Tattooer
Class: Male, Human, Craftsman, Thorwaler
Sell booty or a picture?
In a shop filled up to the ceiling with booty from all corners of the world, a woman is having an anchor tattooed on her arm. The tattooist stops working as he hears you enter.
“Sell booty or a picture?” he asks without turning. When he finally looks over at you, his eyes narrow.
“I don’t know you,” he states slowly.“You’ll get to know us soon enough!”
“Yeah well, we’re new around here.”
“But we’ve heard a lot about you!”
“With pleasure.” he speaks as slowly as before, and he gets his axe out from behind the counter even slower.
“So you want a tattoo. Which dragon do you sail on?”
“None of your business!”
“Any dragon that takes us.”
“Sorry, but we don’t know yet.”
“Only good things, I hope?” the man answers obviously pleased.
“No, quite the contrary, you lousy wannabe!”
“Especially about your skin art.”
“Especially about your courage in a sea battle.”
“You are without a doubt the most obvious fakes I have ever seen around here. Do you really believe we don’t know our own?” his easy smile is in marked contrast to the big axe that just appeared in his hand.
“I’m afraid I can’t tattoo you, as you have to be part of a crew first. But don’t let anyone catch you without a tattoo around here, or you’ll be hanged as spies.”
“You really are strangers,” the man says, and his smile disappears.
“I haven’t been at sea for fifteen years now. You better get out of here, before someone starts asking you some awkward questions.”“Who needs your dumb tattoos anyway!”
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Maybe you really are spies?” he wonders and gets out his axe.
“Then again, maybe not, but we don’t like to take any unnecessary risks around here.”
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