There is delicious booty to be had. You hear it before you see it — the rumor on the wind, the clink of something valuable, the echo of laughter that could mean gold… or something else entirely. You adjust your grip and grin, because either way, you didn’t come this far to turn back.
You are the roaring warrior on the shirt, battleaxes raised, absolutely mad for BOOTY. Somewhere ahead is a prize worth singing about. It might be buried under stone and seawater. It might be attached to a wench. Details are flexible. All you know is you are COMING FOR THAT BOOTY.













