William Brand

You can watch them online at Hulu. http://www.hulu.com/videos/search?query=firefly

Welcome back, Mister Youngblood. You'll find the place much the same, but for new faces. Glad to hear that all is well.

Did anyone here purchase a town in the upcoming Atlas of the Verse? There was a charity auction of towns and I organized the Utah Browncoats to buy a little place on Hera not far from Serenity Valley. We named it Utah. It has a nice western ring to it. All the money goes to Equality Now. http://www.equalitynow.org/

Marvelous images. My many thanks to everyone who documented the event.

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog First Dog Watch Begins William gave over the holy ground at the change of the watch. He went below with too much mystery on his mind, too many concerns unanswered from the past few days and too many mouths to feed aboard ship. He was tired. Tudor was there. He smiled at his ever present steward and began to toss away unnecessary things, beginning with his hat. He looked at her from across the room. "What think you of the Spanish?" "I hardly know him, sah." William paused in the middle of shedding his baldric. "I'm sorry...?" Tudor looked up from the tray she was clearing. She tried not to blush and just managed it, having thought the question more specific than it was. "Sah...?" William blinked and shook his head, wondering if he was more tired then he felt. He dropped the cutlass and belt onto one of the chairs and repeated the question. "I have no opinion, apart from finding the decks over crowded, sah." William nodded and fetched out a few ledgers. He was woefully behind in his bookkeeping of the 'Dog. He opened them to find several loose pages that he couldn't remember penning. "What are these?" Tudor looked them over and smiled. "Tallies of the cargo brought on at Martinique, Captain. You were away, so we each took a turn at the glass, and...the ink well . William could make out several different hands and nodded, placing them on the table. "We could not be sure you wouldn't have details to add, so we kept them separate from the log." "Thank you." William smiled agreeably. "Most kind." Tudor placed a rum share before him, but he waved it off. "See that to any of the wounded who would have it. I had my share of it at the island." "Aye, sah." She made to leave as he began running his hand down the page columns. "You have a very even hand, Tudor," he said without looking up. She smiled as she went out.

This thread has two words I never want to see used together again. Drunken and Swordfight. That said, it's a very nice scar.

Props back to you, Kenneth. Very nice looking outfit.

No, the first film had gravity. When Jack and Will are fighting in the rafters of the smithy they stumble and do the frantic arm waving one associates with people trying to keep their balance from a height. They did this in a stationary building. Later...and under circumstances that would make real people cling for their lives...there is nothing of gravity. The story becomes little more than the most outlandish 'tall tale' exaggeration, placing the characters beyond mortal belief. When characters are beyond the pale of any threat, they cease to be interesting. They survive all unscathed and become boring parodies of real people. Story telling of this kind lacks the lifeblood of immortality and we soon return to it with the dawning wonder that we ever found it appealing. A good story teller cheats less and less in the progression of a tale. Not more and more.

Gah... ...whu? Can't find words to...describe...horror...

The tents of the encampments will hold out even a stout rain, but as a precaution, I would recommend making a bag or covering of weatherproof canvas. This could be sealed in various way, including a good coating of tar. Their are a great many here that could tell you have to make one, and it would provide protection from the elements and a means for transporting it about the festival.

Only rowing. I've been a lifeguard and done all matter of rowing.

Fantastic beards Joe and Jacob!

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog The officers of the Lucy were not alone in their speculation. William, Jim and Jack Roberts stood on the holy ground weaving the possibilities aloud. "Some training...?" Jim offered. "Perhaps." William returned. "A lack of discipline in the ranks. Drunken revelry?" "Perhaps." "Some matter of mutiny settled quickly." "Hmm." Jim smiled. "You're keeping your thoughts close." "Aye." William agreed and tried not to smile as Jim shook his head. "It's pointless to create nothing from so little. They have their business and we ours. I can see no treachery in the unexplained report of a musket or two. Besides, we have their company and the Lucy. the company of allies in a world at war." "Three against whatever lies out there." Jack interjected. A silence followed as each of them considered the possibilities of the Navarra. She remained before them off their starboard quarter, quiet as she had been before the shots, but for the occasional shouted order of the day to day. "Weeeelll...they'd be fools to turn on us at sea." Jim added. "Aye." William said, then added. "Paid passage." He said this as much to remind himself as he did the others. Their arrangement was as simple as currency. Being in the wilderness of the New World, that arrangement carried more weight, and the thought of weight brought William back to the observation so many had made aloud. "She sits so low in the water." Jack narrowed his eyes. "Cannon?" "Perhaps." It was Jim's turn not to agree or disagree. "Gold." Jack said, his eyes widening a little. "Bound for Trinidad?" Jim's tone was incredulous. William's brow furrowed. "Perhaps."

And... ...I shaved my head.

August 6, 1704 - The Navarra Lieutenant De la Cruz stood at the rail awhile with his eyes toward the Watch Dog. She was leaning over to the West now as she was made to crisscross on the wind bringing her a little closer again, but to far away to see faces. The sight of her eased the tension in his stomach a little. A mirthless laugh that was little more than a grunt escaped his lips as he thought of the frigate protecting them from enemies without. Amador Pessoa joined him then at the rail. "What mean you to do, Lieutenant." De la Cruz said nothing. He simply looked at Pessoa and huffed another grunt, shaking his head. He had seen Pessoa at Avendano's side too often to trust him, but then it occurred to him that he might know Avendano's mind better by playing him close. "What will you tell the Captain, Pessoa? Would you understand anything I might tell you well enough to make Avendano understand me?" Pessoa did not answer immediately and De la Cruz smiled. "You deny being in his service too late, Pessoa." "I don't know what you mean, Lieutenant." Pessoa said, trying to recover some state of neutrality. "Of course." De la Cruz nodded. "Of course. Then you won't understand that Avendano will only feed and clothe you until he sends you to slaughter." De la Cruz jabbed the man with one finger. "You're almost fat enough. A few weeks more perhaps." Pessoa's brow furrowed. He was a large man of significant strength, but these words caused the man to stumble a little internally. De la Cruz bore the man no malice, knowing that Pessoa was not as bad as some and better than others, but it delighted him a little to put an Avendano man off his guard. De la Cruz stepped forward suddenly and the tall man was overbalanced a bit. He took a step back and was further unnerved when De la Cruz leaned forward a little and sniffed the air, looking down at Pessoa's feet. "Your blood is in the water, Pessoa." De la Cruz walked away then and left Avendano's man to fret and ponder the strange, unexpected remarks.

I just shaved it off. I look like my brother.

The Poor William Fund. I'll use it to take some troubled old pirate to PIP. It's like Make a Wish for middle-aged re-enactors.

I could grow one special for PIP. Should take me about an hour.

hmmm...........................Do I smell a revival of the demon barber of PIP Street. William, I would gladly make a donation to any charity of your choosing if you did it at FTPF/PIP. My head is buzzed. It's only a quarter inch long now.

Thanks for sharing the process. I need to come out there and document a sword start to finish.

I'm considering a shave after years and years of wearing a beard. Shaving off the beard and getting a wig. Before this hobby I never could have said that with a straight face.

It's a matter that's easily corrected.

I want this for my steampunk kit... ...an amphibious Peugeot.

Ahhh, that article. Yes. Very poorly written and not very informative of pirates in general, let alone the hobby and history. Still, it features one of my photos. I hope it does more good than harm.

August 6, 1704 - The Navarra Lieutenant De la Cruz turned his gaze upon the assembled officers. "I will not be intimidated." "Intimidated?" Capitán Avendano looked up from his meal. It was just one meal of many that he had during the afternoon. The man was forever eating. He filled his mouth again with food and glanced to his right, his way of passing his tongue to his constant mouthpiece. "The unfortunate events of the day have nothing to do with you nor your place here, Lieutenant." Doctor Tarín assured him as he sipped his tea in his usual insipid fashion. "These matters have the support of the Church and Kin..." "The chuuuurch." The Lieutenant snarled, insulted by this for many reasons. "You give purpose to this injury by naming King and Church." "Remember your place, Lieutenant." Tarin growled, which won him the long, unflinching regard of De la Cruz. Doctor Tarin was not prepared for the young officer to fix him with such a threatening look, and his tea cup paused somewhere between saucer and lip. De la Cruz did not blink once, but stared with all the control and coldness of a man who has been reminded once too often of his place. Tarin, try as he might, could not hold the stare that raised the temperature at his collar. The Doctor found that a muscle flinched involuntarily at his temple and he would have turned away from the Lieutenant's reproving look, but he was rescued then by his benefactor Avendano. "Lieutenant..." Avendano said in a long and purposeful purr. De la Cruz blinked ever so slowly and turned back to the Captain. Iker Ruiz Calderón and López de Arriortúa, the ship's master and bosun, watched this interchange with mixed expressions. Avendano set his fork aside and the practiced smile of the devote liar spread over his face. "The purpose of this journey is greater than us all. We must, for the good of our country and our God, see this cargo brought to Trinidad at any cost." "At any cost." The Lieutenant repeated. Avendano nodded, smiling ever. "Yes." He sipped his wine, thinking his need to speak was over and done, but he could see something in the young man's eyes he did not take for obedience or retreat. "The matter is closed." "Aye, Capitán." The Lieutenant agreed, but his tone did not endorse his words. "Closed." Avendano dismissed him then and Lieutenant De la Cruz went, but with the air of one who only goes by choice and not command. The nature of the departure was not lost on anyone, including Avendano. When the door was closed fast, the captain said to everyone and no one in particular, "That one needs watching. Fool and a cast off son." He muttered, and he did not make any attempt to keep these words from passing beyond the portal. Still, De la Cruz was already beyond hearing. The sunlight hit De la Cruz full in the face like revelation when he reached the weatherdeck. He paused, half in sunlight and half in shadow, and had the chance to laugh at the allegory in the moment. He closed his eyes and shivered once. He felt very alone then, but Gasset was at his elbow at once. "What news?" Gasset asked in hushed, conspiratorial tone. "We must not be seen together after today." The Lieutenant returned. "Never be seen with me." "A hard thing to accomplish in a shared grave." "Don't be clever, Gasset." De la Cruz opened his eyes. "It's better not to know me. I've a flaxen cord or two tied to millstones." "Is he...dead?" "It might have been you, Gasset." De la Cruz fixed his friend with a look that was both affectionate and terrible. Gasset had never seen so much tender warning, fear and murder at once in a face. It smote him somewhere deep in his heart and he found that he had no words. "I'm a dead man, Gasset. They'll come for me before this business is complete. Be not near me." "They would not...dare..." Gasset whispered, but he said this with no confidence. "The men..." "No one will dare the field against Avendano. He holds excommunication and execution in his hands." De la Cruz looked about the deck and swallowed hard. He was suddenly aware of three small drops of blood on his sleeve and he quit Gasset's side before he could speak again, too worried to keep his friend's company now that he had crossed a conclave of fallen angels.