning to cleaning his glasses with a dirty rag.

"Well, barkeep? What's stopping you? Keep 'em coming!" He slammed a few paper quintz onto the counter.

"You got it," The barkeep took the money and watched him turn to leave and sit in a far-off corner, quickly familiarising with other pirates and started drinking with their group.

Most of them had been drinking since the morning and most likely had the [Toxin Debuff] applicable right now. It was common knowledge amongst pirates that in order to fully experience the drinking debuff, one would need to purposely lower ones defence stats or remove the enchanted clothing one would wear.

If they didn't then it was possible that even if a pirate drank the whole day, and every day after, they wouldn't get drunk.

Pirates also had a word for people who drink with no intention of getting drunk:

Boring.

But that was not a word that described this pirate, who was already starting to feel the effects after only one drink. He was fully intent on having the whole experience when he stepped into this bar.

He drank, conversed, drank some more, then conversed even more. He must have been surrounded by at least fifteen other people, ones who told stories of the missions that they were on and survived by hair on their rumps.

They listened as each pirate began spinning their tale of what they had done in the background whilst the main force did their job. They explained their envy towards never having the chance to shine and how underappreciated they are for the boring jobs that they did on the ships. Most of them have been on some of the most dangerous missions with the main captain to only get a small portion of the cut and they don't even receive a bounty on there heads.

The pirate listened intently to his fellow men as they aired out all their feelings, almost like their group has turned to a form of therapy. Not that anyone really cared or would remember most of what they said.

"Why don't you all start your own crew then?" He asked. "You all have the experience. I'm sure it's not that difficult."

"Impossible," one answered. "We'd die in no time flat."

"That's true," another said. "Almost lost my life fighting a tiger bird."

"We can't."

They depressed themselves, pained by the fact that they were too weak to do anything on their own and could only complain. They downed their drinks in silence afterwards.

The man watched them all as they drank, then smiled.

"You're mistaken, men."

"How so?"

"To be a pirate means that you decide for yourself. If there are no opportunities, make them! If their are no ships, build one! And if you want to be true pirate, then become one. It's that simple."

"That easy?"

"These aren't easy, mate. They're simple. Now, enough philosophy, let's drink!"

"Yeah!!!" They all cheered.

Three hours passed, and they were sprawled all over and around the table, passed out with the notification [Toxic Debuff Active] present on all their notification board. They were all snoozing, including the pirate who inspired them all.

Impossible was a farce. Pirates exist to prove that one can do whatever they wanted at still be happy. It was better to follow through with what one wanted than to die with regrets.

That's what he, Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, truly believed.