Brance Bootshot

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Brance Bootshot

Post  Bandanna on Mon Sep 13, 2010 8:17 pm

Brance was once a British aristocrat, living high on wine women and song, his political views and neglect of his duties often made him a target of slander and grog mugs. He was infamous for his long, expensive shopping sprees and unnecessary grotesque behavior, that is, until one night after a hard week of binge partying ended with a drag out tavern brawl. He awoke to a dark hole and a lot of shouts echoing in his head, reverberating around him as if from all sides at once. Finally the pounding turned to a knocking followed by a “Hey! What are you doing in there? What is he supposed to be the boot shot, hit the cannon with a bar shot right quick….HEY!”
As they drug him out they noted his lily white legs, followed by his hide, back and dark hair. As they tried to stand him upright, heave and ho of the ocean made him sway back and forth rubbing up on his captures, then getting tossed aside then rub up again, until the first mate put him to the ground. Brance realized he was at sea and promptly vomited on the deck. He looked up to see Boots standing in front of him, as he traced up the legs he came across a burly man who has seen many years and hard living, minus one eye and a hand. “Ya be one sorry excuse for a man, ya know dat? What are ya supposed to be, walking around in ya boots, waving around for all the world to see, excitin’ me crew, puking on me deck, boy give me one good reason why I don pitch ya to the sharks.”
“P – P – Parle” came Brance’s reply.
The captains’ sword flew to his hand, the blade came quickly to Brances’ throat, “Boy do I look French to you? Seriously? Seriously, what does that even mean ‘Parle’ like that is gonna stop me from liberatin’ ya head from ya body.”
“It means ‘to speak’ s- sir” Brance said weaving around the blade.
“Oh does it now, well I have heard enough out of you I think, toss him in.”
The two shadowing Brance picked him up by his arms, and began to drag his to the rail. As they held him bent over the rail, one asked “anything else you would like to par-le?”
“Yeah, Brance said, I think in gonna be sick.” With that Brance puked on one guard and decked the other as his hand came free, he took the sword from the first and tossed him in following the second. He flew across the deck at the captain, slamming him to the ground, his sword against the captains’ neck. Several swords came to Brances’ throat, but stopped.
“What are ya waitin’ on, kill’im!” the Captain screamed.
“Negative old man!” came the call from the crowd, “For to long we have sailed under your tyranny, but no more!” The bosun said as he stepped forward.
As the swords backed off of Brances’ throat, his sword sunk into the Captain.
“Hail the new Captian!! Captain… Bootshot” the call came from around the ship.
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Bandanna
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