Roleplay Live : A Pirate’s Life.
Pirates with no pants
Players:
LadyBelz
CharlotteCarrendar
ZymoticFury
FireStar32005
LadyBelz: Having worked out her anger on the gulls overhead (and providing Cook with enough meat to last a week or two) Rachael cleaned out her pistol and reloaded it before stowing it back in her skirts. She returned below decks, still somewhat miffed at being deemed as “baggage” and knocked on Moon’s door. She would be unfailingly polite. Nothing more.
CharlotteCarrendar:- Moon was pacing back and forth, slapping the back of his hand on an open palm, trying to come up with a cunning plan, on how to mask the ship’s identity from the Port Authorities. Needless to say with Harold the Parrot’s incessant squawking, it was hard going. “Harold eats ya nuts…*whistles*. Harold wants Rachy..*whistle*. Taking out his cutlass, he pointed the tip at the blue feathered bird. “SHUT UP..I’M TRYING TO THINK!” The bird cackled as there was a knock at the door. “ENTER…at yur risk!” <3>
LadyBelz: Rachael heard both man and beast talking to one another and opened the door. She watched Moon pacing back and forth, wondering what his worries happened to be. “We’re nearing Port, Captain.” she stated formally, almost standing at attention as she awaited his reply.
CharlotteCarrendar: “Aye…and we be flying the skull and crossbones, on the damn sails. We sticking out farther than a baboon’s buttocks in mating time. We need a cunning plan to disguise the ship.” -He sheathed his cutlass and marched past the Parrot, who promptly raised its tail and pooped. Seeing his beautiful Rachael, he knew he owed her an apology, for regarding her as baggage. “Woman…I need that pink thing between ya ears to come up with a plan. *then he mumbled under his breath*…I’m sorry….BUT YOU DON’T BE TELLING THE CREW!” <3>
LadyBelz: Hearing his sincere apology, Rachael had to struggle with everything she had to not smirk in his face. She would make him squirm a while longer. But already her keen mind had come up with a plan to get into port without being obvious that it was a pirate ship that was sailing in. Without a word, she turned on her heel and headed to the helm. “Mates!” she called out, catching everyone’s attention. “We’re ta be sailing into port soon and the Cap be worryin about being the colors flyin. I have a plan, and I be needin yer help!” Pierre, who was on watch in the crow’s nest, yelled down to her, “What ye be needin, lassie?” Shielding her eyes, she looked up at him, a smirk on her face. “Yer breeches for a start, Pierre St Alain.” The men laughed, as Pierre went red in the face. Until they noticed Rachael was staring at the rest of them. “In fact, I be needin all yer breeches.” she grinned…Hours later, Rachael sent Tim down to the Captain’s quarters to request his presence on deck. He was in for a surprise…
ZymoticFury: Edward Foster had arrived at Port Royale a few days prior and had spent the majority of it spending the gold retrieved from plundered ships. It was good not having an infamous ship, it meant others didn’t know what to expect, especially as his main tactic was surrendering so no shots were fired and asking for Parley only to turn around and fire every cannon into the ships side and sink long skewers into the side to breach the hull. It had worked well as he stuck to shallow waters and the plunder was easily retrievable. Edward was probably the most successful pirate for his anonymity in the world and that suited him fine. On official dockets, he was an importer and exporter by trade, brining common and mundane things to people who viewed it as rare and exotic. It was easy money. That was why he was at port Royale, the cane sugar in this part was sold cheaply but made almost ten times as much in places where the cane refused to grow. So, having had his fill of wenches and rum, he found the dock masters hammock and collapsed into it, his tricorn hat slipping over his eyes to hide his face as he slumbered, the bottle of rum on its side on the floor, its contents spilled intot he thirsty ground hours ago untill there was no evidence it had spilled at all. He snored lightly but he wasn’t in a deep sleep, he never slept deeply as the darkness around his eyes would attest.
FireStar32005: Dirty Lizzie winked to Sam and took a quick swig from the drink he gave. “Yer lady wife can’t be warmin’ much ye poor dear…” she whispers back. As the wife returns she smiles turning away from the bar and walking around the room to finish her drink, tilting her head back to enjoy every last drop. She wasn’t about to waste it at al. The liquid warmed her up, and warmed the back of her throat. Letting out a sigh after the cup was emptied she sets it down on a table of drunks. “Oy!” one shouts to her. “C’mere lass, an’ warm up me breeches under ye skirts…” with a smile as she wiped a strand of her dark hair from her eyes she makes her way over to him. Another victim for the night, but she’d have to play the part to do it right and get herself a room to sleep in for the night, and perhaps a blanket for another night.-**
CharlotteCarrendar: – When Cabin boy Tim entered the Captain’s quarters, he had a rather odd look on his face. The kind of look a boy gets when he has seen something most foul. “Capn’ you be wanted up on deck. The crew…Oh me gods. Such a sight. Please come, Capn’’ Captain Moon wondered just what that she devil of a woman had done, in such short time too. “Aye, comin’ I am.” With that, he swiped his hat off the hat stand, and strode up onto the deck, where his crew and his Rachael be waiting. “So…men…I…” he began, but then, he stared at the crew with a sick expression. <3>
LadyBelz: /What had she done?/ one might wonder. She had taken the men’s spare pants, sewn them together and replaced the sails. It looked like a mad patchwork blanket flying the masts…and the smell? Ye Gods! “No one will be recognizing this ship, Captain.” Rachael smirked.
CharlotteCarrendar: – The Captain held his hand up to his face, and looked set to gag, for the seabreezes weren’t so salty no more. “They won’t want to be coming up wind of it either. Good..*gag*…work. Carry on, me hearties…without your pants.”- he nodded to the pant less crew, and new the tailoress in town was going to be one busy lady. <3>
FireStar32005: In the tavern upstairs, in most of the private rooms many a romping was going on. Even openly in the tavern a romping was taking place, the whole tavern reeked with the smell of sex, booze, and salty sea air and sweat. In one particular room was a romping so sweet to the ears that others listened intently to it. “That’s it deary…” a female’s voice purred behind the flimsy wooden door. “Are ye just comin’ to tease?” she played. And the harsh grunting of a male picked up even more, the noise picking up intently. The sound of the bed creaking from the weight of the two of them falling onto the flimsy mattress and the sound of a glass bottle shatters on the wooden floor. “Aye that’s it wench, warm me up ‘n me breeches, that’s it…” Dirty Lizzie looked down at him, as she rolled her hips into his. He sat up groping her with his grubby sausage like fingers, too bloated from drink and far too much meat to be of any further use. She groaned and moaned loudly, her breathing hot and heavy against his ear. She felt his yearning for a poke. “Ye ugly wench, give me what I is owed!” he grunted as he grabbed hold of her corset to tear at it. She smiled as he did. “Aye deary… I be makin’ yer dreams come true tonight… eh?” she panted. He tried to kiss her, with his stinking mouth, but she turned her head away and felt a hot fat tongue running down her chest. She cringed hiding her disgust, and smiled as she drove her gully into the back of his neck. He let out a croaking sound as she smiled at him. “It be yer dream come true ye slick sea dog… pay’n me naught but sixpence fer me womanhood? Ye better has more than that…” she purred in his ear dragging the blade around his neck and stopping at the adams apple once again. She looked to his jacket thrown on the chair in the corner, and the small shabby looking coin purse with it. Then she looked to the bed, soft… warm… a hell of a lot warmer than the sea air out in the alley. She covered him with a sheet from the bed and placed the bowl under his neck for him to bleed. Pulling the dagger out she tied a bit of lace around his neck to help ease the bleeding a bit. At least that way she’d be able to get a little rest without being disturbed.
LadyBelz: It wasn’t the most conventional idea she’d come up with, but with only hours until they sailed into port, it was the best she could come up with. Then she took stock of herself: hair grimy from the salt of the sea, clothes ripped and tattered in certain places, fingers crusted over with dirt and grime. She was a right mess. She told the first mate to keep a steady course and headed down to her own quarters to the trunk she had stored there. She touched the top in quiet contemplation for a moment before opening it. She untied the ribbon the held what was inside together and separated the folds of the protective covering. She stared down at the item, wondering what had possessed her to buy it. It had been when they had stopped in Puerto Rico one evening to restock supplies. She had wandered the shops alone and it had caught her eye in one of the windows. In a fit of female vanity, she had impulsively purchased it, hiding it in her trunk when she had returned to the ship. Turning away from it, she went to the table in the corner and poured some water into the scrub basin. Grabbing up the soap, she scrubbed her hands until the pink of her skin shone through. Barricading her door, she undressed, shivering in the cold as she dumped the rest of the water over her head. Taking up the soap once more, she began to wash and scrub her entire body, making several stops to draw fresh water from outside the portal. Once she was sure she was as clean as she could make herself, she grabbed up a spare bit of cloth, drying herself off. She found some clean undergarments and put them on before taking the garment from her trunk. She slipped it on, struggling a bit with the ties in back, but managed it well. It fit as if it was made for her and it gave her a small thrill to be wearing it. She pulled on her best pair of boots before grabbing the whalebone comb and getting the tangles out of her hair. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled a bit, for despite the eye patch covering her ruined eye, she thought herself quite beautiful. This was England and she reminded herself that certain proprieties and manners would have to be observed. She didn’t want to attract undue attention. She just wanted to make sure her mum was okay. Turning on her heel, she left the room and headed to the top deck. A couple of the men stopped and stared at her in disbelief. They had never seen her looking…well…like a woman, and a hell of a good looking woman at that. She glared at the onlookers until they returned to what they were doing. But one of the men, a new recruit if she remembered correctly, couldn’t help but open his mouth. “You look like a girl. Since when you start playing dress up?” he smirked. Rachael’s gaze pinned him to his spot. “Yer name, sir?” she demanded. “Patrick.” he announced, swelling with pride. “Patrick. Ask some of the men what happened to the last poor fop who tried to tease me about me looks.” she growled before she punched him in the nose, breaking it. “Daft bastard.” she grumbled, moving to take her place at the helm.
CharlotteCarrendar: – Naturally, the men were all a bit sheepish, having to do their jobs wearing their long johns, and some had less than that. One lad was reduced to a lap lap. The Captain waited up on deck, with his first mate, trying hard not to take in the disgusting urine scented sea breeze courtesy of the trouser sails. The First mate, whose hands were clenching the Wheel tight, kept looking at the Captain, who was still in pants. “Capn’…crew would be mighty pleased if you surrended your pants for the cause.” He gave the Captain a hopeful grin, even though he was missing a few teeth. The Captain, well, he wasn’t having a bar of it. “My pants are imported. All the way from Egypt. I ain’t hoisting them up there. “ But…all the crew looked up to the Captain, with such pitiful expressions. The Captain turned his head back and forth, and saw there was nothing else for it. If he was not one with the men, they could well get a new Captain. Skipping off his pants, he handed them to Cabin boy Tim, who raced the pants over, close to the main sail, and attached them to the rigging. And..up up up they went. All the men stopped and saluted as the pants went skyward, and then Captain grumbled, folding his arms. Just then, the lovely Rachael appeared on deck, and looked a right sight. Like..a pineapple in amongst a lot of rotten fruit. She looked stunning and all the men were suddenly losing blood from their brains, to a lower part of their anatomy. The Captain’s was so large, he took his hat off and used it as a cover. “God…gah…Women should cover up, I say!…Bad for the health of my men. “ Yet, none seemed to complain…yet.<3>
LadyBelz: She turned and noticed Moon standing there, and had a sudden bout of self-consciousness. Feeling embarrassed for some reason, she tried using her hair to cover her face, completely missing his (and a few other’s) more base reactions to her presence. “Why’s everyone looking at me like I’ve got tentacles growin out me ears?” she scowled. “Ye’ve seen me in a dress before.”
CharlotteCarrendar: – “Aye. But the men are growing tentacles in their underpants!” All the men nodded, while one cheeky young pirate could be heard fapping behind a barrel of rum. “Hehehehe-snigger- *fap fap furiously fapping, fap fap*…hehehehehe.” <3>
LadyBelz: ‘Aye. But the men are growing tentacles in their underpants!” Moon told her. She could hear one poor soul taking care of himself behind one of the barrels. She glanced up and around, noticing all the men in similar states. Smirking (never a good think when it’s Rachael doing the smirking) she made her way to the main deck, noticing Cook was there as well. He had a meat cleaver in one hand and a roll of sausage links in the other. She held out her hands in a “May I?” gesture. Nodding, he passed them to her and she placed the sausages over the top of one of the barrels. She caught each man’s eye, “Get yer minds out of me skirts, mates.” And without another word, she brought the meat cleaver down upon the sausages, chopping them into two pieces. Passing the instrument of torture back to Cook, she returned to the helm without another word spoken. “Land ho!” shouted Pierre from the crow’s nest as the docks of Port Royale came into view.
ZymoticFury: No ship was ever silent as it sailed, especially as it came to port, there were always telltale noises, the command of a man to his subordinates, the wind hitting the sails, the creak of the wood, the slap of the water against the hull. The wind carried the sounds (and smells) and he recognised enough in his sleep state to know to wake up. Edward foster stirred slowly, faking a hangover as he lifted his hat back atop his head. He sat up, making sure everything was in order and searched for his bottle of rum. He found it by his hammock and he grabbed it, shaking it. “Some bastards stolen a drink o’ me rum! The thieving bastards! if I ever find ye, ye better run!” He seemed to be shouting at the thin air around him, swaying in the hammock, looking dangerously close to falling out of it like a normal drunkard would. He got up out of the hammock, swaying in the breeze and taking a few falsely shaky steps forward as he looked out over the waters. He could spy the ship that he heard drawing closer with the most ridiculous looking sails. He struggled not to laugh when a sudden gust of wing carried the smell of urine and faecal matter soaked britches marinated in the soup of unwashed bodies. His alabaster face took on a green hue and he promptly vomited all over the flagstones. It was mostly alcohol and stomach acid as he hadn’t eaten since he gorged himself on a fine lunch the day before. He staggered forward a little and his knees promptly folded sending him flat on his back, narrowly avoiding his vomit. He struggled to get up and helt his hand in something wet and warm but rapidly cooling and he gagged again, it was the contents of his voided stomach. He got to his feet again and saw the ship was far closer than it was previously and he could make out more of the features. He lifted his hat and bowed toward it, losing his balance and falling forward this time, away from his disgusting mishap.
CharlotteCarrendar: – In the Wretched Wagon, it was a fairly subdued night, the odd game of cards, and lazy wenches, hanging themselves over sleepy pirates and traders. Even the Publican, Sam was looking like he was about to fall asleep at the bar, still wiping it down. Just then a young ragamuffin/street urchin, came into the Inn, and shouted. “A ship be coming…with, the strangest sails you ever seen. Come on! You have to see this.”- The crowd in the Inn all filed outside, to gaze down to the inlet, where the disguised Devil’s Mystery was coming up alongside the other ships. Even on the other ships, their crews were all turning green from the disgusting scent of the trouser sails. “Cor..blimey, what is that stink?”- The Captain stood proudly at the helm, and nodded to his crew, who were all still shitting themselves, over Rachael’s proclamation of what could happen, if they continued to get in her skirts as it were. Even the happy fappy pirate, was now white as a ghost and limp, like those cut bangers. Mary, the publican’s wife, ran out of the Inn and lifted her nose to the air. “I know that scent.” And she then spied the Captain’s pants up the mast. “Oooo it’s my lucky day.” <3>
LadyBelz: The ship docked and the ropes were secured. Rachael was the first one down the gangplank as she took in the sights and sounds of her home country. Some of the men on the dock either bowed or tipped their hats to her and she nodded in kind as she waited for the Captain to join her. She wondered if he had gone to retrieve a new pair of pants.
FireStar32005: Lizzie lay there lazily having taken a good nap for an hour or two. A foul stench filled her nostrils causing her to cringe. Looking to the window she peered out to see another ship or two docked. Realizing it was time to get up she fancied herself, adjusting her hair a bit and tying up her corset once more. Looking to the fat corpse on the floor she giggles some to herself, picks up the coin purse that was far too light for her liking, and the jacket he left behind. It stunk of ale and urine and his stench. But she’d have to wash it later. Making her way out of the room with his jacket under her arm as she throws her shawl back over her shoulders she closes the door behind her and hurries down the stairs. She managed to sleep for a few hours, which was more than what she needed for now. Making her way toward the bar she offers Sam a playful wink. “An’ how about another drink fer me deary?” she asks him with a purring lilt to her voice. She soon watched the crowd of the tavern run out onto the cobble streets. Wanting to see the commotion however she turned from the bar and went to the door as everyone else had done and stepped out. “Oy…” she smirks crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe of the tavern. Checking her freshly taken soggy coin purse she sees barely more than three silver pieces. She inwardly was wiping the stink of him off her. “Bastard…” she hissed under her breath. “that be barely enough t’ get me a proper pair o’ boots.” she snarled. She would have to keep working. Seeing abandoned bottles and tankards of rum she steps over to a table and takes a long hard swig of rum.-
CharlotteCarrendar: – And the Captain did duck down into his quarters, and fetch another pair of pants, while the crew was tying the boat to its moorings. Harold the Parrot chuckled and squawked, while he got dressed again, hopping around on one foot, till he righted himself and then marched back out to the deck and down the gang plank to meet up with the lovely Rachael. Other crews were watching the ship be moored, and The Captain leant over to his consort and whispered. “Right, we ere now. You see your Ma, buy some smelling salts and sugar, then…we head back out to sea. Right, right.”<3>
ZymoticFury: The wharf master surrounded by wharf guards walked up to the ship. He had a book in his hand and a coin purse around his belt, filled with coin but only half full. He looked to the woman, silently cursing under his breath, muttering something about bad luck. “Where be yer captain?! I have ter register yer ship in the logs if yer to port here and harbour fees to discuss!”~~ Edward watched as the crowd gathered about him looking at the ship too. It was rare for such a ship to gather such a crowd but one had to understand why a ship would smell so bad and why they used britches as sails. One would have assumes sails would have been better at catching the wind as that were what they were designed to do. Needless to say it bemused him. He glanced over and saw another ship leaving port and, aiming as best he could with one eye, lobbed the bottle at the ship in a mock sending off, aware it was only women who were to do such tasks. The bottle smashed through the rear windows and he heard the captain scream like a girl and he laughed, quickly looking the other way as if nothing happened. “It wasn’t me, I be too busy watching the smelly shit– I mean ship!”
LadyBelz: “Right, we ere now. You see your Ma, buy some smelling salts and sugar, then…we head back out to sea. Right, right.” Moon whispered in her ear. The wharf master stopped them and she left the Captain to deal with him. Taking a deep breath, she stopped one of the gentlemen passing buy. “Might ye…I mean…Would you tell me where I can find Lord and Lady Thorne, please?” she amended, trying her hardest to remember The Queen’s English. “If you mean Governor Thorne, his manse is just at the top of the hill.” The man replied, pointing to his left. Rachael looked toward the horizon to see the sparkling white mansion on the hill. She seethed. “Thank you, gentle sir.” she nodded. He tipped his hat and continued on his way. Gathering her nerve, she headed up the street.
CharlotteCarrendar: – It all happened so fast, and in the blink of an eye. One minute, he was talking to the lovely Rachael, of how this was going to be a quickie visit, the next, she is off. “OI!” –he cried out, only to have the Wharf Master appear, with his guards. Where be yer captain?! I have ter register yer ship in the logs if yer to port here and harbour fees to discuss!” Fees? FEES? Bleeding heck, he forgot about that. Just then the well to do Publican’s wife appeared and she was positively glowing to see her lost love, Captain Moon in all his glory on the wharf. “YOoo HOoo! James….remembers me, Mary?” The Captain turned and near turned green, seeing the one night stand he had in Port Royale so many years ago. “You again?” The Captain said indignantly. “Again? I haven’t seen you for fifteen yurs.” The Captain grimaced and muttered. “Aye, and it shows.” But then Mary came at him, for a kiss. “MMMMWWWAAAAHHH!!” Now as he was flailing about, he did manage to feel a coin purse on her back, and in the midst of the kiss, he took it from her, then twirled her round and booted her over the side of the wharf ~KERSPLASH!~ “Right…Fees.” The Captain then handed the purse of gold pieces to the Wharf Master, and strode off down the wharf, as the Publican’s wife screamed for help below. <3>
LadyBelz: Reaching the doors of the opulent manor house, Rachael rang the bell and waited. She took a moment to glance around the the grounds, marvelling at its opulence. The door opened and a man, who she assumed was the butler, stared down at her. “Yes?” he stated in a bored tone. “Might I speak to the Governor, please?” It nearly choked her to say that. “And might I inquire as to who is calling upon him? He’s a very busy man and doesn’t have time for…” and here he eyed her from head to toe as if she were dirt on his shoes. “…carnal pursuits.” Rachael held on to her temper, but it was a very near thing. “Tell him his step-daughter has come to pay him a visit.” she stated with gritted teeth.
FireStar32005: During the distraction, Diry Lizzie wasted no time downing another tankard of rum. Smirking some she finds silver and copper pieces on one table. A gambling match from the looks of it. Wasting no time she takes a few coins from it, not too many but enough to satisfy her and it would be unknown to those playing, or so she hoped. She made her way to another table, humming gently as she took a few more coins. The more she could steal, the better off she’d be. She already had over a dozen men that met her blade, and some of them were not very friendly to her. Catching a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the window she gingerly touches her face. The scratches would scar over, but the bruises were already beginning to fade. Putting on a happy face, after all she still had all her pretty white teeth, she managed to make her way out of the tavern unnoticed, wearing her new found jacket and keeping the coin purses and other coins she had stolen in the bust of her corset. Stepping out along the freebooters she slips away making her way a bit closer to the water keeping to herself. The jacket smelled of something terrible but it kept the chill at bay for now. Keeping the jacket open to show off her luscious breasts popping up from the now, tightly tied corset she walked as smoothly as she could with her broken boot.-
ZymoticFury: The wharf master grinned like a wolf spotting a rabbit at the coin purse. Money was his weakness; he craved it in every form. He looked to the captain. “So, What be yer name? what eb yer ships name? and what be yer first mate and quartermaster’s name?” He looked down into this book, ready to fill in the names as soon as they were revealed. “Oh and please be aware, yer ships name be subject to a search to make sure there be no pirating…” He halted and leaned in closer, speaking in barely above a whisper. “For a few more silver, we can skip all that… Captain cook, first mate Blythe and first mate Staples aboard the…” He looked over the ship. “The dragonfly?”~~ Edward could see the Wharf master putting his patter into action, it was convincing and he almost did it himself for his ship but he wasn’t well enough known in these waters for it to be a necessary expense so he went with the truth. While this place was almost the den on iniquity, it did have a few rules. He seemed to sober up a little bit and stroll toward the pantsless captain extending a hand. “Th’ names Foster, nice to meet yer.” He kept this brilliant blue eye focused on the captain of this ship and couldn’t resist commenting. “Innovative use of britches, did someone burn your sails? I hear ‘Pirates’ are swarming this area.” His eye flashed as he put emphasis on the word pirate.
CharlotteCarrendar: – The Captain took out his eyeglass, raising it, to see if he could see the silks of his lovely Rachael’s skirts, as she took off up the hill. “Woman is like a bleeding hare. I’m not going mountain climbing to visit some daft old tart who is ‘avin her knitters circle and rums anonymous luncheon. I’m a bloody Pirate…I’m.” Just then, his commentary was interrupted by : Th’ names Foster, nice to meet yer.” The Captain saw the offered hand and grimaced before wiping his hand on his trousers and then shaking it abruptly. “I…am Captain…*one of the crew ambled past and chortled “Pussywhipped, that Captain be…I tell ya, she is going to take a meat cleaver to his sausage.” The Captain froze and then continued on from what he was saying. “Yes, Captain Pussywhipped..James. Pussywhipped.” That got the introductions out of the way, but now to explain the sails. “Err..bad, storm. Ripped the sails to shreds and…and…the crew was KIND enough to lend their pants.” Another group of the crew came past, and scoffed. “We was going to be losing our willies if we didn’t, Cap.” The Captain then gave the chap a sheepish grin. “So hard to find a good …crew nowdays. Fancy a rum at the Wretched?”<3>
FireStar32005: “‘Ello deary…” she purred to the mates walking about, making sure to not move too far from the Wretched Wagon. “Fancy some comp’ny this evenin?” she asked smiling sweetly, her dark green hues taking in the freebooters and the scallywags. Surely at least one wanted a poke from their long voyage gallivanting and ravaging ports and ships alike. “Oy, Dirty Liz…” one freebooter went up to her. “Fancy warmin’ me up for the night?” he asked smiling with the few teeth he had left. His face gritty and slimy from his travels. “Ye owe me a silver piece.” she said with a coy smile backing away from him. “An’ I don’t like the way ye play..” she said carefully. He was penniless so not her type of freebooter. She was thinking of going for a stationed sailor. They were quicker to come to her, and were not born killers like these lot. She started to walk away from him, but he grabbed her roughly by her arm. “Where ye get the coat lass?” he asked his voice low and husky. “It look to be a man’s jacket that… ain’t it?” She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “Get ye hands off me swine… or I’ll be turnin’ ye ugly noodle int’a pretty pink slit.” she growled. “Ye bitch I might do ye like the other night…” This one was a piece of work, and fought dirty. “Let go of me.” she snarled.
LadyBelz: Startled to hear that she was a relation, he stepped aside to allow her entrance. He asked her to wait in the main hall as he went to announce her. It was a few minutes later that a voice she hadn’t heard in a long time washed over her. “So the prodigal daughter returns home at last.” She turned to see the man she’d come to see, walking down the stairs. He was dressed in elegant clothing and his hair was combed and trimmed. He looked very distinguished. “I’ve see ye’ve moved up in the world, Beckett.” she stated, calling the man by his first name, remembering how it irritated him. “I thought I told you to call me Father?” he scowled, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “Yer not me father, ye right bastard.” she scowled. His hand flashed out, stopping inches from striking her jaw. He chuckled, an ugly sound. “Never could beat it out of you, could I?” he said. He moved toward his office, sitting behind the desk. “So…where have you been all these years?” he wondered, indicating that she could sit. “Here and there.” she stated, refusing his offer. “You’ve turned into quite the beauty. I imagine you’re doing what I thought you should do when you were younger.” She scowled at the reference. “If ye be meaning that I whored myself out, then ye be wrong.” she snapped. He looked at her eye patch. “You’re looking a bit like a pirate, there, lass. I hope to God you haven’t taken up with those pillaging bastards.” It was stated casually, but she could sense the threat behind the words. “So what if I have?” she growled. “Pirating is against the law in Port Royale. It’s an instant death sentence.” he smirked. “Where’s my mother?” she demanded, dropping all pretense of niceties. “Oh…dearest daughter…I’m so sorry…your mother, my wife…died about 5 years ago. It was the strangest accident, her falling down the stairs and breaking her neck like she did. I’m sorry you weren’t here to attend her services.” he smirked. Screaming with rage, she yanked her dagger from beneath her bodice and threw it at him. He ducked, but not fast enough. The blade scored across his cheek and nicked his ear, drawing blood. He stood angrily, knocking back his chair. “You bitch! You will pay for that! Guards!” he shouted. The echos of footsteps sounded throughout the manor and the door burst open to reveal a contingent of Red Coats. Rachael drew her pistol and the sharp retort of gunfire echoed through the open windows and down toward the wharf. People paused in their daily musings to glance up toward the manse. Meanwhile, Rachael had grabbed a sword from the wall and was in a fierce battle with two of the Red Coats. She spun away from a thrust from one and parried the attack from the other. She glanced up, seeing the chandelier above her head and leapt for it. She swung over the heads of the men and into the hall, landing as surefooted as a cat. She quickly turned and closed the door, shoving the large candle holder through the handles as the men beat on it from the other side. Taking up her pistol and keeping a firm grip on the sword, she dashed out the door and toward the docks. “He’ll be taking strips out me hide when he hears of this.” she muttered as she dodged musket fire from behind her…
ZymoticFury: The Wharfmaster scribbled in his book and tucked the money away, hobbling off toward the offices.~~ Edward looked the captain hard in the eye. “I’m surprised yer still alive! a storm that bad would’ve ripped your ship righ’ outta teh drink! Lesser storms have sunk the armada!” He did his best to look sincere but it was obvious he wasn’t buying the story at all and he was being really sarcastic. “The drinks be on me, ye look as if ye need a few coin, not spend it.” Fortunately he had a tab open with the bar and one rule with wealth, in order to keep it, never spend it. He was planning of unmooring his ship in the dead of night and steeling away into the night ready to transport the cane that was loaded today up north. “So where be yer home port?” He was distracted momentarily by a kerfuffle nearby, a man seemed to be wanting to theif from a harlot, that or kill her. Without hesitating, he levelled his pistol and unloaded an impeccably accurate round of shot into the man’s head. “Anyone else wan’ ter feel me wrath?!” He turned away from the captain and walked toward the wench, taking her by the arm but not harshly like the other man, more protectively. He understood that it was more than likely, she didn’t chose to be a wench and that circumstances forced and needs must. “Warm my lap tonigh’, you know I have the coin”
FireStar32005: -Blinking some from the blood and brain splatter that washed over her she gasped some and backed away as the man fell with a hard sickening thump. She was a bit shaken from ruffing up, and could feel the bruises forming on her arm. She would have killed him. But he knew her good and well, and was hard to overcome. He played dirty and knew her job well enough to know how she worked. Hearing footsteps coming near and feeling a protective hand on her she looked up to the one eyed gentleman. “Warm me lap tonigh’ ye know I have the coin” she heard him say. looking up at him, she admired his gunmanship and her dark green hues looked up at him. “Aye sir, I be makin’ yer dreams come true.” she said with a smile though she was still clearly shaken. She had no intention of charging this one, or killing him for that matter. She owed him that much. And she owed him a proper taste of her skill, after all she was one of the few clean wenches in this port, and she was damn proud of it. “Lead the way deary, I’ll follow ye.”
CharlotteCarrendar: – As Captain “Pussywhipped” walked along the wharf with Foster, the two gents, started a conversation, not knowing that up the hill, Rachael was getting herself into a spot of bother. “So where be yer home port?” Good question and the Captain answered without hesistation. “Portsmouth…I uhm…started my days as a cabin boy there. Served the Great Long Tong Tan from…err..Those Asian countries. Couldn’t understand a bleeding word he said. But my gods, could he do amazing things with cooked rat.” But further up, as the crew of the “Devil’s Mystery were getting to know the local wenches, and filling up on Ale, there would be a series of shots fired, high up at the Swanky to do mansion on the hill. Captain Moon took out his eyeglass and raised it up to where the flash of the gun fire blasts were coming from, and sure enough…”ARRRRGH…damn confounded. WOMAN! In trouble with the Red coats and I not had a rum to my lips or a wench on my hips. MEN…back to the ship….NOW!” Drawing out his cutlass, he ran up the mountain path, as the pirates all made a mad dash for the ship, to get it free from its moorings, and clear the hell out of Port Royale. But seeing as he got closer to her, that she was in real danger, and trying to run in that damn sexy dress of hers, he sheathed his cutlass and reached for her waist, hoisting her up and over his shoulder, much like she was a side of beef. “Don’t you let go!” He bellowed and turned back around, her skirts whirling, so she could shoot from behind, as he ran back down the hill. This was probably the most romantic thing, he had ever done in his life. <3>
ZymoticFury: He grinned at her, her manner seemed so practiced, like she had said the same to a thousand men but it didn’t bother him, far from it. He would rather have a woman who knew what the fuck to do with his nice meaty cock than a timid virgin who tiptoed around it, getting him nowhere but soft. He grinned and took her back into the inn. He had a room which was very close to her own, the only reason he had used the hammock was because he favoured the briney breeze of stale sex, booze and tobacco. On his way up the stairs, he tossed a nice gold coin to the barkeep. “I have an agreement with the captain Pussy whipped of the ship that just moored…” He looked out the window and saw that the ship was being boarded and he sighed, looking back at the barkeep. “Never mind Joe.” He continued up the stairs, passing her room which was only just starting to smell of corpse and entering his own. The horrible straw stuffed mattress crunching under his weight and he sat on the bed. “So, about make my dreams come true were ye?” He grinned, thinking of something smart-arsed to say. “Well lass, I hope ye have a treasure chest full o’ jewels under that there skirt o’ yours.”
LadyBelz: Running down one of the back alleys, dodging gunfire, she needed to find the Captain and avoid capture at all costs. She also wondered what Moon would do to her when he found out about this latest fiasco. She struggled through her anguish at her mother’s death, making a vow to herself that she would kill the bastard who murdered her, for there was no doubt in her mind that Thorne murdered her only remaining family. She glanced back over her shoulder. She had gotten a bit of a head start but they were still too close for comfort. Something shattered to her right and she dodged left, feeling a searing pain along her right hip. She took a quick look, seeing blood seeping through her dress, ruining the material. Cursing a blue streak, she pressed a hand to her bleeding side. She was so busy running for her life, she didn’t see the Captain stepping into her path until he hauled her over his shoulder. “Don’t you let go!” He bellowed at her as he ran for the ship, her skirts whirling. Hissing as her wounded hip pressed against his shoulder, she aimed her pistol at a barrel of gunpowder and fired. The explosion rocked the street, knocking a few of the Reds into the windows and walls of nearby shops. Thankfully no locals were injured. She became dizzy with blood loss as the Captain ran up the gangplank. She was set down as the Captain began shouting orders. She tried calling out to him but the dizziness became too much and she passed out.
CharlotteCarrendar: – The Captain’s enormous boots thundered up the gang plank as the crew were working double time to get the ropes untied so the ship could leave port. The sheer whistle of the Red Coats, calling the other guards stationed around the Port, could be heard loud and clear, as well as the Pirate Bell, to alert to all the citizens of Port Royale that the heathens were in the town. The Captain changed his hold on the lovely Rachael, and carried her now close to his chest, well aware from the soaking of his hand, she had been shot. Cabin boy Tim ran up and opened the doors to the Captain’s quarters, as the Boatswain barked orders to the crew. The unfurling of the large sails, with the mark of the skull and cross bones unfurled, as the guards ran up the wharf, carrying their muskets. “MORE SAIL!” Cried the Lieutenant, as the last of the ropes was released and the Devil’s Mystery started to pull out, but not before the muskets started firing at the ship and its crew, one crew member on the main sail being hit, and falling dead onto the deck. In the Captain’s quarters, James had laid Rachael down on his silken bedding, while the ship’s doctor raced in and started to tear back the dress, to find the wound. “Capn’….she been shot bad. You might want to go see to getting this ship out of the inlet, and let me tend to her.” – Never a truer word spoken, the Captain was needed topside, but there laid his true and only love, Rachael. “You..you call me, if she needs anything…savvy?”- The doctor nodded and set to work, while Cabin boy Tim held a lantern, so the Doc could see. Powering out of the Captain’s quarters and up onto the deck, he snarled at the Guards on the wharf, still firing those wretched firearms, and went to one of the cannons, that had already been loaded with a cannon ball. Lining the cannon up, and aiming it at the tall mast of the Royal Frigate, he lit the fuse, and the explosion rocked the ship as the cannon ball hurtled through the air, striking the main sail and bringing down the entire mast crashing onto the deck and taking out a good few guards. Not only did this disable the frigate from giving chase, it stamped the hallmark signature of Captain Moon. “When the Moon is on the rise..there be blood in the waters.” Still flailing about , the Publican’s wife was waving as the ship departed. “I BE RIGHT HERE WAITING!” A shark’s fin cruised past her, and she madly started to paddle for the shore. <3>
FireStar32005: -Smiling more she looks around the much cleaner room than the one she had been in just before. Watching him sit on the bed she slowly removes the stinking jacket and her shawl to reveal her bare shoulders, and the now bruising arms. She felt a mild sense of embarrassment from the bruises, he was a handsome lad to her, no doubt, even with the eye patch. Slowly her hands brush down her full ample breasts catching her fingers into the corset in order to lower it, allowing them to pop up from being restricted for so long. She smiles stepping closer as her hands travel to the ties of her corset. Loosening them the corset almost immediately falls to the floor, to reveal her surprisingly clean, slender and luscious figure. Stepping even closer she raises one booted foot up, lifting her crimson skirts up a bit and unties her boots. “Ye prize will last as long as ye like…” she purrs leaning closer to him removing her boots she slowly lowers her skirts to reveal the rest of her slender figure, her shape sweet as an hourglass. Her hands brush over her bruised skin, not bothering to hide the burning bush between her thighs. Straddling his thighs she rests her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them tenderly with her fingertips and moves them down his frame.
ZymoticFury: He reached up, taking his hat from his head revealing his greasy hair; he ran a hand through it and took his eye patch away from his eye revealing a perfectly sapphire eye which matched the one that was visible. He winced with it though as it was very sensitive to light. “Me eyes be fine, having one covered up means I can aim me pistol a lot easier as I can line up me sights quicker and if I need te spy with me spyglass, I can see a lot better in the dark.” He smiled as his eye slowly got used to the light. He pulled his coat and shirt from his torso revealing red knotted scars across his alabaster skin. They were obviously a few months old but they looked somewhat painful. He ignored them as she sat on his lap. She seemed almost self conscious of her marks but it didn’t faze him. He lifted a calloused hand and ran it over her surprisingly smooth skin. She was oh so soft. He looked up into her green eyes with a lazy smirk across his lips. “As long as I’d like, eh? Wow, fer most wenches that be off the menu so to speak.” He kissed her neck, tasting the man’s coat on her skin but not caring, he had tasted far worse. He marvelled for a moment at her naked form and laid her down on the bed, kicking off the rest of his clothes in one or two fluid motions and joining her on the straw mattress, his rigging at half mast.
ZymoticFury: He grinned at her as her hand wrapped around his crankshaft and began to raise the rigging to full mast. He lined up the ship to the harbour and in one fluid motion docked, the waters causing the ship to rock to and fro, the wind picking up slightly, a storm looked to be passing and it was going to rock the port hard.
FireStar32005: She felt as if she were drowning in the sea of this passion filling her and the mast clashing against rocking dock. The perfect storm as the dock lifted to and fro, siren’s claws digging into flesh and sing with the rising tide. The ship crashed into the port, the waves rising violently as the perfect tsunami wrecks over the ship pushing it out of the harbor with a violent thrust. Drowning in ecstasy she grips him still with siren talons, cooing sweet nothings in panted breaths to drive him back to her once more-
ZymoticFury: The storm rocked the ship so hard the mooring rope broke and he was forcefully expelled prematurely from the harbour. The ship hands grabbed the crankshaft in order to keep the rigging at full mast, they worked furiously as a ship hand knocked the candlestick, sending it skidding gown the ship and launching 5 of the cannon balls toward the port, 2 hitting the dairy farm, one hitting a restaurant and two hitting the fishery. The sea levelled out and began to calm, the Mast slowly being taken down as the ship hands rowed boats to shore to apologise for the damage.
