Dorian Lasseter

An assortment...

More axes...

A nice poleaxe with a hook...

Hmmm... Nasty, pointed teeth... Death comes to ye by way o' someone wi' bad teeth? I always thought it'd be by sword, gun, r' th' noose...

Dorian slowly nodded. He smiled grimly. He picked up his freshly filled glass and offered it up to the Spanish captain and his officers. “To Cap’n Voulet… An masterful tactician…” He drank the toast and replaced his glass on the table before anyone else moved. When he looked up from his glass to all faces turned to him. He merely nodded again and let the silence continue.

As glasses were refilled yet again, Captain Lasseter wondered aloud something that had bothered him. “Odd that th’ English who attacked you wi’ superior numbers gave up th’ chase. What might you ‘ave thrown at ‘em ta make ‘em do such? Tis not like ‘em ta shy away from such a prize….” He did not ask it as a challenge, but more of a subtle inquiry, and waited for any who dared to answer it.

As Dorian drank the salute given to Miss Smith, subtle as it was, he watched the expressions on those Spanish about him. They were a mix of curiosity, admiration, and disbelief. He hid the smile that plucked at his lips by swirling the contents of his glass and inhaling the bouquet. He took another sip and set the glass on the table, keeping his expression neutral as more small talk was made. He also made note of the Lieutenant who found renewed interest in Miss Smith still looking her way intently. He also noted Miss Smith warming up her charm, a tool favoured by the fairer sex, and one that he hoped might bare fruit during the rest of the evening aboard the Spanish vessel.

Dorian chuckled but covered it with a cough as he descended into the waiting boat. He arranged his sword as he sat, and noticed Miss Smith eying his blade. “Aye, I thought I’d be gracious to our hosts… And aye, I do know the rapier well…” She nodded with a smile and continued to make small adjustments on her person. Small talk was made on the short trip over to the Spanish ship and soon a voice called out in that tongue, asking who was approaching. Captain Brand called out in English. “Ahoy the Navarra! Capitaine Avendano has invited us from the Watch Dog to dine!” Some more Spanish was spoken on deck in lower volume and another spoke in heavily accented English. “Si, if you are capitaine Brand and guests, we bid you to come aboard, por favour.” “Aye, I am Captain Brand of the Watch Dog, along with Captain Lasseter of the Heron and my Steward!” Acquiescence was given and the longboat bumped against the ship and was steadied. William gave orders to the longboaters to wait, even though he knew it may be a long evening. They all had pistols about them, as ordered. So, they remained in the boat for the moment. Both William and Dorian helped Miss Smith aboard, and watched as those on deck were mildly shocked at the appearance of such a finely dressed woman, identified as the Steward of the Watch Dog. Slightly awkward welcomes were exchanged and accepted. Captain Avendano stood with his Lieutenant beside him, waiting to address the two captains and steward.

The two captains were on deck and the hour grew late. The sky darkened and William spoke of the invitation to dine aboard the Spanish ship. Dorian had dressed for William’s visit to the newly refitted Cutter, so he need not change into finery. The only additions he decided upon were a change of weaponry. He knew the Spanish still carried rapiers, so he decided to compliment them by wearing his. Of course he also wore his sea service pistol, as Captain Brand carried a pistol openly. Dorian had found a set of fine pocket pistols in the town and offered one to William. He graciously turned it down, so Dorian put one in each of his coat pockets. “Not too bad… rather light actually… I do believe I’m ready ta dine… by your leave, shall we?” As they headed out on deck they saw a feminine form climb down into the longboat from the waist of the Watch Dog.

AHhhh.... A real Jeep... I never have owned a CJ, wouldn't mind one for a toy... I have owned several other Real Jeeps... J-Series Jeeps, J-10 Pickups and Grand Wagoneers... Talk about go anywhere and take a licking and keep on ticking... AMC Jeeps.... I wish they were still in business... I also wish chrysler would get their head out of their arse and produce the new Gladiator Jeep Pickup already!!!!

Dorian nodded after a while. He paced the short distance to the stern windows and back. “Aye… Jim would do well… I have no qualms wi’ that…” Again he paced the short distance. “An’ Aye… I had not expected ta relinquish my hold on what I was on th’ Dog… I am still th’ quartermaster there… be hard pressed ta let go o’ some things…” He smiled and nodded, then continued his short pacing, musing on any other additions to the crew, and shifts of responsibilities.

Dorian looked serious for a moment, then slowly smiled at William. “Insult me gerl while in ‘er wardroom… “ He too chuckled, then sighed, which turned into a yawn. He shook it off and again stood. “Aye, a short name, a shortened one actually…. B’fore we leave this port, I plan ta do the change o’ name with all ceremony… should be a fine thing. What say you?”

Dorian smirked. “Trades less threatenin’ aye? Risk is e’erywhere… I’ll take mine on th’ open waters…” He walked to the sideboard and opened the cabinet, reviewed all inside and paused. A slight shake of his head and he shut the doors and turned back to William. “Ah, so be it… to each their own I s’pose…” Dorian took off his hat and placed it on the table. He sat and wiped his brow with a corner of his neckerchief. Again their was silence between the two men. The Captain of the Heron decided to open a different line of conversation. “So… I made a decision on this ‘ere vessel… with ‘er new arms an’ all, she needs a new name…” He waited to see what his brother in arms would say…

Why... Thankee Kindly Mister Flint... I would like ta stretch m'legs...

In the Heron's Wardroom Both men sat a moment and stared into empty glasses, not wish to be refilled. They basked in the knowledge of the richness of the prize now sold. Captain Lasseter looked to the bulkhead and seemed to be whispering to himself. When his eyes came back down, William was giving him an odd look. Dorian smiled. “Just trying ta calculate shares in m’head… Tryin’ ta remember who left our company an’ who be left ta enjoy th’ wealth. Also wonder who might leave us, once they receive their share…” William nodded slowly and looked once again into his glass.

William... On that account, you can speak for me... No wearin' o fancy dresses fer me...

Hmm... A man could grow old watin' fer ye ta step up n' make yer mark...

Sinful enough?

Onboard the Heron Dorian’s jaw had gone slack at the number William had spoken. His eyes opened very wide. A moment later he found his voice. It first came out as a raspy sound. He cleared his throat and began again. “Mary mudder a God… Sixty… Sixty-seven…. Thousand? William… Why tha’s… How… How did th’ Elephant fetch such a price?” William just chuckled and walked past Dorian, past him and into the after section of the Cutter to the wardroom. Dorian followed, still with the question on his lips. Once they were in the confines of the aftercabin, Dorian spoke louder. “Come now, man! I would have expected half that and been happy… Again, you amaze me with a hidden talent… I can imagine you played a fine game a chess with those merchants in wont of such a vessel…” He walked to the table and picked up the bottle he had placed there earlier. Squeaking out the cork, he poured two cups and set the bottle in its place and handed one cup to William and took up the other. “Slainte, William… May we ne’er thirst for anythin’… Whate’er we call our wealth…” Both men drank their cups dry and banged them on the table.

Dorian steadies the inkwell. "Have a care, Lad..." He looks the youth over a moment and puts a hand to his chin. "Have ye a mind fer adventure? If so... Find yer way here; http://www.the-watchdog.com/Chat Cap'n Brand n' I would have words with ye..." He sits back and sees what may come next...

Michael, That, is a grande lookin' hilt there... most excellent... I think, but could be wrong, the 'Hanger or Banger' means is it a wall hanger - or a non-combat piece... just a pretty. Or, is it something that will see action - get banged around... Sound ta me like the latter...

Excellent......... I'll wait a bit longer for more of you...

Aboard the Heron Dorian had done all he could think of in preparation of Captain Brands’ visit to his little ship. As he stopped to survey the wardroom, he heard someone giving orders of a sort. Dorian furrowed his brow and set about heading on deck. As he opened the hatch he heard the familiar voice of Mister Flint. He did not exit into the sunlight, but instead watched from his slightly hidden place. Mister Flint had taken it upon himself to further the instruction of hand to hand combat to the Heron’s marines, and other crew. Dorian noted he favored the knife and axe, leaving the cutlass on the wayside. He nodded as he watched the instruction, noted the closeness if the attacks. Yes, Flint’s technique was well suited to shipboard combat. Captain Lasseter made a mental note to seek out Mister Flint later, so that he might learn some of this form himself. It also reminded him that he would need to drill the men with cutlass as well. He thought of all the different kinds of combat one would see on a vessel such as the Watch Dog and Heron; Broadsides from great guns and swivels, volleys of muskets, close range with pistols, clashing of cutlass and ha’pike, and finally this style of the Marine named Flint. He watched a moment longer and returned to the Wardroom and his quarters. He noticed the one bulkhead was quite bare and in need of something. A painting mayhaps? Or a display of arms…

Got many favourites.... here be two.... Morgan's Rum and Walt Disney...

After two hours of running the crew through gun drills, Dorian was satisfied. All learned a lot about how the new armament differed from the old. Some of the new crew learned from scratch. Captain Brand had returned from shore and was to come aboard the Heron soon as well. “A’right you lads… well done, well done… secure th’ guns fer now, put all o’ them fully depressed, tampions out. Take yer ease an drink th’ water barrel dry. Then… yer ration o’ spirits…” The crew gave a cheer, all but one who was unable to, but Adam grinned a toothy grin in response. Dorian had stripped to his shirtsleeves again during the drilling, even jumping in to show how he wanted something to be done. Again he gave the deck over to Mister Tucker and headed below. There in the wardroom of the Heron he drank his fill of water and stripped to the waist. He used more fresh water to bathe, then put on a fresh shirt before donning his outer garments and arms. As an afterthought he looked in a mirror and decided to redo his que as it had come part way undone. Once restored he put on his hat, completing his captain’s outfit. Nodding to his reflection, he went about the cabin straightening it up and setting out refreshments for when William came aboard.