Friday, March 13, 2015

Daily Life

What is "daily life" to the general populace of the area? Are they well off? Do they slave away in some mine? Some examples of how to introduce this element:

Mining the salt of Sha'aqui is hard enough work on its own, but salt saps the hot air of all moisture. Most don't have the fortitude to last a week. If there was any ounce of morale remaining after working fourteen hours shifts, the Beaters made sure to forcibly remove it. But if you're "lucky" enough to survive, you'll be granted meager hydration privileges. It seems only the vilest souls, the kind who feed on the hard work  and good will of others, those who fester in the heart of community, make seniority out of spite. They live to become the Beaters, to be the ones who lace the workers' hard earned water with just enough salt to keep them thirsting for more. This is no place for kindness, nor pity, nor mercy. This is hell. 
These slaves lead a harsh life, knowing that they can only improve their lot by becoming what they despise. 

The briny mists rise from the sea this morning. The first mate bellows the routine orders, and deckhands scurry 'bout the ship coiling rope, adjusting sails, swabbing the *snicker* poop-deck, etc. The Captain of the corvette Desire begins her daily rounds, inspecting the wood for signs of damage or neglect, checking the horizon for storms, gathering reports from the night watch. All seems clear, and we approach our quarry. The Spanish galleon Tesoro should be returning from the Americas, ripe and heavy-laden with gold, spices, and maybe *drool*chocolate. 
The young lady captain is knowledgeable of her craft, and must keep her more "youthful" reactions in her head to maintain command. The pirates have a routine that probably doesn't need to be barked at them, but the first-mate isn't going to let a thread of authority out of his grasp. 


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