<div class="floatleft">(http://img51.imageshack.us/img51/1476/654184a6aa5e57fc67fb1a3.jpg)</div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 30pt;"><strong>J</strong><span class="bbc_u"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;">OHN</span></span> <strong>F</strong><span class="bbc_u"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;">ALDON</span></span></span> (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=141932.msg6385799#msg6385799)               </div><div style="text-align: right;"><em>The Blue Iguana</em> {<strong>Location</strong>}                  <br/><em>Clive</em> {<strong>Tagging</strong>}                     </div><br/><div style="text-align: right;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">&lt;+————————————————:</span></strong>               </div><br/><br/>John had gotten far too anxious, again.  He couldn’t stop fidgeting and his most recent lack of sleep wasn’t helping.  The boat was docked — he could tell that much from his captive position in Santeri’s bunk — and it was pretty safe to assume most of the crew had unloaded into the nearest tavern, as well.  He very much wanted to join them in said tavern; a good few drinks of ale would have him put under enough that he might actually get to sleep for the first time in near a week.<br/><br/>He was a twitchy man, especially when his nights went ill-rested.  He was haunted by quite a few things, namely the ‘voices’ and ‘souls’ of the dead.  He couldn’t<em>really</em>contact them, but he genuinely thought he could.  Every dead man or woman he’d ever come across stuck in his mind like rot and refused to leave.  Even the animals as far back as his childhood festered there.  At least he was conscious enough to remember that he was the only one who could see them, thus most of his reactions were limited to quick glances or a small startle.  What kept him up, however, were the nightmares.  He could ‘remember’ what it was like to die, what it felt like for each of the victims of death he’d experienced.  He often had extreme terrors that left him screaming and fighting against his bonds or walking about the ship mumbling to himself in his sleep.  For this reason, Santeri often resorted to suffocating him or using some other similar method just to calm him.  He was gagged at night just to assure any sudden horrors wouldn’t have him waking the entire ship.<br/><br/>Santeri’s binds were good — likely the best in existence — but they could never keep John.  It took him a good while to find it, but there was a weakness, just as everything had a weakness.  With the right shift of his arm and the proper pressure, he cracked the chain of the first cuff, then just as easily broke the second.  He hopped down from his Master’s bunk, searched for weakness in the bind itself, and managed to free both his wrists from the iron shackles.  There was a collar around his neck, as well, but he didn’t have the patience for it.  He quickly rifled through a bit of the crew’s clothing, found a few things that fit (as Santeri preferred a naked John to a clothed one) and casually de-boarded onto the dock.<br/><br/>It certainly wasn’t uncommon for John to ‘escape’.  He’d leave the ship when she docked, get himself drunk, and then wander back, unless Santeri managed to get ahold of him before then.  That was always fun, he thought.  Not that said entertainment ever expressed itself in any form.  John was a pretty boring man, when you got to know him.<br/><br/>He took a good look around, got his bearings, and headed off to the Blue Iguana.<br/><br/>Despite spending most of his recent days around pirates, John still managed to look very out of place.  He still held himself like a proper gentleman, and his pompous air was all too obvious.  A quick glance had him noting each of the bodies he was familiar with, as well as many he was not.  He recognized a few that were playing as their opposite sex, as well, and he promptly decided they were trouble and he should steer clear of them.  He strode over to the bar and ordered an ale; aware that he had no coin on him, but he figured his Master could pick up the tab when he eventually arrived.  And, if not, it’d just make things more interesting.<br/><br/>The collar around his neck was still obvious above his nearly-too-small shirt, and the rest of his clothing was similarly ill-fitted; it was obvious they didn’t belong to him.  Rightly, John should’ve been detained.  Or something.  He still wasn’t entirely familiar with how this slave thing worked, despite how long he’d been involved with it.<br/><br/>“Y’got coin t’pay for it?”<br/><br/>Ah, so he<em>had</em>caught on.  Lovely.  He sighed heavily; he didn’t have the patience for this.  He considered his options, one of which being to head back to the ship and attempt to pilfer a bit of coin for his beer.  That, however, could be more trouble than it was worth.  He could attempt to ask one of the crew members in exchange for something, which would likely end in further unnecessarily trouble.  He tapped his fingers anxiously on the bar and glanced around.<br/><br/>“No,” he spoke quietly.<br/><br/>Fuck.<br/><br/>He stepped away from the bar, once more glancing around.<br/><br/>His eyes landed on Clive; the man and his Master seemed pretty chummy, so he was worth a shot.  Right?<br/><br/>Right.<br/><br/>Because he was desperate as sin.<br/><br/>He made no effort to be casual about his approach, exhausted, paranoid eyes set on Clive with obvious intent.  Again, it wasn’t the first time he’d escaped the ship, only to return completely wasted.<br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: left;">               <strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">:————————————————+&gt;</span></strong></div>