Stepping back aboard The Squalor's Splendor, Lorsan was pretty sure the sun was trying to kill him. His head hurt, he was sore, and all he really wanted to do was get below decks and into a hammock.
Flopping into one of the strips of netting stretched out between hooks, he winced. It seemed like a great idea at the time, but the “Plunder This” tattoo with the skull and crossbones right at the small of his back probably wasn’t his best decision. Still, the week at Flotsam's Respite Resort had been wonderful. He’d run out of drink tickets, but, by then, people seemed to be more than happy to buy him drinks. He’d certainly had no lonely nights and he’d made a lot of great friends, some of whom he even remembered their names!
Lorsan had made a few returns to the Kite Fight beach after good-natured ribbing from Zinteal. He’d gotten better at it, but Zinteal was still the clear master. They’d chatted a bit about Shelth's mark, Yado Lazlek. Zinteal’s cousin had served on Yado’s ship towards the end of his sea-raiding days and had told Zinteal over many pints about the absolutely filthy amount of lucre Lazlek had squirreled away at his private villa. His cousin had said that nowadays even old crew members couldn’t stop in to visit. Lazlek had grown paranoid, and the new security was none too friendly.
Not everything had been revelry, or at least he’d managed to get some work done during it. He had spent a good bit of time with Vathunugoni. She revealed that shipping in the Windfall Archipelago had changed in the last six months.
"Even though it's the ass-end of the continent," Vathunugoni began, "the sea is lousy with traders from Damenthal making other ships scarce. And, despite clearly being merchants, they all fly colors of the Damenthal Navy. Now, the Scoundrel’s Code was very clear not to raid Navy ships. That's not a fight you win, long term."
Lorsan nodded. One of the first rules he learned, never rob from the powerful. The rich, sure. But not mercenaries or emissaries, no matter how fat the purse.
She continued. "And before, a merchant ship would never pretend to be in the Navy, because it wouldn't help. A bit of fancy fabric didn't turn a ship into a frigate. They were more likely to get hit for tryin' to be clever. Things changed with the Pirate Queen. The Code was now "navy colors" were the same as "navy ships". So, with so many Damnthal merchants flying navy colors, all official like, pickings are slim.
"When did all this mummery start?" Lorsan asked.
"About the time the Pirate Queen got her power, likely no coincidence there." Vathunugoni replied. "And it's just the Damnthal merchants doin' it. Everyone else is same as always."
Vathunugoni also mentioned that the Pirate Queen was press-ganging captains and their crew into service for her private use, instead of winning them over. Sitting on a resort island, Vathunugoni was quick to point out the obvious reason pirates did not appreciate that at all. That was almost the entire point of places like Flotsam's Respite, carrots to dangle in front of captains so they did what you wanted. No one became a pirate captain to be told what to do by some chain of command. Especially when said chain had been used to smash people into submission.
Lorsan's voice raised at the ridiculous farce of it all, but Vathunugoni was quick to warn him not to go around loudly grumbling. The Pirate Queen, it seemed, had ears everywhere.
Lorsan squirmed into the hammock until he found a mostly comfortable position and started to doze. He’d update the others about what Vathunugoni had said when he reached the Fort. But for now, hiding from work and sleeping were the order of the day.