|Bilge Rats| (A Pirate RP ~ Semi-Lit ~ Now Open)

[kingly]

oh excuse me Oh, sorry hahaha I guessed I looked over it on your form my bad.

[OhNoMan]

((Ooc: Its totes fine and understandable, as the first page hasn't been updated yet)

[~Firebird Rising~]

[Sorry guys! I've been a little busy recently! Everyone is accepted, and I'll update the first post now! ^^]

[VeryDengar]

Thumbless Jack Dawe |47| Surgeon

Jack sat on the deck, cleaning her surgical instruments in the light of the morning sun with a rag and a bucket of water that had both taken on a murky reddish color from her meticulous removal of the crusted blood from her surgery blades. She leaned against the side of the ship quietly with her trademark frown, casting her sharp eyes about every so often at the other members of the ship. Her pet monkey, Captain, sat obediently on her shoulder, chewing on a strand of her hair. Every few minutes she reached up to scratch him or give him a treat from the pouch at her side, crooning very softly to him, but still glaring at anybody else that might cross her eye line.

[kingly]

Trap; 19 ; cabin boy

Trap whistled softly to himself as he cleaned the large wooden decks of the Bilge Rat, a grime covered mop in his hands as he cleaned with familiar rapidness; he spied a look at the ship master, ceasing his whistling to swallow before turning his gaze away and continuing the bubbly melody he had made up in his head as he swabbed. The boy paused and leaned against the side of the boat and looked at the ocean waters below,

Poseidon; 22 ; able sailor

Poseidon offered a steely stare at Artephius as he glared around at her fellows, she was tightening a rope around the mast and doing a complicated knot, and she had simply turned her head sideways when she felt the ship master's glare. When the man turned away to look upwards, Poseidon turned her attention back to what she was doing. It was good weather so she had on her usual white sad excuse for a shirt on and her feet bare, the girl paused to fix the back of her hair into a loose bun.

[VeryDengar]

Thumbless Jack Dawe |47| Surgeon

Jack narrowed her eyes at Trap as she cleaned a particularly long and mean looking blade.

"Best to be stopping that whistling on deck, boy," she called sharply over to him. "Before you bring bad luck down on all of us."

[kingly]

Trap ; 19 ; cabin boy

Trap stopped whistling immediately when he heard Jack; he was surprised and looked around for a second before realizing it was the surgeon who had spoken. He grinned tentatively and leaned against his mop while his dark and keen eyes scanned the menacing looking knife in Jack's hand, "Who ever heard of whistling being bad luck?" he asked casually while blowing his sandy bangs from his vision,

[Todd.]

Arthur had woken up for some hours now and had been quietly scribbling down notes in a diary he kept where he wrote where they had passed, their routes, what happened during the day and the names of those he thought he had to keep and extra eye on. He glanced at the boy, Max, who slept next to him. The kid wasn't exactly feeling well, as far as Arthur could tell it was his first time out on the sea and he had been barely able to sleep the nights so far until last night were Arthur ended up handing him his bed and stayed awake most of the night watching over the boy. Now though it was morning already, the sun was up and it was time to go work, he got up and pulled boots no and his shirt, he braided his hair tying it with a male like white bow and placed his diary in his pocket, he grabbed his flute and headed over to deck then giving the old (on a gentle way of the word like the one you usually say to a friend... Like.. Old friend) surgeon a curious look, he rolled his eyes then and tapped her head gently with the flute, "What is the bad with whistling, old' Jack? A little music doesn't do any bad to anyone" he smiled some.

((Hold on, I'll pretty it up soon ^^))

[VeryDengar]

Thumbless Jack Dawe |47| Surgeon

"Tap me with your flute again, pretty lad, and you wont have hands to play it," Jack said, very unamused as she pointed her long surgical knife at the wrist of the hand Arthur was holding his flute in. "And don't be fools. A man who whistles on deck brings ill winds over the sea. Even if they're hardly men," she added harshly, words perhaps a bit difficult to understand through her thick accent.

[kingly]

Trap ; 19 ; cabin boy

Trap frowned and slowly started to clean again, his eyes still pausing over to skim over the still water and then the seemingly cloudless sky. The boy gave a snort and rolled his eyes, he dunked the mop into the bucket once more and said in a mutter, "Maybe it's just your attitude that makes the sea ill," Trap smirked at his own joke and glanced over at the some of the able sailors to avoid looking at Jack.