01-07-2014, 01:23 PM
Spoiler:
@cartoonkarl @Brutalskars @Harmonic @Cerb57 @Drakethehyooman @Morhana Feel free to post your own stuff with your Privateers in this thread!
The smell of the salt on the breeze was strong as the wind blew hard in the tattered red and black sails, the timbers groaning as the ship smashed and cut her way through the waves. The Endeavor may not have been the prettiest ship, but with twelve cannons on each side, six chase cannons, and enough barrels of explosives to destroy a small city, she didn't need to be pretty. Her hull was splintered as it had just come from a confrontation with a small schooner off the coast of Stranglethorn. Only three of the surviving twelve crew chose to join the Endeavor's crew, the rest had their throats slit and made their way down to Davy Jones' Locker.
Roberto Alcantra, the most esteemed Captain of this grand ol' ship, plotted a course for fine whaling waters in the South Seas (this time of year, whales would be migrating in force). The crewmen were busy locking down the fresh cargo, or swabbing the decks to smooth out the splinters. One fellow, with few, but yellowed, teeth, rose his voice as he reloaded a cannon, his mates joining in in the chorus;
Spoiler:
The worst old ship that ever did sail,
Sailed out of Storm'ind on a windy day.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
She was built in Arath'r time,
Held together with bits of twine
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
Nothing in the galley—nothing in the hold,
But the skipper's turned in with a bag of gold.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
Off th'Gold Coast she sprang a leak,
Hear her poor old timbers creak.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
We pumped our way round the Vile Reef,
When the wind backed round to the west-sou'-west.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
Into the Humber and up the town,
Pump you blighters—pump or drown.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
Sailed out of Storm'ind on a windy day.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
She was built in Arath'r time,
Held together with bits of twine
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
Nothing in the galley—nothing in the hold,
But the skipper's turned in with a bag of gold.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
Off th'Gold Coast she sprang a leak,
Hear her poor old timbers creak.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
We pumped our way round the Vile Reef,
When the wind backed round to the west-sou'-west.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
Into the Humber and up the town,
Pump you blighters—pump or drown.
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay!
The wreckage of the poor schooner sank downwards, her flag, of some noble House from the North, was the last to make its stand before being devoured by the Briney deep. The Endeavor grew ever so fatter as the crew stowed down a cargo of textiles, alcohols, spices, and metals. The few purses of gold found aboard were handed out to the crew, and two pieces thrown overboard to the two mates that were lost in the heated exchange.
'Privateering is great', Roberto thought to himself. 'You get paid to not attack Alliance ships, you get paid to attack Horde ships. Neutrals are free game... and ya get to keep the spoils.' He smiled to himself, his stained teeth glaring in the baking sun as he grabbed the wheel and directed the ship himself. Full masts, anchors weighed up; it's a good life.