The Stede Bonnet- Planet New London- Bretonian Privateers In-RP Recruitment Pub.

[FrankGambit]

Over the past long few months, Frank Gambit had been a frequent visitor to the Pub, basically any time he was dropping off refugees and casualties, he would stop by and give the bartender the latest info on the situation on Leeds. For a Libertonian, he was more than well liked and trusted. One drunken night, before any at the bar knew of him very well, he became the instigator and financier behind their now common effort to help fund the resistance on Leeds and fight the Frog Hoard.

At the time, Gambit had come back from a run into Leeds, visibly shaken up by the events and in trying to drink it out of his memory challenged the 30 or so patrons of the bar to do more than just sit on their asses and sulk in stupor. He stumbled around throwing credits at everyone, yelling at them and shaming them with a whole slew of phrases best left unsaid in decent company, the gist of which was if it was money that would motivate them, then he had plenty of it, but that as he said at the time, "I dare any man to try and clean off the blood you see on my shoes, it belonged to a man I did not know, a fighting man...who is now dead, but who I respect a hell of allot more that you lazy bums." right before passing out and falling face down on the floor of the bar. He had won the all over right then at that moment.

"Jack, no worries my friend, I got enough of what the Pub needs waiting for pick up out at the docks, import tariffs paid for." he says. "As for you..." he reaches into the side pocket of a new and stiff leather flight jacket, and pulls out a three ounce package of weed, "this should help with your aches and pains." he says as he tosses it on the bar.

He picks up his half full tumbler of whiskey and takes a drink. " I got the transmission you forwarded to me, what is it them fracking bureaucrats want now?"