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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 00:03
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Post Act of Grace and Full Pardon - Introduction

Nassau, Bahamas, Friday, the Thirteenth of May in the Year of Our Lord 1716


Fort Nassau



Woodes Rogers finished writing his Act of Grace and leaned back in his chair. As he examined the document for errors he took the time to knock the ashes off his fine Cuban cigar. A slave, a black man named Joseph, came out from the corner of the room with a small pig-bristle broom and a little shovel and swept up the ash, an event that seemed to escape the notice of the famed circumnavigator and successful slave trader. Besides, he had other things on his mind than the cleanliness, or lack thereof, of his Royal Chambers.

A ball of wax sat on the table alongside Rogers' formal seal, but the Governor himself realized it was pointless to waste the wax. Indeed, he felt as though he was wasting both good parchment and good ink on a proclamation that would probably go unread by the very people he was looking to pardon. Rogers figured he could count the number of literate pirates on one hand and still have a few fingers left over. As pessimistic as Rogers felt right now, he also felt sure that at least a few of the lesser pirates, those who were more frightened by the prospect of a noose than being marooned on some desert isle, would find their way to his office and relieve themselves of their heavy burdens.

Once the ink was dry, Rogers rolled up the document and handed it to Joseph. “Take this to the scribe and have him copy out ten of them. Wait for him to complete this task and bring the copies back to me.”

“Yes sir. Will that be all, sir?”

Rogers waved his hand and waited for the slave to leave his presence before kicking his feet up on his desk and puffing on his cigar. It has begun. Woodes Rogers smiled.

__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ ________________________

Cayona, Tortuga, Wednesday, the Eighteenth of May in the Year of Our Lord 1716



The Barbarossa Brothers Tavern

Richard Thompson skulked into the inn and sat down at the bar, waving to the tender Simone Deloix. Thompson's shoulders were slumped, his head hung low, and a sheaf of papers hung in his armpit. It was a strange sight. Normally the well-known fence was upbeat. After all, he had made a veritable fortune selling off stolen goods to the folks in the Carolinas. And he had just come down from his home on Harbour Island in the Bahamas, a haven for pirates for years.

Thompson drank his watered down rum punch and tossed a single piece of eight onto the counter before standing and clearing his throat.

“Ill times, friends. Ill times indeed. It appears that our fortunes in the Indies are about to take a turn for the worse. I feel sick to my stomach, but must needs read this aloud so you may understand the cause of my distress.

“Act of Grace. Be it known to all pirates, scalawags, buccaneers, and other such persons engaging in the act of piracy; Be it known to all private shipping and to all merchants operating in the Caribbean Sea and in the area of the West Indies and the Spanish Main; Whereas I, Woodes Rogers, am now the Royal Governor of the Bahamas; Whereas I have been granted the power of executions and pardons for crimes against the British Crown.”

Thompson paused and licked his lips.

“Whereas it is in the best interests of all nations operating in the area; That, as of the posting of this announcement, all persons of a piratical nature are hereby granted a stay of execution and full pardon for their crimes provided; First, that they accept such pardon by the First of September in the Year of Our Lord Seventeen Hundred and Sixteen; Second, that they do so, in my personage in my Royal Hall on New Providence Island, Bahamas; Third, that they do so of their own free will; Fourth, and last, that they will cease all piracy on the high seas and will become privateers with the express goal of ridding the seas of the ancient and most deplorable crime of piracy. Given unto this day, the Thirteenth of May in the Year of Our Lord Seventeen-Hundred and Sixteen, by my hand; Lord Woodes Rogers, Royal Governor of the Bahamas and the British West Indies.”

Thompson paused for a second and took another long pull on his punch.

“It has been well for me to have known you all. I think I should like to have lived to my wrinkled age sailing with you all, but this...” Thompson choked up.

Simone stepped around the bar and pulled out the proclamation to read it herself.


Captain Olivier Levasseur, La Buse himself, just started laughing. It was a hearty, deep laughter, a commonly heard sound among those who sailed with him and knew him well. “Well, zat eez perhaps zee funniest things anyone say today. To zey new Goov'ner of zey Bahamas. May he croak in 'is sleep, za baztard!” He held aloft his tumbler of punch and then quaffed the whole thing, dregs and all.

“Shall we zeend a mezzage to zis new Goov'ner? Zere is plenty o'zheepes on za seas zis day. Mayhaps we sail to zee Bahamas and wreak some havoc, mon amis? Or d'you cow-ards vish to surrender to zis scumbucket. Perhaps you desire a pearrdon and za clean record? If so, zen begone because you are no' mon amis. And may zey Diablay himself roasts your zmall cocks for Andouillette.”

Thompson cleared his throat again. “The Governor is perhaps better prepared than you think—“

La Buse farted loudly.

Thompson started again. “The Governor has a few ships already although none of the big Man o'Wars have made the voyage from England. And this part here about becoming a privateer against pirates shipping is bound to draw support, even from our friends. I hear tell that even Ben Hornigold is considering it. A pardon? Hell, a chance to live on what we've already earned? I could retire to comfort and peace!”






[Feel free to enter the discussion. Now is the time to work out intra-party dynamics.]

Last edited by Mercutio; 13th of July, 2010 at 00:10.
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 00:18
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Emilio snickered from across the tavern. "A pardon? Truly, e thinks we desire to repent? To lead a quiet life somewhere?" The snicker turned into a full laugh. "I'll still sail with you, Captain, and maybe light a fire under this new governor."
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 04:52
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Kisuq's long-bladed knife thunked ominously into the cracked, wooden surface of the table in front of him, quivering on its point for a moment before becoming still.

"That is all the peace and pardon I have in me," he said as he stood from his seat near La Buse.

"We'll send a message to this Englishman, yes? Some fire-ships into the New Providence Harbor on the first of September would get the point across."
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 06:53
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"Sit down before you spill my drink." Doctor Samuel Leonard reached up and tugged half-heartedly on Kisuq's sleeve.

"Bloody savage. It's clear what the Captain thinks o' this nonsense. Besides, how many do you think will take this seriously? We've a grand life, the lot of us, and I wouldn't trade it just for a chance to work for nob. I've done my bit for King and Country."

Taking another swig, Samuel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin, raising an eyebrow at the big Indian.
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 11:05
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Catherine grinned nervously at the exchanges between La Buse and Thompson, and between Kisuq and the doctor. She never really felt at home in taverns, but felt it necessary to come with the rest of the officers and crew whenever they made landfall. She just hoped there would be no fighting.

She paused to consider the question for a brief moment, before turning to La Buse and stammering out, "O-Of Course I am co-completely behind you, mon capitaine. Who would want to lead the boring life of a , a privateer, when one has savoured the freedom of piracy?"
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 11:16
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Kisuq gave Samuel a toothy, almost incomprehensible grin that didn't come near his eyes. He was used to being called a savage; sometimes he'd kill a man over it if the blood lust (and enough grog) was in him, but the good doctor had earned a stay of execution for repeatedly saving the Pequot warrior's life.

Still, he couldn't keep a little bit of sarcasm out of his retort. The crisp French accent was a bit odd from his mouth even after six years of hearing it.

"Are you ready to give up the good life then, become an honest man? Plenty of weak-hearted scalawags will turn in their hats or turn on our sort over this pardon as it is; it will be even worse if we don't show this governor that we won't be easy meat."
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 11:36
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"Easy meat? With you aboard? Pfah! Not likely. How many times have I stitched your head back onto your shoulders? Nevermind, it's not important. My point is, my actual point is, I will spit in the eye of Woodes Rogers, and valiantly stand behind you." Grinning widely now, Dr. Leonard raised his glass to Kisuq and chuckled.
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Last edited by Doombot; 13th of July, 2010 at 21:37. Reason: Tense.
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 11:39
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Kisuq guffawed and slammed his own mug into Samuel's glass, slopping cheap liquor over the table and floor in the process.

"To takin' what we want and makin' someone else pay for it."
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Unread 13th of July, 2010, 14:50
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Ash finally spoke, his voice coming out raw and thin, and his laugh like a harsh cough. "Heh. You know, it's not a bad idea, really."
He had been leaning back, balancing his chair. He now fell forward, the chair landing with a thump.
"Don't like the terms, so much. So vague. And being a little thankful pet privateer, hehh hah. Gonna be his lapdog, put all your trust in Woodes protecting you, little Tommy boy?"

He leaned back, waving his hook in the air.
"Ever tell you how I lost my hand? Heh. S'pose I have. There's no comfort and peace in the world, Tommy boy."
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Unread 14th of July, 2010, 10:25
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"So, not a coward among you? Bon. Mon amis, we shall leave anon to send a message to this English son of a whore."

La Buse was beginning to feel his liquor which strangely seem to lessen his accent. His crew knew that he had a tendency to overstate it when ashore because he enjoyed the looks people gave him. French pirates were fairly rare, and flamboyant ones even moreso, which gave La Buse the uncontrollable desire to become as outre as could be.

The pirate captain sauntered over to where Cathero was sitting. Always a bit of a loner, that one. Which meant La Buse could trust the girlish looking young man in ways he could not compare with anyone. Well, Cikiyoyo Kisuq, maybe, but La Buse doubted the Indian could handle the mathematics and science involved in complex navigational equations. He sat and addressed his navigator in French. "Cathero! When is the best tide for leaving Tortuga?*"

He continued his address to the rest of his crew. "Then we shall set sail on the morrow so that we might harass the Bahamas. Besides, my pocket is feeling rather empty." La Buse stood up quickly and shook his tailored waistcoat which let out a pathetic clink, and at the same time managed to spill the rest of his punch. "And so is my drink!" He laughed again.



*EC see the OOC

Last edited by Mercutio; 14th of July, 2010 at 11:27.
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Unread 14th of July, 2010, 18:42
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[Knowledge (geography) 27 ]
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Unread 14th of July, 2010, 18:58
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As soon as she hears the question, Catherine's mind launched into the task of computing the next best tide. She'd taken accurate measurements before leaving for the tavern so that all that remained to do was run a number of computations, and as she did so, a soft smile played around her intensely focused face, more genuine than the previous nervous grin.

In a little over half a minute, she'd found her answer, and was satisfied that it was correct. She knew that few could match her navigational and computational skills, and the usually modest Catherine was rather proud of that, even if she rarely showed it.

Catherine leaned in towards La Buse, knowing that her small voice would otherwise not carry. "The next good tide for leaving Tortuga will be at 11 of the clock tomorrow morning, mon capitane."
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Unread 14th of July, 2010, 22:47
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"Bon! Prepare charts for transit to Nassau. I would like to skirt the Cuban coast, and go up the Straits of Florida, and come around to Nassau from the North. No sense in giving Monsieur Rogers time to prepare for our arrival."*



"Then we shall prepare the ship tomorrow morning at first light. For now, Simone! I should like a companion to warm my bed with. Perhaps you know of one who is, shall we say, unattached for the night?" La Buse winked at the bartender and she blushed as decorum dictated. It wasn't liked anyone else was so dense as to not understand that exchange. Magnus perhaps; he was a bright engineer, and an excellent shipwright, but his imposing size and his general lack of courtesy and common sense meant he tended to miss out on the finer aspects of courtship, even courtship that was arranged through monetary exchanges, as it were.

La Buse often entertained himself with watching his crew as they conducted their drinking and whoring. How a man handled his liquor, and his bander, spoke volumes about him as a man and as a pirate.

"Majestic, make sure the Crimson Widow is seaworthy**. Silver-tongue, we must have a full complement of crew***. And we best be stocked with rum and and food before we make sail, Ash****, or," La Buse paused to fake an accent, "we'll be drinkin' yer blood an' eating yer liver."

*Knowledge (geography) - hidden DC.
** Knowledge (engineering) DC 10 and a Craft check DC 15
*** Diplomacy or Intimidate DC 15
**** Knowledge (local) DC 15

Last edited by Mercutio; 15th of July, 2010 at 02:07.
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Unread 15th of July, 2010, 03:07
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Emilio sighed, finished his drink with a gulp, and kicked to his feet. "No rest for the wicked then, eh?" he said. He left the tavern, an evil glint in his eye as he headed out into the town. Sure, the captain could enjoy a night of drinking and whoring before setting sail, but Emilio knew that if they hoped to have a full complement and not just a skeleton crew, well, it was best to start now.

Perhaps his own foul mood was what contributed to what happened the rest of the night as Emilio cajoled, berated, pressganged and stared down any and all sailors who looked remotely able-bodied and forced them on to the Crimson Widow.

In case there were any spies or informers, he was careful not to mention the ship's ultimate destination.

[ooc: Intimidate +11 25 ]
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Unread 16th of July, 2010, 15:25
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Turbulent times it was. Like a raging ocean aboard a small ship. Magnus had made a living off repairing of pirate ships as they pulled into dock at Nassau and now...his livelyhood was about to get threatened by simple written words from a man behind a desk. Magnus had shook his head and immediately looked for a buyer for his shop. Having got out as soon as the getting was good he jumped ship on the first one out of docks. A pirate ship as he had but one destination in mind: Tortuga.

Having packed up his worldly belongings in a footlocker he had made for himself in case just this sort of thing happened, Magnus was ready to start a new life. He was determined to find a way to ply both his craft and seek a free life, sail the open seas and gain something he was missing. It was an odd feeling...like a child missing a rite of passage, or having a good steak without strong liquor. He had a feeling it was wanderlust or something more, but was determined to find out.

On his first night on Tortuga it seemed word had spread already regarding the letter from Woodes Rogers. While shopping for hats (he had heard rumors both that "all pirates love their hats" and "aboard a ship you must wear many hats" he had already picked some out) he was confronted by a French man. This was not the first night he had met La Buse as he had worked on the Crimson Widow. Surprised to have seen the large man here La Buse had made a private inquery and a deal had been struck...perhaps to the later surprise of his crew.

The door to The Barbarossa Brothers Tavern opened bearly tall or wide enough to fit the form who had to duck deaply and step sideways to enter. Carrying a footlocker effortlessly upon one broad shoulder the size which most men wouldn't be able to stagger about with and in the other hand (that he used to open the door with) a rediculously large double bladed axe. The massive man raised his head upon entering a bit embarrassed by the look he drew. Magnus sheepishly looked about for a place to put his things having not quite thought this predicament through before entering. Moving to an open table near La Buse's he gently placed his footlocker atop the table. Its patron weathered legs creaked under its weight as did the sturdy bench he sat in.

[ooc: Intimidate: +14 1: [roll]1d20b+14[/roll] ]

It seems he was catching the middle of an interesting conversation as one said, "...a grand life, the lot of us, and I wouldn't trade it just for a chance to work for nob. I've done my bit for King and Country." Magnus smiled. Perhaps this was the life he was looking for. A bar wench approached, "A chicken and Jeroboam of strong port." he intoned in the quietest voice he could muster and entirely looking like a man who was serious about consuming all that here and now.

Magnus listened quietly as the others conversed, silently taking note of the other's opinions as he downed his drink. He snapped to when he heard his moniker was spoken by the captain, "Majestic, make sure the Crimson Widow is seaworthy."

"Yes, Cap'n." the large man nodded. He approached the ship's quartermaster to discuss what he thought he would need brought aboard. A bit shyly (odd for one of his size) he approached the man he knew little of, "*clears throat* Would now be a good time to discuss?"
ooc:
[Knowledge (engineering): +10 2: [roll]1d20+10[/roll] ]
[Craft (Ships): 3: +10 [roll]1d20+10[/roll] ]
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Last edited by Lune; 16th of July, 2010 at 17:34.
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Unread 16th of July, 2010, 21:03
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Nathan didn't take part in the discussion at first, but when La Buse turned to him, a nod from the bald man seemed enough proof of his loyalty to their captain.

While listening to the other's words, Nathan didn't move his large frame about much, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his mouth set in a line and his deep-set, dark eyes slowly wandering from one to the other.

When La Buse gave the signal to get everything ready, Nathan finally spoke up in his usual quiet and calm tone of voice. Only in rare instances, such as combat, did he ever speak loudly. Or laugh. Nathan seldomly laughed, a laugh that never seemed to reach his eyes. "This offer will be tempting to some captains more than to others. We should sit together and discuss who might fall for it and who won't. We have to know the odds we'll be facing." Turning to Emilio, he adds "it'd be good to have news of any Captain who changes colors as soon as possible." He wouldn't have to tell Emilio that gold could loosen tongues, the man knew his job well.

Nathan's mind was already working on what he knew of other captains, structuring the information according to what characteristic would make them do it. He had to applaud Woodes Rogers for his cunning plan. They'd have to make sure it wouldn't take the course he desired.

And then there was the personal 'matter' he needed to take care. Which side would he choose?
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 02:00
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When the door to the tavern opened, revealing a gigantic muscular man, Catherine nearly choked on her drink. She felt herself begin to blush as she spluttered about, and before long the heat seemed to spread to all parts of her body.

She took several long glances at the hulking norseman, which she attempted to hide by wiping off the drink she'd spilled all over her clothes.

When La Buse told her to prepare the charts for the voyage, Catherine went up to her room to find them, but her mind remained on this "Majestic". As she looked through her neatly organized collection of charts*, she considered the various rumours she'd heard about him. They said he'd broken iron bonds in order to split the mast of a ship with an axe, then sailed away into the sunset. He was apparently a famed shipwright, having constructed several magnificent vessels for various groups (some of whom had stolen his work). She also recalled more grizzly tales, having to do with sharks and boots, and some other (and here Catharine's receding blush came back in full force) annecdotes about the man's physical traits.

Something about these stories excited Catherine in ways her own interesting life had not, and made her feel more light-headed than was warranted by her meager drinking.

Having finished her search for the charts, Catherine made her way back down to report to La Buse. Descending the stairs took a while, as the small woman paused a few times to stare at the large man talking to White.


*[OOC: Knowledge (geography) - 18 ]
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 02:47
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Ash got up, stumbling a little, before making his way out of the bar and into the town.
He would procure rum, that was certain. The question was more whether he'd remember to get food, or if he'd get distracted again.

[knowledge (local) take 10, result 17]
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 02:49
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Listen to this as you read. I think you'll find it fitting.

Silver-Tongue harangued and goaded men into service, using his gathering forces as an intimidation mob and left the more enthusiastic sailors to become a press-gang. As the bo'sun engaged in his duties openly cursing the stubborn and willing alike, he secretly felt a pride and a passion that tried to overwhelm a latent nostalgia. The pardon and the chance to go straight was too late in coming, and Emilio Innocente knew he was too far-gone to ever return to God's graces. The pirate was a born-again fatalist, and the nostalgia was too weak to overcome the rage. His fierce temper this night allowed him to be more successful rounding up crew than he had been in some time. Not only was the crew fully staffed, but for the most part they were true members of the Brethren, trained and ready for the seas and the battles that came with them. By first light a full seventy-men, ten more than they had landed with, were starting to haul casks, barrels, and boxes onto the ship's dinghy and a few other small boat appropriated for just such a task.

Meanwhile Catherine sat in the captain's cabin preparing charts for the voyage--calculating tides, memorizing landmarks, avoiding shoals and reefs, and all the time hoping the winds would comply. The candles burned low as the navigator spent her night slouched forward, nose nearly touching the valuable vellum and parchment scrolls, many of which were held together by prayers only and most of which were in tongues other than Catherine's native one. She double-checked the time she had provided the captain for launching, read through a book that predicted phases of the moon, and mathematically verified the positions the stars and constellations should be in for this time of year. She left nothing to chance and even polished her valuable Flamsteed quadrant and mariner's astrolabe. Catherine said a silent prayer as the sun rose and checked her banding and hair to ensure her disguise remained in place.

Ash spent the evening knocking on merchants' door, cajoling or threatening as necessary to ensure he was able to provide a full complement of food, rum and dry powder for the voyage. He cut an imposing figure, what with the hook and rambling on about that port or this whore or whatever came to his addled brain at the time. Despite the time of night, Ash met with little resistance and more than a few good fortunes. One merchant had a new batch of St. Lucian rum that he was willing to part with for half its worth; a sailmaker had just finished crafting a new jib which just so happened to be a perfect fit for the Crimson Widow. If Ash had ever thanked God for his fortunes, he would mostly likely sing praises tonight, but that was an alien concept to the worldly pirate. After midnight the quartermaster finally finished his business and found a place to hang his hat for the night. He was up and onboard before first light, supervising as the cargo was brought below decks and separating the deliveries by weight and contents so that they could be easily accessed once at sea.

When the Crimson Widow had pulled in to Tortuga last month, La Buse had made sure she was careened and fixed before allowing the crew to disperse. Magnus looked over the ship, and there was little doubt in his mind that the Widow was as ready for sea as she had been when first launched. The Viking took a large measure of pride in his skilled engineering workmanship, and that meant completing tasks on time and with panache. The Widow was clean as a whistle and smelled of fresh pitch, new wood, and sawdust. As the sun crested the horizon and cast a shining beam across the ship's mast, Magnus smiled.

La Buse spent the night with Simone in the Barbarossa Brothers Tavern, coupling with her as many times as his bander could handle. Moans and panting had greeted other tenants no less than five times that night, keeping most of them from getting a good night's rest, but as the captain strode out to the door and down to the harbor, there was a spring in his step and a pleasant smile across his scarred face. His anxieties were pushed way back into the bilge hold of his brain leaving only the smell of a sea breeze to tickle his thoughts. He day-dreamed of the gentle rocking of his Widow as it made way through following seas.

Last edited by Mercutio; 17th of July, 2010 at 02:51.
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 03:36
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Rest had not brought much peace to Crimson Kisuq; even in the grog-induced stupor he had managed to crawl into, he still managed to conjure the same nightmares the moment he closed his eyes.

Those eyes were still haunted when they found La Buse striding out of the tavern's open front door. He stood and fell into step behind the Captain, heeling him like a faithful hound all the way to the harbor.

"I think this Norseman was one of your better ideas," he growled in what passed for his conversational voice. Nothing about Kisuq was ever less than harsh, even when he was being complimentary.

"The Widow looks as sea-worthy as she ever has."

Last edited by treehouse; 17th of July, 2010 at 03:50.
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 08:33
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Sam turned from the spot on the wharf about ten paces behind Kisuq and the captain where he had valiantly been trying to warm the harbor, and approached the pair as the Indian finished speaking.

"He has deft hands for a giant, I must give him that. With the proper education, he could make a fine surgeon. And if the mizzen breaks, he can hold the sail for us." Sam chuckled a bit at his own joke and then headed aboard. "I hope young Cathero is alright; he looked a bit flushed last night before he quit the pub. He needs a bit of sea air, I think -- hanging around all these women is too much for him."
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Last edited by Doombot; 17th of July, 2010 at 10:30. Reason: Tense agreement
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 09:08
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Emilio was busy making sure that the crew was more or less doing what the crew was supposed to do.

He waved at La Buse and the others. Dark rings were under Emilio's eyes and it was quite evident that he hadn't had a chance to sleep yet. "Yes, because the knowledge of being stuck on a ship with you lot for months at a time is enough to raise anyone's spirits."
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 13:54
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Magnus knew when falling in with La Buse's lot that his time practicing the French tongue would serve him well. It wasn't until last night that he found out how right he was as it seemed the predominent language to be spoken among his crew. He tended to pick up the languages with those he served with as he went and he was yet to find out how handy that would come in.

The only concern he had about serving with pirates was the more seedy ones. Typically the small men, the rat faced ones who liked to skulk about and steal things. Sure, the code was in place but it was a pirates life to find ways to skirt it. He was happy he had the lock on his footlocker. ...he also wondered what lands a little one like this Cathero hailed from. He didn't seem the sneaky type, though; obviously a man of a craft like himself. He'd have to keep an eye on that one. Something made him uneasy about him.

The norseman was a bit concerned about the appointing of White Ash as the quartermaster, but he would be pleasantly surprised by the morning. He checked through the supplies for the needed lumber and various metal products that would be needed for the voyage. Most importantly he hoped the other man remembered his order of salted meats. A worried glance briefly crossed his face until he remembered that La Buse had appointed the man for a reason.

He was deeply curious about two of the crew: Crimson Kisuq and Liquid Len. The former mostly because of his heritage but also to find if he was at all familiar with the Fox tribe. The latter because of the earlier words he spoke about already having done his bit for king and country. He wondered what countries interests had bittered him against serving them and if his experiences mirrored his own at all. Though deeply curious he would have to wait until such subject was breached as he wasn't the type to bring up such things on his own.

He wasn't quiet sure where the talents of Emilio and Nathan lied. He would have to watch to see where their usefulness came into play.

It was a long happy night for more than just the captain as Magnus worked all night on the ship. He was happy in his work and focused. By morning he had worked up such a profuse sweat he had to strip down to just his short work pants and chainmail suspenders as he finished cleaning up the Crimson Widow. Being finished a bit early he worked with the other crew hauling aboard some of the supplies from the dingies. As he saw the captain approach he stood resting his foot atop the guardrail and simply nodded, "Cap'n."
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Unread 17th of July, 2010, 18:50
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After verifying that her disguise was in place, Catherine exited the captain's cabin. She was already lightheaded from a sleepless night; the sight of Majestic loading the cargo aboard the ship, bare chest and legs gleaming with sweat in the new day's sun, nearly caused her to swoon.

She managed to catch herself in time, as such behaviour might well blow her cover, but yesterday's blush, which had went away as she dedicated herself to the task of preparing the journey, was back, and stronger than before. Despite small warning signals going off in her mind, Catherine couldn't tear her gaze away from the giant.

She spent a while watching him, until she heard him say "Cap'n", in that deep booming voice of his. This jolted her back to her senses. The captain would need the plans she had spent all night preparing.

She turned away, and went over every one of last night's charts and calculations in her mind, trying to turn her attention back to her navigational duties, and away from her new crewmate. By the time La Buse was on board and heading towards her, only the faintest traces of crimson still lit her cheeks.
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Unread 19th of July, 2010, 00:31
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Nathan hadn't spend the night idly, either. At first he had joined company with several mugs of ale which he drained slowly one after another. Rarely if ever had the crew seen him really drunk though. He never seemed to cross that border. Rising quietly, he then went to find their navigator.

Joining Cathero for a while, he asked detailed questions about their planned course, the ports they might head for on the way and the known locations of other pirate ships. From past experience Cathero knew that Nathan had enough knowledge of geography and sailing to understand her explanations. While Cathero continued to work, Nathan spent the time looking over charts and maps himself until - with but a nod - he left the cabin.

When Ash arrived to oversee the loading of the wares, Nathan joined him and inquired about the list of foodstuffs he had given him to obtain. A healthy crew and one in high spirits were important for their success. 'Mundane' spirits were as well, but Ash never seemed to forget about these. When satisfied that most on his list had been obtained, Nathan oversaw the readying the ship as well as offering a helping hand here or there where a particularly heavy load had to be lifted.

At one point he came face to face with their most imposing new crew member, the Northman. Studying him closely, Nathan took note of the man's muscle and warrior's gait. He seemed to be a formidable fighter, one that would be of great aid to their cause. The right corner of his mouth twitching into the semblance of a smile, Nathan offered a nod in greeting. Commotion caught his interest soon after. Turning, he saw crew and La Buse himself approaching. A grim and determined smile crept onto the bald man's face.
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