Taset 'Spearow' ;; Anthro/Human
No one ever said that being a female pirate was going to be easy. With the morals of 'true' pirates, it was considered unlucky to have a women aboard ship. Even if this belief was disregarded, it wasn't as if the more burly, repulsive, and otherwise vulgar would let you be left alone. All about the ol' traditional pirating customs or getting in your pants. Either way, the harassment came often.
Spearow, as she preferred to be called by the rest of the crew, had done well in defending herself against these assaults many times since her stay on the ship. Many women would have ran away under the conditions, not she. She was sticking this out. She was as good as any of the men, and she'd prove it, even if everything was stacked against her favor.
Yet, she could only do so much in her defense. When you were outnumbered and had to already deal with the naturally lighter and weaker feminine body, things weren't looking very good.
Out at sea, she was tending to the chores she'd been assigned. Diligent in what she was instructed to do, she was trying to focus on her current work, scrubbing down the deck. It was a difficult task to focus on once you were cornered, which was her case. She had the blasted mop, brush and pail with her, with her back against a wall of the large ship, her front and sides covered by a group of men from the crew, ones that had all confronted her before. Alone was fine, but this was ridiculous. Each one appeared to have different aims. Some trying to get her to leave, some just to fire her up, and other wanting to get in bed with her. Apparently, they lacked their wenches, so sought one out of her, among other things. She was a fair looking lady, for living on the ship among all the men. Despite the conditions and refusal to step near water in the open, she made a point of scrubbing down every day. Maybe she was living with men, in their territory, but that was no excuse to smell like them - the ones who didn't make a point of their own person hygiene. Her rich red locks tumbled down past her shoulders in waves. Not an orange red, a deep red. Kind of like a thick of blood. It was a fairly stunning sight to see. Two rows of horns twisted out from her skull atop her head. Her skin tanned by, one would assume, the sun. She was wearing the common pants, that were 'poofy' though were bound in by soft sole boots that strung up her caves. A shorter roughly layered skirt was over it, part of her female style. A black pirate's flag with the common skull emblem was draped around her waist to one side, acting as her sash. Her upper half was covered in the long sleeve blouse, pretty general. Though bound by a loose style corset over it. The get up was mostly in shades of brown, red, with the splashes of over color.
All the trouble was caused by one man, who was doing most of the talking. "Come now lassie." He cooed gruffly, reaching a hand toward her. It only stopped moving forward when she gave him a deathly glare and growled at him, which caused him to chuckle a time or two. "Now now, lassie, not gonna bite me are you? Why don't you be a good little doggie and come to the master?" It wasn't getting him anywhere.
"Ay, ye all know she be afraid of the water? Little girlie afraid she's gonna drown. Canno even swim. " Another chimed in. "Ye're gonna fall off the ship and sink like a rock." A third voice. "A ship is no place for a wench like you."
More insults continued to flow, getting worse as they went along. Until the leader of the men called them all into control with his words,
"Ay, men, why shouldn't we fix the problem?"
They cheered.
Good thing the captain and the other members weren't about. Off eatin' under deck or somethin' of the like.