William Brand

Drat. That's no where near me. Oh well. Welcome aboard and enjoy your stay.

Fantastic, quality tents. http://www.redhawk-trading.com/

A very happy birthday, sah. I hope you have a wonderful day. May we assume that you'll take lots of pictures?

More pictures!

Updated. Wow, we have a lot of people attending this year.

So noted and changed.

I can answer that. Stynky is working on a very secure, happy, secure, non-crashing, secure site first and foremost. After that, he plans to make it pretty.

"You there!" It's doesn't feel right.

For the sake of argument, and poetic license, how would one address a female steward aboard a privateering ship? A young, unmarried steward with a mean left hook.

There have been more than a few of the crew about lately, but life has been busy for one and all. I propose a revival of the chats we used to have. Stop by the Ward Room and raise a glass. I mean to frequent the place more often. http://www.the-watchdog.com/Chat/

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog Just after three bells of the First Dog Watch William set aside the quill and stood up. His neck audibly popped, as did his back in two places. He stretched every limb a little and walked about the ward room until his left leg had come back to life. Then he dressed down to his waist and bathed his face and arms. It was warm enough that he was content to watch the open sea, half dressed. His thoughts turned to a churchyard a thousand years ago, and the girl that would live in his memories there until he died. Then he put away the ledgers and ink pot. "Send word for Mister Warren!" he called out the ward room door. Then he dressed himself for dinner and sent word to Lazarus that he should host all of his officers at the Second Dog Watch. He wanted company and conversation. More to the point, he needed it. Larboard Watch on Duty

Last call!

Awww...you guys. Excuse me. I need to cook up some bacon.

The whole family has a good look going for them. Did the lads have a good time?

Hudless watched Preston's approach with no outward sign of concern. He wore the face of a man at work, and honestly felt that he was now beyond the pale. Having done the mischief of three or four men in his lifetime, he had often employed the use of lies and carefully crafted excuses so often that the lies had become a part of his makeup. For himself, he was always right, and believed it to the core. Nigel knew the type. Every ship had a few. Nigel knew that it was not so important to keep an eye on any one of them, but to be wary that such men became friends with any other of the same kind. Separately, a man could be controlled. The smallest of rudders would steer a troublemaker. But let three or more come together in a congress of mischief, then damn the helm.

August 6, 1704 - The Navarra Pessoa had never been close to his cousin Zapatero, but the idea of him here one moment and gone the next unsettled him in too many ways to count. He tried to eat, and managed a little, but the meal was dragged out for a very long time. He felt very mortal in that place filled with too much heat and noise. It became too much all at once. He quit the place and went up to find air and solace. De la Cruz remained below, feeling completely different than the fleeing fellow. The heavy air and company of the shrinking space felt safe to him. It probably wasn't safe at all, but De la Cruz didn't care. Since he could be nowhere else, this was his place of choice. He felt less important on the berth deck and liked the feeling. One of the men chanced to ask him then about the shots from before, spoiling his mood. He simply looked at the man and gave no answer. It was going to be a long night on the Navarra as well.

With so many in accord, I'll consider the flag done and begin preparations for a real one. Tracy has agreed to sew one for PIP, but if a few others need to be made for other events, please let me know. I only wish I could have sent one to my fellow Mercurians for the Hampton Blackbeard festival.

Once things were righted again, Adam made himself available to the Ship's Master, following him topside. He could see Hudless smiling at him across the deck. It was not so much a winning smile, as much as it was an 'I win' smile. Adam gave him a 'You'll pay for that' smile in return. Hudless seemed all the happier for it and the two men made a silent appointment with an unresolved destiny.

Very smart, sah. That's fine kit.

"Aye, sah. I fell, sah." John Black confirmed, but it didn't explain the bleeding lip that would continue to swell over the next hour, nor the black eye that would form that night. Still, John managed his feet after assistance and didn't look too much worse for the 'mishap'. Hudless looked apologetic and falsely meek, and Flint wore an expression over his shoulder that was less than neutral. "No harm done, sah." John said with assurance, for he was an old salt and not given over to pettiness towards his fellows, deserved or not. This did not improve Charlie's mood towards Hudless, but it did raise his estimation of Black.

There was a subtle defiance in the eyes of Stephen's eyes as he turned from Flint, but his face changed at once as his expression was whitewashed by the lie which crossed his lips. "These are close quarters, Sah. We...collided." Despite his inability to speak, Adam's face spoke volumes. Had he not been assisting John, he might have murdered Hudless on the spot, witnesses or not.

Fort by day. Drunken tourists along the Westin and Mallory Square Piers by night. Not everyone is a tourist. I know. I'm talking about targeting the tourists. The locals are allies.

Before Charlie could answer, Andrew Smyth was at Preston's elbow. "Beg pardon, sah. Mister Flint sends word. There's been a scuffle below. Stephen Hudless and John Black have..." Preston and Charlie were already moving and Andrew was forced to finish explaining as they went. They could hear the dying din as they made their way below. They found Bill Flint and Stephen Hudless facing each other down, though Flint towered over the young Frenchman. Adam was helping John Black to his feet. and the arrival of the Ship's Master and Boatswain's Mate carried a weight that spread a silence, broken only by Charlie Goddon. "What's this then?" he shouted into the shadowed space.

Here, here. I'm not changing my avatar either.

My most recent change, with further emphasis on the cheekbones and the jaw line. I also cleaned up the leg bones a little bit to give them a simpler line and definition.