A yell “OIIII! BOSS!” rings out from the upper deck as multiple loud sets of feet come barreling across the platform. Even with a ruckus though, his hand never falters on the hilt of a fadlock .37. The alchemist’s fire explodes from within the chamber, after he pulls the trigger, sure of his accuracy. An iron projectile, expelled from the weapon, flies towards its target, an empty iron flask that used to contain rum resting atop a crewmate’s head. The container stands no chance as the projectile penetrates both sides, transferring some of its momentum to the flask before leaving it. The flask hits the wall when the cabin door is wrenched open by the crewmate yelling across the upper deck.
The man pants a bit, catching his breath, “Oi, Boss!”. Setting down the smoking weapon, he grins widely, baring teeth to his comrade. “I heard you the first time. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until I was finished practicing?” “Two of em left the town just now. The red haired elven girl and the dragonborn boss! We got em split up! Ain’t we gonna get em now?”
Laughing devilishly, the grin stretches into a smile as he replies, “This is good for us. Continue monitoring them. Remember, we want the elven cleric carrying the artifact. If the other two leave, then we’ll wait for her to be isolated. I’ll let the Captain know that we’re almost ready to let loose.”
The loud crewmate returns a smirk, nodding in understanding. “Right boss, we’ll show em to mess with the Fadlings!” He leaves, closing the door behind him. The man practicing picks up his weapon of choice, taking aim once more. His eyes narrow, thinking to himself ‘Yes we will’, as another iron projectile is forcefully expelled from the weapon, the smoke rising into the musty air on the cabin deck.