So here we are, all decked out in our matching pirate getups, sashaying into the Tavern like we're the hottest new crew in town. And get this—the place is practically a carboncopy of the Playful Pint back home, just with a few more eye patches and peg legs thrown in for that authentic pirate ambiance.
I spot Gideon lurking at a table in the back, and we start strutting over, ready to scheme up our next move and maybe toss back a few pints of grog—rum—whatever swill these pirates are knocking back.
If there's one thing this insane rollercoaster of an adventure has drilled into my head, it's that sometimes you've just gotta say, "screw it," embrace the chaos, and enjoy the wild ride. Even if said ride involves cursed magic, hostage situations, and more swashbuckling than a pirate impersonator contest at a rum-soaked pirate festival.
"Well, matey's," Gideon drawls, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he takes in our new attire. "Ye clean up nicely, I must say. Lookin' right sharp, the lot of ye."
The captain gives an approving nod, clearly impressed by the transformation. "Now that yer properly outfitted, ye'll blend in better with the crowd here. Fewer suspicious glances thrown yer way, I reckon."
I can't help but let a smirk sneak across my face as I smooth down the front of my leather pants. "What can I say? Impressing people is our thing."
Gideon chuckles and waves us over. "Come on, let's have a round of rum and a game of cards."
We gather around the table, and a voluptuous waitress with a mane of blonde locks sashays over, plunking mugs of rum in front of us. I whiff the amber liquid and nearly choke on the spot.
"Whew," I cough, eyes watering just a bit. "That’s some serious stuff."
Gideon grins, taking a hearty swig from his mug. "Aye, that it is, lass. But it'll put some hair on your chest."
I roll my eyes at his display of bravado but take a cautious sip anyway. The rum sears its way down, setting my belly ablaze and giving me a delightful little buzz.
"So, what's the game?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at the deck of cards in the center of the table.
"Black poker, five cards," Gideon replies, his fingers deftly shuffling the deck. "Ye know how to play, lass?"
I shrug, a confident smirk tugging at my lips. "I think I can figure it out."
Gideon nods, handing out stacks of coins to Rhyland, Erik, and me. "Consider this a loan," he says with a wink. "Ye'll pay me back in full, of course."
I snort, my fingers closing around the cool metal. "Of course."
Gideon launches into a rapid-fire rundown of the game. I tune in just enough to catch the basics: Poker. We're talking five cards, bets placed, and the best hand wins. Bluffing's key; you’ve got to know when to fold or go all in.
As he drones on, I analyze the rules in my head, my brain working overtime. Really, this is just a glorified exercise in probability and psychology—a fancy game of numbers and reading people.
It's just another puzzle to solve, and I'm a pro at cracking codes. Bring it on.
As the game starts, I scope out the other pirates at the table. To my left, there's this grizzled old sea dog with an eye patch and a gnarly scar running down his weathered cheek. He goes by Will.
Finn, the Captain's trusty right-hand man, raises his mug in my direction, a playful glint in his eye. "Look at you, lass. All gussied up and ready to take on the world. Or at least, ready to take on a few drunk pirates in a game of chance."
I flash him a confident grin. "Thanks, Finn. Hope you're ready to lose?"
Finn chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, I'd like to see you try."
Next to the Captain is this young, cocky pirate with a mop of curly black hair and a gold hoop earring. He keeps trying to catch my eye, his gaze drifting south to the displayed goods. Please, buddy. Eyes up here.
And then there's Izabelle, with her flowing brown locks and tits practically spilling out of her top. Those piercing turquoise eyes of hers are boring into my very soul. She's circling the table like a damn shark, her fingers trailing over Gideon's shoulders like she owns the man. And the way she's eyeing me? It's pure disdain.
If looks could kill, I'd be pushing up daisies by now. But you know what? Two can play at this bitch's game. I'll be damned if I let some pirate wench get under my skin. She can take those nasty looks and shove 'em where the sun don't shine, for all I care.
Bring it on, you two-bit hussy. Let's dance.
"Well, well, well," she sneers. "If it isn't the little landlubber who thinks she can play with the big boys."
I flash Izabelle a smile, my fingers idly fiddling with the coins before me. "Izabelle," I purr. "Always a pleasure to see your charming face. I see you're still keeping these sailor boys on a tight leash."
She narrows her eyes at me, her lips curling into a sneer. "Well, someone has to keep them in line," she retorts, her gaze flicking pointedly to my cleavage. "Wouldn't want them getting distracted by any... loose cargo."
