The loot was spread across the main deck, which had just been cleaned very thoroughly. There were the usual desirables such as gold and coins of at least four different cultures; other pirates could take those. Rotter cared little for gold, and since he had first pick of everything the trinkets had to be spectacularly shiny before he even bothered looking at them. The Flying Rotsman would occasionally allow the pirates to spend their earnings on solid ground, although Rotter only let this happen at a few, select islands due to his insistence that the Rotsman remain a mythical ship, and having it casually float above every dock from Sicily to Honolulu would ruin the stories that had surrounded the Rotsman for two and a half century. If they had an over-abundance of loot, and needed to dispose of it fast in order to fit more, then he would have them all sail a conquered ship to land and not brag to the locals they were pirates of the Flying Rotsman, although he had no way of making sure they followed this command.<br/><br/>As for himself, Rotter never left the Rotsman.<br/><br/>His train of thought was broken as a pirate howled in pain, and clutched his foot.<br/>"Tell your mates that you'll have to be better than that to get me."<br/>Rotter did not burst out laughing like some did, only scowled. He looked at Aris with slight anger in his eyes as she walked away and he proceeded to walk towards her and the wounded.<br/>"Don't fuck the am'nition, boy. If I throw a cannonball o'er the side, then I don't want it covered in your juices. If any of you touch this sack o' bones, your nuts will take her place in landin' on enemies next time we fight. Get yer prio'ties straight, there's better booty to be shared." Rotter got a strange feeling someone had said that already.<br/><br/>He turned to Aris.<br/><br/>And he punched her in the face. A right swing to her jaw with surprising strength.<br/>"And don't wound any of my men. I have given you the night to figure out how you will survive, but do not presume I value your life more than the spit of a pirate. Go clean the blood off my pooping deck, both your own and his."<br/><br/>"Someone bandage that fool's foot. Who's the ship's current doctor?"<br/>"'E's dead, cap'n. Died o' scurvy three weeks ago."<br/>Scurvy was generally a trait that meant he had not been a very good doctor. He had an apprentice, who was still alive, but sick with scurvy below deck, and Rotter promptly decided to throw him overboard sooner than let him touch a patient.<br/>"So, we need a doctor. And not just for that sorry piece of whore's meat's foot, but for future non-scurvy-related accidents. No one got hurt in the fighting below, surprisingly enough... except the Phoenicians, of course. Good job, Yaaarrgos, by the way. Now... if I remember correctly, someone informed me that the ol' hag queen Efer is somewhere not too far away."<br/>"Napoli, cap'n, enjoying the bitches and rum."<br/>"Wonderful, and she has the pirate doctor, Maiden, who is said to have cured a dead man of the black plague itself. He was still dead of course, but no longer infectious." Rotter looked at the wounded pirate, who was sitting on his ass, holding his foot. "If anyone can reattach your balls, it'll be her."