I feel the stress on my shoulder, the torque on my elbow, and the popping of my knuckles as my fist slams into this prick's face. I feel the crackling of his nose as it breaks under my fist; then I feel the stares of the other sailors drilling into the back of my skull as I watch him hit the deck. The back of his head making a loud, hollow thud against the deck of the ship. I know that this makes my plan to get off this ship harder, but I just couldn't handle the slight against my mother.

Everyone on the merchant fluyte freezes in place as they wait for what I'm going to do next. I look down to see blood pouring out of his nose. He may be a prick, but I don't really want him to die. I bend down and roll him over to his side, so he doesn't choke on the blood pouring down the back of his throat. I pull up my HUD to check the notification I just got, as I return to braiding rope.

Skill Level Rank Unarmed 27 1

Hmm, that's surprising. I was only level 25 when my body was uploaded? I mean, I'm no Bruce Lee, but I've had some pretty rigorous hand to hand training. It makes me wonder how high Bruce Lee would've been? No more than level 65... I think. I pull up my skill tab to see where I'm at skill wise.

Skill Level Rank Aerobic Conditioning 21 1 Anaerobic Conditiong 25 1 Rope Working 11 1 Climbing 12 1 Unarmed 27 1

Well, that's depressing. I guess it's cool that I started out pretty high in stats, but the experience modifier I have is demoralizing at best. Basically, the more skill levels you have starting out, the worse your modifier is for the first three months. Mine just so happens to be (Xp*.01). Which equates to getting one percent Xp. I think the average skill gain for players has been around two hundred. I’ve gotten 10. Worse is the fact I have no way of knowing how most of my skills compare to others. Until you gain a skill level in said skill, it's hidden.

The heavy footsteps coming up from behind me tear me away from my HUD and stats.

“What'n the hell happened here ya, dirty fucks? He looks like hell.”

Dammit... it had to be Tori coming up here. Out of everyone on board, he is the crudest and cruelest. I look back at the six foot tall bald man with a blonde beard to his collar bones. I still can't help but think he looks like a viking with his large boarding axe slung across his back. I follow his gaze to see the sailor still unconscious on his side. Shit, how long had he been out? Two, three minutes? That can't be healthy.

“Well, did any of you bastards see what happened here?”

Everyone starts looking at each other. And like a scene out of a movie, they all point at me at the exact same time. Fucking snitches...

“Well pretty boy, wanna explain yourself? I know you must've got a reason for fucking up this sap's ugly gob.”

I sigh and let my shoulders fall as I stand up to face him, “Look, he was talking shit about me and my mother. He's been trying to buddy up with me for weeks now, and he finally got mad that I was ignoring him. When he started on about my mother dropping me on my head, while getting 'split' by anyone and everyone I shut him up.”

Tori smiled showing his... really, really fucked up teeth. None of them could be described as any shade of white or yellow. They instead were a smattering of browns and blacks, and each tooth was broken off at varying lengths. Well, the teeth he still had at least. His breath was about as pleasant as you'd think, which made it hard not to empty my stomach into his face. It only got worse as he continued talking.

“Humpf, I guess he got what was comin' to him. Just drag him off to a shady spot so he don't keel over from the heat. Get back ta' work after yer' done wit' him.”

The only thing holding back the food in my belly now, was how much I had to pay for it. Well, bribing the cook was a more accurate term instead of ‘paying’. The temp crew I'm apart of get hardtack 'biscuits' as rations. These were simply flour and water mixed together and baked until slightly burnt. They kept for months at a time but weren't very nutritious. Which ended up leading to mild starvation for the sailors working in the oppressive Caribbean heat. No sailor could eat enough 'biscuit' by itself to be remotely healthy.

Which is why half my wage went to bribing the cook for butter, cheese, and a bit of dried meat to supplement the regular ration of those unforgivably bland 'biscuits'. Just so you know, I've seen someone break a tooth on them. So, it’s money well spent, or so I tell myself.

After I had finished dragging the apparently concussed sailor to the shade, he had started coming around. Before he started pelting me with questions like, “Where am I?” or “Who are you?” or “Who Am I?” I drop him hurriedly. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite as stirred as I thought, as his face hits the deck. Hard. I hurriedly go back to where I was splicing rope before he finishes coming to.

After about thirty minutes, Captain Saehrimir strolls out on the deck like a pompous pig. That is only a moderate euphemism. He is almost as wide as he is tall, perpetually red in the face, and has a pitiful comb-over that barely constitutes as hair. Couple that with his upturned nose and ridiculous outfit, it's hard not to think 'Cap'n Piggy' when he walks by.

As he looks around the deck, he sees the sailor still laying in the shade. At this point, I am seriously worried that I may have killed him. He hasn't really moved in thirty minutes, and I can't tell if he's breathing this far away from him.

“What is this mangy vagrant doing? Sleeping in the shade?” The Captain walks over to him and kicks him hard in the side. The sailor bolts upright looking around like he has no idea where he is. Actually, he probably doesn't know where he is. The look of confusion eventually abates to a look of remembrance, then to a look of hatred... directed at me. I look down and continue working on my current section of rope.

“Do you suppose I pay you for sleeping in the shade? Or did you think you could take advantage of my generosity? Ten pesos is much more than any of you deserve. Oh, but I suppose you must be much too fagged to repay my generosity?”

The sailor starts to offer an explanation, but he's cut off by a thick cane landing heavily across his back. He stands up with one hand held outstretched towards the captain and the other hand holding his back. The captain swings his cane again, causing the poor man to trip up and land on his back. His head connects with the deck again, knocking him out.

“Mmhh, I suppose I was overzealous with my discipline.” He turns to the rest of the crew, “When he wakes up, tell him he will not be reprimanded. I simply wish for him to return to work, and he will be forgiven for his lazy transgressions.”

Wow... it still surprises me how much this asshole thinks of himself. I guess he must be pretty wealthy to own his own ship, and he's gotta have connections to get the backing to move this amount of goods. It's just he very well could have killed that man, but he's forgiving him? I guess some people's self-worth is boundless. Although, if I’m around when the captain dies… I am most definitely befriending his killer.

He walks around for a few more minutes before he starts threatening to whip anyone not working to his standards. After he strokes his own ego for a moment longer, he retreats back into his quarters. It's incredibly stressful to be around that fat little man. You never know when he may lose it and start beating someone mercilessly. Although, if I was sweaty as he stays, I’d be in a bad mood as well.

The next few hours go on without incident. We make it around the eastern edge of Cuba, well on our way to Charleston to deliver the goods on our overloaded ship. At about three in the afternoon, a man with Asian features strolls out onto the deck holding a needlessly intricate spyglass.

He extends the spyglass to its full length and begins to scan the horizon for ships. The crew visibly relaxes when they realize who it is. This is the only guard that treats any of us with respect. He doesn't needlessly discipline the crew like the captain. Nor does he verbally abuse and throw his authority around like Tori. I'm not positive how the pecking order is arranged, but Tao and Tori are second only to the captain in power aboard The Narwhal.

We keep sailing northward on the Dutch Fluyte making good time. I actually like the ship quite a lot. She is very sound, and she pulls at least five knots. Which is saying something, since the ship sits extremely low in the water. Most ships loaded down like this would most definitely take on water through the gunports, but this ship conveniently lacks them. The ship is able to carry crazy amounts of cargo, but that surplus of cargo and lack of defenses makes this ship an irresistible target for any pirates, which was the main reason I picked this ship to work on. I just hope my plan pans out soon, or I run the risk of losing the support of my fans.

At the beginning, I was one of the most hyped players in the world, but I have made a couple of questionable decisions unfortunately. Getting drunk, accusing someone of cheating, and breaking their nose is a great way of getting locked up for three weeks, especially if said person is the governor's nephew. Getting basically banned from the default player spawn of Port Royal is a great way of setting yourself back when most of the jobs for newbs come from there. Havana is a much less forgiving city for new players.

Tao yelling suddenly breaks me out of my self reflection, “Men, one of you needs to get Captain Saehrimir up here. A ship just came out of a cove, and it's moving towards us fast.”

It takes the captain thirty freaking minutes to get topside. By that time the ship is less than a hundred yards out. It is a large brig that is way too fast to be a merchant vessel. So, it is either a military vessel, or a pirate ship. Since it isn’t flying any nation's flag, my money is on pirates.

My question is quickly answered when the ship in question raises a black flag. A skeleton with a flintlock pistol raised towards it's own head and a hourglass spilled on it's side with red sand spilling out adorned it. The message is pretty clear as Jolly Rogers go. Surrender or you're essentially killing yourselves, because we are as inevitable as time and death.

Back on top, Tao and the captain are discussing what the plan should be. I don't really know what h’s planning on doing. The only defenses we have are small arms and the two swivel cannons mounted on either side of the ship. The rapidly encroaching brig looks to be armed with nine cannons on either side. Saying we are outgunned is an understatement. The only reason we are still alive is they want what we have onboard, much easier to collect it while we are still floating.