Despite being the adventurer that he was, Kail had not a single battle scar to show for it. That is, until he took off his boots.
Though he would never admit it, Kail had the remarkable affinity for getting shot in the feet. A few seasons earlier, during a resource raid on a Pleneasian settlement Kail was shot twice; once in each heel; while heading for the dock. He hobbled his way to the Pelican with cover fire from a couple of swivel cannons. The Pelican had already prepared to set sail and made a quick exist once Kail was safely on board. This little encounter earned him the name Lead Foot. It was bestowed on him by his first mate Foghorn, and he made it clear how much he hated it.
Foghorn greeted Kail as he reached the bottom of the rope ladder. “See anything up there?”
“Not a ship in sight,” Kail responded. “At this rate we should hit port in three hours. Two if this blasted wind would die down.”
After a brief silence Foghorn spoke up.” Kail, may I have a word with you?”
Kail knew that “a word” meant many words, and all of them likely disapproving ones. “Sure Foghorn.”
“I meant somewhere more private.”
Kail motioned his hand toward the door, displaying his quarters. Foghorn stepped inside and took a seat. Kail closed the door and took a seat behind his desk, leaning back and propping his feet up as he usually did in these conferences.
He noticed Foghorn’s somber mood as he fidgeted about with ship in a bottle on his desk. “What’s the matter Foghorn? Can’t get used to this being my quarters?”
“No, I gave it up almost twenty seasons (five years) ago to the day,” he answered. “I left this ship in good hands.”