In the maritime domain of the Debo Kingdom lies a small isle known as Carrion Isle, also referred to by some as a pirate's lair. This island is home to various pirate crews notorious for their misdeeds and ship raids in Debo Bay. After their plunders, these pirates navigate through thick fog to return to the island, selling off their day's loot. During the day, many of these sea brigands frequent a particular spot for leisure – The Mocktail Cove. True to its name, this bar lacks real liquor, as genuine spirits are unobtainable for them. Every pirate residing on the island is already marked by the Kingdom's navy, with execution awaiting them should they dare step on the mainland. Hence, aside from the occasional stolen liquor, their only option is to visit this bar for some semblance of alcoholic indulgence.
The bar is run by a woman known only as Grim Grin Grimalkin, her true name unknown. Her nickname stems from her appearance, physique, personality... everything about her defies easy understanding. She embodies a figure far removed from traditional feminine allure, so enigmatic that even ghosts would be perplexed in her presence.
As usual, today was another bustling day. Dozens of pirate crews set sail at night, returning at dawn with various spoils. They traded their loot in the black market, then returned to their camps to feast and drink. Those less fortunate, who failed in their raids or returned empty-handed, either faced the harsh reality back at their camps or gathered in groups at The Mocktail Cove to drown their sorrows in “mock” liquor.
Grim's bar always closed before sunset as pirates embarked on their nocturnal raids. A day without plunder meant a day without food for these men. And overly excited men, further intoxicated, could cause mishaps during their raids. As the sun neared the horizon, Grim forcefully ejected several persistently drinking patrons, subdued a drunken man loudly proposing to her, and finally dragged out an unconscious individual.
“Wake up!” Grim shouted, dragging the drunkard while wiping the table of spilled drinks and saliva.
“Mommy, I don’t wanna get up…”
“I’m closing! Get out!” Grim grumbled, seeing no sign of awakening from the man and threw him out the window onto the street.
“Stop it... Let me sleep…”
The man refusing to wake up was none other than Finnegan the Stubborn, a pirate, but a rather unorthodox one. His incompetence as a pirate wasn't due to a lack of raids; in fact, he had raided countless ships. What set him apart was his steadfast rule against killing. Indeed, no rule in piracy specifically demands murder, but plundering often involves clashing with the stubborn, sometimes necessitating the use of swords and guns, which are indiscriminate in their harm. However, Finnegan stubbornly refused to reason, opting instead to soften even the hardest of targets.
Just three days ago, he joined his captain in raiding a small boat, only to discover it was filled with wealthy people enjoying a sea party. The guests, dressed in their finery, included a few scantily clad ladies. Typically, such a raid would be quick; if everyone cooperated, handed over their valuables, the pirates could quickly loot and leave with a few crates of liquor. However, there was one particularly tough individual on board. He boasted to others about being the champion of the Kingdom's swordsmanship contest years ago, a claim backed by his evident skill. As the pirates boarded, he initially intended to shrink back, but the ladies clinging to his arms, murmuring in fear, "Honey, I'm scared," spurred him into action. Perhaps driven by a surge of testosterone and adrenaline, or maybe just the alcohol, he grabbed a wooden stick and lunged at the intruders. The pirates, seeing someone charging at them, drew their swords, ready to strike, but were surprised when a shadowy figure suddenly stepped in between. It was Finnegan, bloodied but resolute.
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The tough guy, eyes closed, charging forward and swinging wildly, didn't realize he had struck someone until he opened his eyes and found himself sitting on the deck. Before him stood Finnegan, not particularly tall or muscular, his clothes full of patches but neatly arranged, indicating a person who cared about his appearance, albeit with the peculiar addition of a chicken feather duster at his waist. This unusual pirate had intercepted the blow meant for another.
Realizing he had actually hit someone, and a pirate at that, the tough guy's bravado faltered. He reeled back, his body lurching forward, desperately slamming his head on the deck, muttering remorsefully, "My lord! Forgive me! Please!"
The pirates, initially intent on cutting down this tough guy, were taken aback. They had prepared for bloodshed, only to find their own comrade injured.
"Come on, get him up," Finnegan instructed, wiping the blood from his face with a handkerchief while signaling the others.
The pirates hesitantly helped the repentant man to his feet. He continued sobbing and apologizing, until one pirate, annoyed, slapped him, silencing him. The tough guy, feigning unconsciousness, collapsed. Finnegan, wiping his head, borrowed a mirror from one of the party guests to check if his bleeding had stopped, then turned to the tough guy, only to find him passed out.
"What, he fainted?! Hey, you there, get some boiled water!" Finnegan commanded, and a pirate scurried to fetch a kettle. With the burning water at hand, Finnegan instructed, "Open his mouth."
The pirates, initially stunned, complied. As they pried open the tough guy's mouth, Finnegan methodically poured the scalding water in. The boiling water caused his tender tongue to emit steam, and the pirates holding him turned their heads away, wishing they could block out the impending screams.
Aaaah! Puh! Aaaah!
As the saying goes, a dead pig doesn't fear boiling water. This tough guy, only feigning death or unconsciousness, hadn't expected such a turn of events. Trapped, he writhed helplessly as the water seeped through his clothes. Finnegan, seeing him awaken, quickly stopped pouring, tossed the kettle aside, and embraced the tough guy. The party guests watched in shock, the men turning pale and the women screaming.
"You're finally awake! Get his pants off, bring a table over here and tie his legs to it, and someone get some salt for his behind!" Finnegan barked orders, and the pirates, though reluctantly, prepared the tough guy for his next ordeal, rushing to the ship's side to witness the spectacle. Finnegan, in the meantime, pulled out his chicken feather duster and swung it through the air, creating a whooshing sound. The tough guy gasped for air, still muttering, "Please. Please."
"Do you realize your mistake?" Finnegan whispered into his ear, "If you do, I won't spank you anymore."
The tough guy, already frightened and in pain from the hot water, was beyond comprehension. Finnegan, receiving no response, struck him with the duster. This duster, having seen many years and many backsides, never wore out. Instead, it seemed to grow sturdier with use, so much so that some wondered if it housed a bloodthirsty spirit. Finnegan's strokes were met with the tough guy's cries, his buttocks slowly turning from red welts to torn flesh. The searing pain of fresh wounds meeting salt was no joke, tormenting him into unconsciousness and back again.
After a while, Finnegan, too, grew tired. He patted the tough guy's head and cleared his throat, asking, "Buddy, do you understand now? If you do, I won't spank you anymore."
The tough guy, barely alive, gasped out, "If... I understand... won't you... stop hitting me... then?"
Smack!
As soon as he finished speaking, Finnegan hit him again, cleaning the duster of blood before asking, "Buddy, do you understand now? If you do, I won't spank you anymore."
The tough guy, now too weak to cry out, let tears fall silently onto the deck, barely managing to wheeze, "I…am…sorry..." before passing out again.
Finnegan, satisfied with the admission, nodded, wiped his duster clean, inspected it for blood, and, finding none, tucked it back at his waist. He then started humming a tune, grabbing a bag of loot, and walked away. The ship had fallen eerily silent; the pirates had forgotten to menace the guests, and the guests had long since forgotten their fear, all captivated by the drama unfolding before them. This might just be the most unforgettable party they would ever attend.