Bucaneer's Den
Bucaneers Den is located at the south-east edge of Britanny Bay on a large island. It is more a wild conglomerate of huts and shovels than an actual town, and the inhabitants of Bucaneer’s Den are referred to as thieves and pirates – and sometimes even worse.
Secluded from the mainland, far away from the caring hand of Lord British parts of the city are completely unguarded and therefore the town forms a paradise for all privateers, pirates and other dubious people who rather do their business in the dark and without the presence of authorities.
The town and the inhabitants itself mostly lives from the goods stolen by other towns. There are one or two blacksmiths running their business in Bucaneer’s Den, but other than that the town is greatly dependant on the items and innovations of other towns. Some rogue wizards can be found, but magic is not cultivated as an art at all.
The vegetation around Bucaneer’s Den is an interesting one, nevertheless only scarcely a farmer settles down in the city, most probably because of the not so nice and dubious neighbourhood that is omnipresent in Bucaneer’s Den.
All over Britannia Bucaneer’s Den and its inhabitants are ill famed and looked down upon, and one must admit that the town had earned this reputation over the years. Especially Britain again and again expresses its abhorrence, probably because the capital of Britannia seems to be the most popular goal for pirates.
Nevertheless, there are fragile and hidden bonds of friendship between Bucaneer’s Den and Nujel’m, which profits greatly from the stolen items Bucaneer’s Den can trade with. Also, a fair amount of tourists of Bucaneer’s Den regularily visit the town of Nujel’m.
The only ethics the population of thieves, robbers and pirates knows is the honor-code of thieves. Generally, it says to not betray a friend before you are betrayed, and to not attack somebody who could possibly strike back with greater power. The only thing a pirate hates are people that are better off than himself, especially if they are too well-guarded to pilfer from, and a treacherous ally.
The only art practiced and popular in Bucaneer’s Den is woodcarving. There are lots of trees around the town, and besides drinking and fighting or both, woodcarving is the only possibility to get entertained while waiting for better wetter to set sail once again.
Most of the pirates are illiterate and reading and writing does not carry any profit to them. Their customs are hearty and simple and range from drinking games over rowdy brawls to tests of manhood. All of those “customs” are practiced daily and scarcely a day without a brawl passes by.
Whiskey in the Jar, by Ladislaw Redbeard, Pirate
Hah, nothing better than to arrive at Bucaneer’s again after a successful and profitable foray! Our boat applies to the harbor of the town and I can see some women and children waving and winking at us. Hah, no wife for a true pirate just like me, but a girl in every harbor!
I get off the boat quickly, I can’t wait to meet my old comrades at the taverns and join them for a drink. Our batch will be unloaded the next day. I grin widely, it had been a successful raid. Never I will forget the face of this bald, rich merchant from Britain when we got away with his cargo!
The streets quickly pass by when I am stepping forward energetically. Bucaneer’s Den is not a beautiful town, not famous for its fine arts or people. But for me it is the best town one can live in – wild and free and untamed. A home to those who are like me – restless, without a home and always sailing close to the winds.
I come close to the Inn and even from the fair distance I can hear the noise inside. I grin widely, hoping for a brawl inside. I push the door open and the scent of warmth and alcohol welcomes me. Some of the tavern-goers look at me bemused, maybe roused due to the cold, fresh air storming into the smoky room. “Ahoi, landlubbers!” I shout out, and suddenly a pitcher of ale pops up in my hands out of the nowhere. “Watch out, Ladislaw Redbeard is back in town!”
Rough laughter welcomes me and while I am walking to my usual desk the pitcher of ale quickly empties. “Dolly, whiskey!” I command the blonde serving girl. She giggles and replies: “One second, Redbeard!” I sit down next to some of my comrades, drink the whiskey Dolly brought me and start telling them the story of our most recent adventures.
