For the longest time I have been wondering why I was called to be a ambassador for a god. Days I wondered missing my mates and family in the north feeling like a fish out of water despite being in it. It was while I was resting next to the harlot that I had a warm feeling come over me reassuring me that there was a purpose. I suddenly recalled the high seas and how I really enjoyed them. I thought of my current companions and wondered if they could be as close to me as I was to the salty yahoos that called themselves sea dogs. Those were good times. When the guys attempted to liberate the slaves on their own without me I recalled the many times that I embarrassed Bizantium slavers by not only taking control of their ships but after liberating their stock, taking their pants, every pair. Nothing like a bunch of half naked men attempting to follow you. We usually sold their pants for cheep at the next barbarian port where we dropped off the slaves. Good times.
As the memory passed I looked at the sleeping girl and wondered if it was supposed to be like it was and that I was not giving the gods a chance to make some happiness. I vowed then and there that I would change. I also vowed to buy a sex slave (dwarf of course) and perhaps change her life to be one that was as good as mine. I am not out to be a mope and I am sure that Osiris doesn’t either. The seas are going to be a warmer place because I am going to make it so.
Posted by Overkill on the 15th day of Majestic, in the 22nd year of King Bafag.
Female dwarf picture courtesy of Zenfrodo