Yo, ho, haul together, hoist the colours high
Every once and a while, Ragetti couldn't help but to feel like he was desperately out numbered on the island which appeared to be his latest home. True, it was much friendlier and less troublesome than some places he'd made port in, but the fact still stood that he was in fact the remnant of a place that had long since died in the world his modern day neighbors. There was no place on this rock for true piracy, he even had difficulty calling that his occupation as of late.
As it was, he was beginning to realize that while pirates had been a suffering and dying breed of men back home, they were nigh extinct in the place of Tabula Rasa, had it not been for himself and Pintel. There were no shops to pillage, there was no havoc to reign and there was no screams and spurts of blood to line line the halls of the Compound. It was hard for a man who'd been a pirate for so long, one who had committed his life and his death to it, and only to be stuck on an island where the only pirate-y deed he'd committed thus far was picking pockets and then refilling them, or pillaging Death's poor, and now deceased, fish.
He felt that it was time he embraced his nature and showed his true colors.
He wasn't going to run around pillaging, killing and such, not yet anyhow, but he needed to remember who he was and that he was a no good whoreson bilge rat. So as it was, he was making a flag.
Well, as much of a flag as he could make. Some scraps of black sail that had washed ashore, and several pirate themed t-shirts later, he had more of a Jolly Roger quilt than a flag of any kind. And it wasn't even sewn together yet, as he'd neglected to find thread or a needle ahead of time.
Humming and half singing to himself, he spread out another scrap of cloth over the canvas of the sail and leaned back to critically survey his work. It wasn't anything any self respecting Captain would allow to be hoisted upon his mast, but as there was no ship, Ragetti decided that was perfectly fine.
After all, it was more of a display of his essentially patriotic nature towards his lifestyle than anything else.
[He's in a pirate-y mood, but still a great time to see or meet him!]
As it was, he was beginning to realize that while pirates had been a suffering and dying breed of men back home, they were nigh extinct in the place of Tabula Rasa, had it not been for himself and Pintel. There were no shops to pillage, there was no havoc to reign and there was no screams and spurts of blood to line line the halls of the Compound. It was hard for a man who'd been a pirate for so long, one who had committed his life and his death to it, and only to be stuck on an island where the only pirate-y deed he'd committed thus far was picking pockets and then refilling them, or pillaging Death's poor, and now deceased, fish.
He felt that it was time he embraced his nature and showed his true colors.
He wasn't going to run around pillaging, killing and such, not yet anyhow, but he needed to remember who he was and that he was a no good whoreson bilge rat. So as it was, he was making a flag.
Well, as much of a flag as he could make. Some scraps of black sail that had washed ashore, and several pirate themed t-shirts later, he had more of a Jolly Roger quilt than a flag of any kind. And it wasn't even sewn together yet, as he'd neglected to find thread or a needle ahead of time.
Humming and half singing to himself, he spread out another scrap of cloth over the canvas of the sail and leaned back to critically survey his work. It wasn't anything any self respecting Captain would allow to be hoisted upon his mast, but as there was no ship, Ragetti decided that was perfectly fine.
After all, it was more of a display of his essentially patriotic nature towards his lifestyle than anything else.
[He's in a pirate-y mood, but still a great time to see or meet him!]