Dorian Lasseter
-
Posts
3,266 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Content Type
Profiles
Forums
Events
Gallery
Posts posted by Dorian Lasseter
-
-
Dorian that is wonderful..Since there is no image on their site is a price listed or should i ask?
It's the same as the wool sleeved waistcoat with metal buttons...
-
How to describe it...
It s a split sleeve, no buttons...
And folded back into a cuff...
Almost dog-eared.
Based on the one Hogarth painting with the fellow tied into a chair being carried off, in front of him is a sailor with a peg leg, the jacket he's wearing... and other images from other paintings...
-
Just got back last night from Fort Niagara (F&I event)
And found a grande sailors jacket... it is based on paintings by Hogarth among others, the folks that made it did the original clothes for POTC 1-3...
BUT, they are serious historically correct, before hollywierd got them...
Here's their website;
www.barkertownsutlers.com
No image on their site of it, but it's perfect. Looks like it's fitted because of the belt with my bellybox on it.
Made in a linen blend or wool, mine is wool...
-
hehehehe.. goode ol' Benny Franklin....
"Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch.
Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote."
B. Franklin
-
Dorian dreamed of things long past. Time on the deck of another ship, in a far away sea. His dream was interrupted by protestations from his belly, due to the scent of food finding its way to his nose. He opened his eyes slowly, remembering now where he was. He sat up and stretched his back, arms up over his head. He stopped in mid stretch to see William standing, looking his way.
“Mornin’ cap’n… What news?”
He lowered his arms and stood, shaking off as much sleep as he could. He brushed his coat, trying to smooth out any wrinkles and removed his hat as he noticed the women folk were up and attending to things around the business and residence of Miss O’Treasaigh. William smiled slightly and nodded towards Mister PEW. He lay quietly, breathing deeper than he had been the night before but still not on a lucid state. Dorian looked back to William and nodded in understanding. Again his stomach protested. Looking about more, he noticed Claude was no longer snoring away and he realized he had no idea of the time. He stifled a yawn and gave a slight shudder. With a smile he pardoned himself from the company and headed outside, around the corner and to the back areas of the buildings to find the privy. After relieving the call of nature he returned to the front of the Surgeon’s office and home where he waited out in the morning sun for a time. Not long after he saw Mister Marchande heading up the lane, laden with a large sack and a covered pail. As he approached Dorian greeted him warmly and he offered to help the man with his burden. He took the pail, full of hot coffee and held open the door for the Frenchman. The smell of fresh bread and sweet rolls mingled with that of bacon and biscuits as the two aromas met in the doorway.
-
Onboard the Heron
The crew had worked all night setting the new guns, rigging the new lines and cables and all around stowing and setting up the supplies that had been delivered to their ship. All were weary as first light appeared and Nigel let everyone have their rest. Only O’Hara, Godfrey, and he remained awake. As the light strengthened it reflected off the shiny brass six pounders, almost blindingly so. The three of them smiled at each other and Mister Brisbane chuckled a little.
“Wait til th’ Captain sees all this… “
The other two answered with a proud ‘aye’ and nodded. They looked about the deck of their proud little ship and out into the bay around them. Young Patrick let his mind wander, thinking about what it would be like in battle with this nimble ship under his feet and the more powerful guns thundering. Even though they were rather small compared to those on the Watch Dog, they were still powerful enough to thrill the young man. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the question asked him by Mister Brisbane. Patrick O’Hara elbowed Godfrey and brought him back to the present, where Nigel was looking at him with slight annoyance. He grinned sheepishly and ducked his head.
“Er… pardon me sir, I was… er what did ye want sir?”
The Coxswain shook his head slightly.
“I was gonna have ye head up inta th’ riggin’ as lookout, but if yer gonna daydream, best have ye stay on deck. Mister O’Hara, yer on lookout duty.”
“Aye-aye Sah!”
O’Hara went and found the ships spyglass and lithely jumped into the shrouds, quickly taking position at the lookout’s vantage point.
Thursday, 31 July 1704*
*Gregorian calendar, as opposed to the Julian, making it Monday
-
Heave!
-
The hour grew early and the conversations grew short. Soon Mister Franklin had joined Mister Marchande in sleep, though not so noisily. William and Dorian spoke of the ships a bit longer, debating what they would do in as much as the reorganization of officers, and additions to the same. As the fashion dictated, the crew would have a hand in the appointments of new officers, it was not just a hard fast ‘laying of the law’, brought down by the captains. While casting a still worried look upon Mister Pew, Dorian voiced a thought to make him his QuarterMaster aboard the Heron when, not if, he recovered. He also voiced that the men that had been assigned to the Heron remain with her, with an addition of men they might receive from the jailer to make up for gaps in the work force. Questions were asked between the men, just to find where each sat in regards to who would make the best Master-at-Arms on each ship to who would replace Dorian as the QuarterMaster of the Watch Dog. Sleep deprivation and no lack of sprits consumed finally took their toll on Captain Lasseter, so he bid William a break in the conversation until some rest was to be obtained. William nodded and stifled a yawn, knowing he to was near exhaustion as well. Both men settled into their chairs as comfortably as possible and soon their breathing matched those in slumber around them.
-
Hehehehehe...
Can't say I can add more to BlackJohn's discription of how the duel went. It was grande fun indeed! The Dueling, not the skewering...
Between John, Billy and Jim(?), I had a couple bruises as trophys for a bit and can't wait to get more! Although, mayhaps a bit of modern armour needs to be added to our fencing kit. A cup at the very least... Juuuuust in case...
-
Captain Brand, Lasseter and Mister Franklin talked into the wee hours while Claude Marchande snored lightly. Mister PEW occasionally stirred, which caused many a break in the conversation. When he settled, after a moment longer they would return to their talking, just to keep their minds off what may be. So much had transpired since they made port that it was hard to believe how short a time they had actually been here. Dorian eventually spoke of the averted incident in the tavern with the Tailor, Carpenter, and Mr. Bly. William looked thoughtful for a time, nodded once and filed the information in his head for future reference. It was discovered that neither captain had been to their ships in some time, and both wondered aloud how thing fared aboard each vessel. Neither were worried however, knowing that those left in charge would continue to follow the last orders given.
-
Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0
You scored as a Captain Jack Sparrow
Roguish,quick-witted, and incredibly lucky, Jack Sparrow is a pirate who sometimes ends up being a hero, against his better judgement. Captain Jack looks out for #1, but he can be counted on (usually) to do the right thing. He has an incredibly persuasive tongue, a mind that borders on genius or insanity, and an incredible talent for getting into trouble and getting out of it. Maybe its brains, maybe its genius, or maybe its just plain luck. Or maybe a mixture of all three.
Captain Jack Sparrow
79%
El Zorro
71%
Batman, the Dark Knight
67%
Indiana Jones
63%
William Wallace
63%
Lara Croft
50%
Maximus
50%
Neo, the "One"
46%
James Bond, Agent 007
38%
The Terminator
38%
The Amazing Spider-Man
33%
-
Here is a picture from last weekends Northern California Pyrate Festival.....
And he calls me a fancy dan... look at them bright red stockings...just aim for the legs lads, ye can't miss him!
Wot's wrong wi' red stockings?
This was taken on 16 June in St. Mary's City aboard the Dove...
-
Luck was with the two seamen, and the ordinary still had the cook in the kitchen. Eric had a meat pie, and both had small beer. Dorian sat in contemplation while Mister Franklin ate his fill. His mind was on the Master-at-Arms, lying in a fevered state in the surgeons abode. He was so lost in thought that he finished his beer, yet tipped the empty vessel to his lips several times before realizing it was so. The final time an annoyed look crossed his features and he called over a serving girl, ordering more. As he waited for the fresh drink, he looked to Mister Franklin who had stopped eating and was just staring at what was left of his meal.
“Eric… bit of a stupid question, but are ye a’right?”
He looked up at Captain Lasseter with a sullen visage. He heaved a great sigh.
“Sorry sir… ma’ mind’s on Preston… I guess yers be to… He’s in an awful state sir… and… gawd… I don’t want ta think about it…”
Dorian nodded a bit and tapped the table with his middle finger.
“Don’t ye worry lad… Preston’s a strong man… He be right as rain afore ye know it…. Mark my words…”
Although he spoke with conviction, the captain did not truly believe his own words, but he needed to keep someone’s spirits up.
“Now, finish up… we’ll head back fer ta see if Cap’n Brand is about, then we’ll see what may come of things…”
“Aye-aye Sir…..”
-
Inside the rooms of Maeve O’Treasaigh, Surgeon
As the man on the table was made comfortable and a silence fell, voices were heard outside. Miss O’Treasaigh looked at Briar a moment and nodded before heading to the door. Upon opening her door, she saw Captain Lasseter and Mister Franklin turning away. The noise of the door caught their attention and they turned back. She stepped out and closed the door quietly behind her. Maeve smiled and spoke.
“Good evenin’ Cap’n Lasseter, Mister Franklin… “
The two men turned around and smiled. Although they were standing in the street, Dorian took off his hat.
“Good Evenin’ Miss O’Treasaigh… I… might I inquire on ‘ow Preston fares?”
Her Brow creased a moment, then Eric spoke up.
“Mister PEW… Preston…”
Maeve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and she nodded.
“Preston is restin’ now… A dear friend, an Apothocary stopped in and we’re tendin ta his ills… “
“And, what might his ills be, dear lady?”
Inquired the Captain of the Heron. Maeve took a look over her shoulder, back to the closed door behind her.
“Tis the Marsh Fever… He’s restin’ well, but still fever’d… “
The look on Dorian’s face said all she needed. His smile faded slowly into a gave look of concern.
“I….. I see… Ah Hmm… very well… We shall let you return to attending him. I have a room at th’ Chateau Anse… Please send word if anything should happen before I return. Has Cap’n Brand been here?”
She pursed her lips and took in a breath.
“Nay… th’ good Cap’n hasn’t been here as of yet, your men did go looking for ‘im…”
Dorian nodded in answer.
“Very well… We shall return soon, unless it is best ta just wait til morn. Let the man rest wi’out disturbance?”
“Aye Cap’n that may be best… I’ll send for you and Cap’n Brand of course, should anything occur.”
Again Dorian nodded, but this time a smile crossed his face.
“Thank ye kindly Miss O’Treasaigh… Good evening again…”
With a curtsey and bows, they parted. She back inside and the two men turned away. Dorian again looked to Mister Franklin.
“Vittles fer ye lad… and… somethin’ fer me as well…”
Eric nodded sullenly as the began to walk towards the ordinary they passed not long ago, hoping it was still serving food at this late hour…
Just before four bells of the Mid Watch
-
Hmmm.. I have some interesting links on the subject...
http://dohistory.org/on_your_own/toolkit/writing.html
http://www.library.cornell.edu/olinuris/re.../langdicts.html
http://leo.englang.arts.gla.ac.uk/oethesau...utoeonline.html
-
After Dorian had a pull from Mister Franklin’s rum, he stood a moment longer in silence. He looked Eric up and down, trying to determine the seriousness of the situation by the demeanor of the man. Finally he offered the bottle back and spoke.
“We best be headin’ ta Miss O’Treasaigh’s surgery… See where ting’s stand…”
Eric looked at the Captain with a sober expression and only nodded before he turned and they began the journey to the office where their comrade in arms lay. The walk was a silent one, save for others along the way, even at this rather late hour. Occasionally Dorian looked at Mister Franklin to see what external feelings betrayed themselves on his face. Mostly he saw a look of concern and possibly fear, a fear he also shared of the possibility of Preston dying from his sudden illness. As he thought on this, the memory of his recent injuries pressed to the forefront of his mind, causing him to touch the wound on his temple. It was still tender and felt mildly warm, but his fingers came away clean, no blood or other fluid on them. The men continued to walk, slowing occasionally in the darkness, remembering the way to the Young Doctor’s residence and office.
-
As the crewmen spoke to Captain Lasseter, the look on his face fell from a smile to a look of concern. He looked about the room at all the others of the crew and back to his tablemate.
“Miss Ashcombe, forgive me, one of my officers is quite ill, I must away… Please inform the Carpen… Mister Wenge and Miss McDonough that I am needed… I…”
He intended to say more, but it seemed that the word had spread. Other crewmen came over and queried Dorian about Mister PEW, to which he had no answer. He apologized again and placed several coins on the table that more than covered the food and drink. Still wearing the grave look, he attempted a smile and tipped his hat and began to make his way out of the room, heading out into the night. He was followed by several men to whom he turned and sent them back into the ordinary, they would all know more in the morning aboard the ships. He then began making his way to the wharf where he would find a boat to ferry him back to the Watch Dog, where he assumed the Master-at-Arms lay in the surgeons’ care.
-
Captain Lasseter, though having drunk his fill was still sharp. He had witnessed the possibility of a quarrel between shipmates and defused it, if for only a short time. Mister Bly had been reigned in for a time, though he did not let got of what was eating him. Dorian watched this and made calculations in his head, watching The Carpenter and Tailor dance, while Mister Bly watched, his temper rising. Dorian looked at the other person in his company, Miss Ashcombe. He gave a look and silent apology to her, hoping to reassure her that they would not end up in the middle of a bare knuckled brawl, or worse, as each and every sailor from the Watch Dog and Heron was given a pistol before shore leave, and all the marines were armed with musket as well. At one point Nathan shifted his weight as if to stand, the look on his face said he meant to cross the floor and have words, or worse, with the dancing couple. At that moment Dorian stepped close to Nathan, blocking his path.
“You’ll not want ta be doin’ that’ lad… “
Dorian spoke this in a tone of steel on steel close to Mister Bly’s ear. The man nearly jumped away from the Captain as he spoke. His face was slightly ashen, but recovered quickly and he opened his mouth in a snarl, the drink taking away his regard for the chain of command. Before a word escaped his lips Dorian’s hand had shot out and taken the man by the throat. Again he spoke in the sharp tone.
“I warn ye… I know not what you an’ those two have betwixt ye… Either Captain brand or M’self will get ta th’ bottom o’ it soon… There be enough trouble in this port save wot ye might stir up, an’ I’ll be havin’ none of it… Sit yer arse down an’ steady yerself, Or I’ve a mind ta ruin yer evenin’…”
Nathan stood slack-jawed for a moment, then just about fell into the chair he previously occupied, turned his eyes to his tankard and took a deep breath.
“My Apologies Miss Ashecombe… I shall return in a moment…”
Dorian Tipped his hat and put on a fine smile, then walked across the room to the dancing couple.
“Mister Wenge, Miss McDonough… I believe yer havin’ a grande time a-dancin’ an’ a-flirtin’… I would suggest ye remember this time well, and not make such a show next time… if there be a next time… “
He smiled sweetly and tipped his hat and turned to leave, but stopped and addressed them once again.
“One other thing… Iffn’ I hear tell of a brawl in this place or another, and any of ye be involved, no matter who be at fault… it will not go well once back aboard… “
Again he smiled and tipped his hat and made his way back to the table where a brooding Nathan Bly and the young lady sat with their drinks in hand. He placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, picked up his tankard and tapped it against the man’s and said some words, to which the three of them drank. As they did so, some other crewmen from their ship entered in a hurry, scanned the crowd and pointed to Captain Lasseter, making their way to his side.
-
Le Chateau Anse
Captain Lasseter sat and slowly drank the small beer he had ordered, actually glad it was weak, seeing as he had drunk his fill of spirits at the chandlery. He did not need to fill his gut with more. Small talk ran around the table, from how the events of the day had unfolded for them as for the captain. Miss Ashcombe remained mostly silent, only saying she had enjoyed her time with Silkie as she shopped, and Mister Wenge as their escort. The Tailor and Carpenter were both pleased at Dorian’s announcement that the Heron would be re-armed with fine brass guns, larger than those she now defended herself with. Alder put a hand to his chin in thought and was about to ask Dorian a question that he knew pertained to the larger armament.
“Master Wenge, think not of it presen’ly… Aye, the bulwarks’ll need extra shorin’ up fer such guns… not to worry… all will be done by you ‘r other crew… but it’ll wait til our time ashore has ended.”
Alder smiled and nodded, just then the food arrived and was placed around the table. Soon all were immersed in the course of their meals. The men ate heartily and with gusto, while the women took a slightly easier tac with consuming their food. When Dorian was mostly finished with his plate, he sighed and laid down his fork.
“ I have been remiss… take up yer drinks if ye will… A toast… a toast to good health, fine company, and wealthy prizes.”
He held his tankard aloft, and soon it was joined by those vessels held by his crewmates and their companion. All drank is toast with a smile. The others went back to their meals while Dorian sat and took a look about the room, noting the temperament of the rest of the patrons and being satisfied that all was well enough, yet he remained guarded enough that his purse would not be cut.
-
Aboard the Heron.
The crew had all taken time to look at, touch, and make comments about the two brass guns coming aboard the Cutter. Soon after the delivery of the second carriage, The Master Gunner came aboard. He instructed the crew to do as Captain Lasseter had said and they began polishing the swivels while He and Mister Johnson took stock of the iron four pounders of the ship. In an hour’s time Mister Brisbane called their attention to yet another barge making it’s way towards the Heron, with yet another brass gun in it’s hold. Again the boat was given way and bumped alongside, this time a packet of parchment was handed up and much was revealed. Petee damn near laughed his pipe out of his mouth as he read what Captain Lasseter had written. More heavy work was to commence. As each new brass gun was brought aboard, an iron gun would be lowered into the barge in it’s place. All new cables would be made up to secure the new guns as well. Also once the guns were all delivered, shot would be traded out as well. The amount of teeth showing on all the officers’ and crews’ faces was incredible. Not one wore a frown, even with all the work to be done. They would toil into the night until all was set, and the morning sun would shine. It would shine off the new and freshly polished brass great guns of the Heron, showing all around her that she was not to be trifled with.
Four Bells of the Second Dog Watch
-
^^ Been on that trail in Algonquin Park many a time in th' past...
er... umm...
Sound Effect
-
Dorian had walked the streets slowly, being wary of those around him as many passersby noticed him dressed as he was. Many greeted him kindly, to which he returned the greetings, but some cast a measuring glance his way. He stared each of them in the face, causing them to avert their eyes and look elsewhere. After making one wrong turn and being put back on course by a smithy’s helper, he found the Chandlery he was looking for. The warehouse was rather large and open. Piles of used canvas, spars and what not were everywhere, along with some new equipment. The Captain slowly walked through the piles and palates, seeing items of interest in many locations until he was finally approached by one of the many young men employed in the Chandlery. Pleasantries were exchanged, along with some mild tripping over language barriers. Dorian walked about to the different areas and pointed out what he was interested in for fitting out his ship. The young man made some notes on a slate with a stick of lead and jotted down some numbers as well. Questions were asked back and fourth, Dorian finding that it was possible for him to trade the Heron’s 4 pounders in iron and all the shot for them as credit for items he had on his list. His luck was with him today, as he overheard another who he presumed to be a ships officer on a merchant talking to an older man, presumably the Chandler himself, about acquiring some cannon, but nothing so big as he had in his warehouse. The Chandler was making promises to the other captain that he would find cannon for him and not to worry. Dorian filed the conversation in the back of his head to use to his advantage later, once the haggling for prices began. More time was spent finding needed or wanted items until his list was filled to his satisfaction. They walked to the back of the warehouse where a desk and counter were against the back wall, along with a fine table, chairs and glass fronted china closet, which was more of a liquor cabinet then anything else. The young assistant pulled several sheets of parchment from the desk, along with quill and inkwell. Dorian have his name and that of his ship to which the parcels would be delivered. Soon the proprietor made his way back and was introduced and business began in ernest. Drinks were poured and toasts to ones health were drunk. News and gossip was interspersed with the dealings. All was settled before long except for the great guns Captain Lasseter had wanted. Of what six pounders were available in the warehouse, five were from one ship, three from another and four more from a third lot. Dorian was interested in eight brass six pounder guns. He suggested he actually purchase the lot of four and the lot of five, giving him an extra and a reasonable matched type, but since he could not have a full matched set of eight… the price would be less. He got a dark look from the Chandler, but it passed quickly and more deliberations and libations flowed. Once the last glass was drained, the Chandler was silent for a time, the calculations he did in his head were almost visible on his face. Now… now was the time to play his trump. Dorian offhandedly mentioned that in purchasing these great guns, he would be replacing what he had, eight four pounders or iron. The range of expressions that passed over the Chandlers face was extraordinary, and took only an instant. His final expression was a calm one, slowly he made some calculations on the slate and nodded. Yes, he would take the iron guns in trade for the four brass guns, the other five would demand their asking price. Dorian agreed to this after taking time to look at the revised figures. After the deal was struck, the assistant wrote out in detail all that was to be delivered to the Heron. Monies were exchanged, along with a note written by Captain Lasseter to the officers onboard his ship, giving instruction to hand over the iron guns when the brass were delivered, along with full exchange of shot as well. The chandler did not have an abundant supply of six pounder round shot, but it would do for the present. Dorian would have to go elsewhere to procure a full measure. All said and done, the deal sealed with a final round of Cognac, Captain Lasseter left the Chandlery in search of an ordinary, he needed some food to soak up the drink from the dealmakings…
First bell of the First Dog Watch
-
Captain Lasseter had scrubbed himself as clean as he could, taking special note of the wound on his temple. It wasn’t as angry as it had been earlier and he nodded to himself, glad that it remained happily on the mend. He dressed in the clothing he had brought with him, leaving what he had worn into the room laid over the back of a chair. He groomed himself nicely, could use a shave, but no time for that, plus the added roughness might come in handy. He looked at himself, now dressed more like his station than he ever had been. He then laughed at himself…
“Bloody fool… Cap’n’s on’y as good as ‘is crew an’ the ship ye keep…”
Again he nodded to his reflection. He smoothed out the front of his coat and shrugged, took up a small ledger and patted his pocket full of coin and headed for the door. Out he went, locking the door behind him and made his way out into the street, heading in the direction that the Master Gunner had shown him to the Chandler whom he purchased the brass guns in exchange for those of the Apollo.
-
On the Heron
As Mister Brisbane walked the deck as he watched all the small craft in the port, skittering around like water bugs. One of which seemed to be making a line directly for the Cutter. As he paced about he kept an eye on the ever closing vessel. Once it was within a couple cables length, he called the marine on deck to attention, and made sure others were armed. He shielded his eyes from the sun and peered into the fast approaching craft. There was a great gun in gleaming brass in the bottom. His brow furrowed and he took a great breath.
“Halt there! What’s yer business afore ye get closer?”
He was answered in broken English by a man in the stern. Something about delivering a purchase made by a Monsieur ‘Pideeyonblood’.
Nigel’s curiosity got the better of him and he waved the craft closer, while trying to figure out who the man was talking about. The barge came along side and the man in the bow hooked onto the main chains. Nicholas Johnson ambled over to the side and looked down into the boat.
“Awww… thet’s a purdy gun… Peedee, er ah, Master Gunner Youngblood should have a look at thet…”
It then struck Nigel what the man in the boat had said.
“Petee Youngblood…Ah, aye.. I do believe ‘e already has seen this gun. Men! Rig out ta haul cargo aboard!”
He then waved the man in the sternsheets to come aboard, where he had a very energetic and animated conversation with the man, finding out that two guns, with their carriages would be delivered this day to the Heron. Johnson directed the crew in bringing the first barrel aboard, had it laid out on the deck.
“I do believe Cap’n Laseter gonna like this ‘ere gun… Won’er what we’re gonna do with ‘em, where thay’s gonna go. Mebee amidshisps, like th’Sofia an’ ‘is Grace on the “Dog, aye?”
Nigel just smiled and nodded, lightly touching the brass barrel that had been warmed by the sun, thinking how hot it would get during a battle.
You in yar garb.
in Scuttlebutt
Posted
LOL
Both of you....
Actually, on saturday I did some fencing with sabre, and the one fellow was a very good modern fencer... both of us were in shirtsleeves and he whipped the heck out of my right arm. I'm not used to such a flexy weapon, and blocked accordingly, thus, still got hit... Two spots actually are scabbed now, but no real blood flow then.
Don't worry, I will be wearing in the jacket in time.... Already got the sweat, blood and tears to follow... and dirt, mud, other stains... we'll see...