Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-26446054-20150905224128/@comment-27783182-20150909205333

Inside the crew's cabin, there were many redguard pirates, sleeping in uncomfortable positions while snorting, and a single awake breton in a fetal position in the corner.

"Heh, watch this." Sandcloak chuckled.

She grabbed a Hammerfillian War Horn and, with all of her strength, made a loud noise that echoed through the Waterfront. The pirate jumped out of their beds and, while sometimes slipping, stood in front of Sandcloak.

"Ya gods-damned sloppy, lazy landlubbers!" She shouted. "A'ight, lads. This is Cyrnin. He will be your marksmanship trainer."

"Er, why do we need a trainer again?" One of the pirates asked.

Sandcloak shot a bolt by the pirate's feet. "Because ya always misses our targets, and, because of that, we're losin' gold!"

She looked at Cyrnin and nodded.

"See, this is why I need you, lad."