The Buccaneers Bay

[Drake]

Ambrose thumped the base of his bottle of rotgut on the table loudly, calling attention to himself over the ruckus of drunken celebration. As the noise quieted, he climbed up onto the table where all could see him clearly, wobbling slightly but managing to not fall on his face. Jingles, Ambrose's pet scaly-monkey-thing, was latched onto the leg of his pants with paw, and seemed to be examining an expensive looking watch with the other. Where he 'found' the trinket was anyone's guess.

Clearing his throat, Ambrose lifted his bottle in salute to the assembled Buccaneers. "Today," he said, words only slightly slurred from excessive drink. "Today we 'ad a great victory, one that'll go down in Buccaneer history!" He paused, letting the cheers rise and then lifting his hand for silence. "We've successfully robbed tha' bastard, Salivar Kiss or whaddever 'is name is. A bloody dreadnought! This is def'ntly one of th' greatest, boldest, most bloody awesome thing in th' long and noble history of th' Bretonian Buccaneers!"

Grinning widely at the cheers and taking a long swig of rotgut, he lifted his bottle once again towards the ceiling and yells, "A salute... TO US!"

He then then stumbles and falls over backwards, dropping off the table and greatly upsetting Jingles in the process, and lands hard on the floor, out cold.