<div class="floatright">(http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/thetragicfragments/pirate.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Name:</strong> Govad<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Entering the Blue Iguana<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Open</span></div><br/><br/>Govard hated land. Hated that it didn’t move as it ought, that it lurched about in a most unnatural manner underfoot, seeking constantly to have him over and tumbled in the muck. He couldn’t even slit a man’s throat without falling down – his right side was now all over in blood thanks to that. The louse ridden bastard, spoiling his coat and for naught but killing a fighting cock.<br/><br/>He stumbled over his own feet as the world tilted again, and he gave a savage snarl at the portly man he had ran into. “Watch yourself you piss filled whore’s son!” he roared, his hands grasping fistfuls of grubby clothing.<br/><br/>The man’s bloodshot eyes narrowed and Govad was shoved away, and collided with the door of a tavern that swung wide as he smacked into it, sending him once again to the floor. “I’ll use your blubber for lamp oil, you rancid pock,” He snarled as he struggled against the determined grip of gravity. The cur drawled something in an Arabic language and spat at him before laughing and walking on.<br/><br/>It was an ungraceful battle to get to his feet, but one that Govad won eventually, with the aid of three Spaniards he thought he recognised. He started to follow after the bastard but they pushed a flagon into his hands, as a distraction or a peace offering, he didn’t know. Nor did he care.<br/>