"AHOY THERE! CAN YE HELP ME! I'M ON PACIFIST MODE! CAN YE HELP ME WITH THE BONE THRONES!!"

...fer the most part, I arrived at a positive response. @ZengarYT was the first to not shoot at me and allowed me to ditch my ship for his. BUT -- I'm gettin' ahead of me self.

PART 1

Fer the longest time, I was sailin' solo. Pickin' up stray loot and mysterrriousss maps -- it pays to read books, kiddos, even if yer being pummled by boney devils with blade and buster at yer head, hips, and calves! --

But aye. I picked up strayed booty across the isles and unda' da seas. At a parrrticular point, I had acquired a bounty for 2 chickens: White Feathers McPluckester and Blanco del Gallo, Exquisidor. Asides from becomin' a hunter of chickens, I quite non-figuratively stumbled upon a pig's pen, minus the pig. SO like any gold minded pirate, I went on a sought after a gold hided pig with the most easiest of ease...

The chickens wouldn't be as easy nor lease bloody-handed. In my gusto of gettin' EL Gallo, I plunked the wrong plumed fowl and had to perform an act of butchery to provide a vacancy fer Don Gallito over there. I knew my vow and full-heartedly felt guilty fer the deed. And aye, I could have chosen to not care 'bout the bounty but..nay..I chose to do harm.

Sadly, that wasn't the only moment of death durin' this one voyage but the second. Prior to losin' the one random chicken, I had lost the swine. In my pursuits and judgments upon that isle of clucky death, when I returned to me ship, I heard me pig cry out in bloody murder! The poor porker was STARVIN' to DEATH!! So I swam the fastest I could. I dropped the chicken by the steps. Ran to the pig. It was flib-floppin' in hunger. Gave a blood-curldin' SQUEAL and ^P**F^ disappeared.

That was not a good trip.

I tolled the bell six times before leavin' the shores of that Crooked Mast and placin' the piggies crate on the highest of rocks in memoriam... and decided to donate my wares of non-mercantile stock to the next lucky pirate, leavin' behind a Castaway, Seafarer, sunken Castaway chests and Hateful Skull on the dock of Galleon's Grave.

But aye. Back to @Zengar. Zen was the only pirate to help me with the Crew-Line of Boney Thrones. And -- my word maties -- was I gratefully excited for his drum-beatin' self fer not shootin' me and allowin' me get on his vessel.

It was masterful. We helped each other with some solo-thrones along with the crew ones without harming anything or one. But sadly, Zen had to jump ship and apparently that said with him. By this point, maties, Zen and I had bequeathed a lil porker -- and when Zen took the ship with him, poor my and porky were left a drift in shark-riddled-waters! ...I didn't make it out alive. By the graces, the wee pig might have made it in my stead..

PART 2

Upon returnin' to the seas, I was able to encounter @Cakerrie. In sailin' to the Mermaids' HideAway, I spotted her ship and started my pleain' call, "AHOY! AHOY! CAN YOU HELP ME! I NEED THIS HIGH CHAIR! I'M ON PACIFIST MODE! DON'T WORRY! I WON'T KILL YE!"

And just as before with Zen, it worked! I ditched me shrimpin' trawler and went aboard her vessel. We sailed and she was able to cash in her goods whilst I stocked up on supplies. And just like before, she had no troubles with me and me sabbatical vow.

Amdist the rounds of gainin' some solo and crewy sea cushions, we run into another pirate and his fellow. They were pleasant... at first. With their lexicon set at surly, they assisted us on a sneaky lil seat then a very upturned at snooty seat, seat seat of all seats, the MARAUDER'S Seat!!!

...how I loathe that apparatus that broke many a bone and heart in me body. This seat truly tests the wills of men, any sailor who DARES calls themselves pirate, a true buccaneer of valour. This seat --- maties -- either BREAKS friendships or REINFORCES them.

So... these buckos who brought Cake and me to said Devil's LawnStool had will... at first.

I'm not sayin' twenty to thirty minutes is a short breath, by all means, tisn't, BUT there is something to be said of a bond with words, and if ye dared spat'em out, ye best keep'em in that same chain of utterance. Within this long bout of patience, the scuffle of wills was lost, coats were turned, and two lady-pirates were left floating with no claim of title of oxidized toke' of Doogle.

It was long and night drew near. Cake's bed was harkenin' her to come, and being a faithful, sleepy pirate, she left.

I, however, still had solo seats to sit on. So. I kept to the helm and sail away, gazing into the horizon until!

As the skies brightened and darkened, something caught my attention from the corner of me eye. At first, I tought it was a cat or something as rogue-scallion, BUT it was more of a who than a what. Someone not as catty but just as scally but not so much as roguey. It was @Stacky-A! Aye. that same Stacky, that booze bombarding cohort!

There is something also to be said of persons just as there is of certain seats -- and by tether of so said persons in regards to those same said seats... and STACKY is one of them! Not the seats. The persons.

After helping her with her two lonely seats, we headed to Lucifer's Bench. And oddly, as sea-faring miracles go, I GOT UP THERE! Upon my SECOND SHOT! Stacy remained below, behind the helm, sailing southerly. The plan was to go out, askin' random pirates in some sparse patch of water and see if they were to render aide.

Ye remembers when I said, "This seat truly tests the wills of men, any sailor who DARES calls themselves pirate, a true buccaneer of valour. This seat --- maties -- either BREAKS friendships or REINFORCES them."?

Well, hours passed. Hours of me-sittin-she-sailin-she-askin-she-urkin-she-chattin-me-cryin-me-pleadin-she-returnin-we decidin-we-launchin-we-crewin-she-firin-she-sittin-me-tirin-and- @Tartansnake-8 -arrivin. Luckily fer Tarten and Stacky, they've already reached the top of Maurader's Peak. Unluckily fer me, I hadn't. And what could only equate to an epical and resoundin' scream of rage, a ALMOND BEARD was SLAPPED across ME FACE!!

. . .It bein' three o'clock in the darkest of morn, I called it a night and succumbed to me failure.

#StopTheViolence #EnactTheKindess #aRAREpacifist