The Spicy Shrimp is recruiting!

[Osoa 46]

[!] Posters would be scattered around Brandybrook and beyond.

The Spicy Shrimp is recruiting!

-=Our crew at the wheel of the Shrimp!=-

You heard me right! We are sailing the seas once again! Our goal is to search every nook and cranny, every stone and pebble, and every bottle o’ booze throughout the realm of Arcas. Think you’re up to it?

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Who’s in the crew? 

• Taurin Leafwalker (me!) – Captain.
• Deek Driftwood – Quatermaster.
• Isalie Gardner – Medic.
• Father Jago Brownfolk – Musician.
• Pervinca Driftwood – Booze supplier.

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What’s the ship like?

The Spicy Shrimp has many features that make it great! Included in the ship are beds for the crew, a kitchen, a sick bay, ballistae and of course, barrels of booze for all forms of celebrations!

 

 

 

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Sign up for the Spicy Shrimp today! You know you want to!

((OOC: Shrimp Discord: https://discord.gg/Fj8wJQt))

[Balthasar 2497]

Gawain inspects the paper and the various sketches included, only to notice that quartermaster is spelled wrong and that the quartermaster looks like a blind man. He’d shake his head and wonder why they’d even let a blind man on board in the first place. Still it was impressive to have a blind quartermaster

[Apollyon 224]

Samuel Gaia would pick up a poster on his trip through Brandybrook. “This must be it!” The young boy said out loud to himself as he collected a few more posters, then sticking them down his pockets.

[Notic 953]

Sean walked up to the poster, his eyes lighting up with wonder. He crammed it into his pocket before his pet bird flew off with it. ”Damnit Claus!” He exclaimed, running after the bird.

[EpeonGamer 4]

What be the purpose of it’s journey?

 

 

[calculusdesola 1658]

Screamers of the Imperial Ministry of Intelligence stealthily observe the moored ship from a distance with their telescopes...

 

[TrueBananaz 46]

Talo picks up a piece of paper and reads it “Ain’t that fun. Well, I might as well check this out.”

[Trigamar 77]

Timoteo Lo’Reta Alejos is sleeping peacefuly in the steets of some city or other, when a tattered flier gusts it’s way onto his face. He’d scramble around, trying to figure out where the sun had gone, when God, his pet seagull, would tear the flier off his face, and start pecking on it. Timoteo would shuffle forward reading the paper as his seagull ate it. He’d  rub his chin, and would stand up, wandering off to find this spicy shrimp.