William Brand

I've played strict fantasy games in the past, and I love a good zombie game, but I lean towards hard sci-fi now, having been the lead artist on a project called Universe. Not to be confused with the much older game of that name. Here's some of my work... http://www.towerravens.com/

I've attended Running GAGG out of Geneseo, New York a number of times. It's a much smaller convention then most, being a college-based con, but my favorite group for comradery and gaming. http://gagg.geneseo.edu/pages/runninggagg/

No, but the Shindig I hosted for the Utah Browncoats came off without a hitch last Saturday. Good company, good food and episodes of Firefly. We're planning on at least two more parties before year's end.

Nice. Well, you're about a 6 hours drive from the only East Coast convention I attend. I need to broaden my travels.

Did you want a meal or a skin graft?

We are up to 93 pirates attending the various camps and crews. Ninety-three. I like seeing our old numbers shattered year to year.

But of course...

John, do you ever go to conventions on the East coast?

I can't imagine needing a new anything, but perhaps more of everything. And to John...one steak, bloodied, beaten and served up like a treasure fleet defeated...

And thank you for saving so much of it.

Today's special is everything we have in the larder that didn't go bad while we were away.

Each time I see one of his 'first attempts' at a new project, I am astounded. It looks remarkable. If it's possible to be proud of someone else's work, then I am.

Said and done...

The cake is a green tea custard cake, and while I generally pass on tea, I think I'd have two helpings of that thing.

Those nearest to William remained quiet. He bore their eyes and whispers for a time, but then turned on them so suddenly as to startle a few. "Gentlemen, please...you may speak freely." "It isn't you...sah...well...it is and it isn't." "That's a contradiction. From the Latin... Contradictionem if I'm not horribly mistaken, which I most certainly am. I've vomited up enough unsolicited wisdom in the Ward Room as to leave a smell...lingering. Please. Talk. Otherwise I shall have to return there and lap up all that I disgorged. And that is not Latin. That is...French." There were a few sniggers at this and it loosed a few tongues. "Sah, what I meant to say is that...well...is it true about Klaas?" "I thought that news would be all about the place by now." William returned, then nodded. "It is true. Beaten and placed rudely down a well." There were grave nods at this and William nodded with them. "A bad business, that. We shall see it finished. Den Oven will know the name of Klaas Scymmelpenninck before he swings." William said with a tone both reassuring and absolute, like a truth already realized. "Be certain of it. Now...if it would not be too rude to the memory of him, might I change the subject to lighter things." No one seemed too grave to set the matter aside quietly, but quiet they were nonetheless. William also noted how many of the newest sailors looked on from their hammocks with interest. William made a few remarks touching the quality of the hammocks and the service of the Inn Lucy, but when he could not prime anymore conversation than a smile or a nod, he slipped from his hammock. "I must beg the favor of a man of my stature." No one answered. "My stature as a man...being just shy of six feet..." William prompted. "Will not a man of my size lend me clothing dry enough to pass the night? For apart from this shirt I am sodden still." A man was heard to slip from his bunk and fiddle with his belongings and clothes soon passed through the ranks. William slipped from his wet clothing, all but his shirt remaining. As he could not see Tudor present, he thought perhaps that she might not see him, though it was a passing thought. "As you see, Gentlemen, I am a man...like the rest of you." "Welll...not so, sah. More...red, sah." "Aye." William agreed as he began dressing again, for indeed his hair was red throughout and he laughed a little to be observed so much, like a creature of myth in the open. "Carved of white, unblemished alabaster and fashioned throughout with copper filagree." William joked. "Observe what efforts I make daily to keep the greater portion of myself pale, after the Roman fashion." These last, self deprecating remarks finally hauled down the silent curtains of his office, as men about him bared arms and legs to reveal where the sun touched them little, vying to see who was the most 'Roman'.

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Lucy William did not ignore Jenny anymore than Preston did, but William soon realized that it might seem so, they being so used to having a Steward about, sight unseen. "I have served in many a navy, Miss Ashcombe, so let me be plain. I have served in a navy here and a navy there. I have witnessed in my years the subjugation of men. I have, with my own hand, taken up the lash against my friends to keep order in a navy crueler than this. I have, owing to my position, chastised greater men than myself for the purpose of protecting the Whole." William nodded to Preston as he said this. "Whatever you were before, Miss Ashcombe, be it slave or servant, you are now the Steward of my Captain Lasseter, who in another time ruled over me as a just and superior servant of the Whole. He is a singular man like unto no one else, being as righteous a man in frame, wit and spirit as may be had. You may keep any secret you wish, as do many aboard this ship and mine, but let any such secret harm but the lowliest of mine...and I will take up the lash. Let one misdeed from any man here or on the 'Dog cause further harm to my Mister Whittingford, more than his service and loyalty alone have already caused him...and I will take up the lash. This above all...should anyone harm or cause to be harmed my good Captain Lasseter..." William did not finish this final possibility with anything more then a slight tilt of his head. His voice had remained quiet and measured throughout, but for the obvious conclusion in his tone at the end. "We...sea creatures..." William said, smiling wryly. "...understand the necessity of seeking out what cannot be seen below the surface of that path laid before us. As the path changes, so do the threats unseen." He held out his hands on the table palms up and apart. It was the gesture of 'that is all and there is nothing more to it' and indeed, he and Preston seemed beyond the point, for the spoke freely of other things, having already passed over the obstacles of the moment to safer waters. They continued in conversation this way for a few minutes and then William excused himself. Preston insisted, more than once, that William should have use of a better space than the berth, but William begged off saying, "It will be tomorrow before I sleep, but I would hear the men talk, sing or snore. I could use the air." He seldom had the chance for any company in sleep, and he made his way to the crowded hammocks forward, content for his alloted width among the crew. Between seven and eight bells of First Watch

Aye. It may very well be. And now... ...CAKE!

Toasting the kidneys by assaulting the liver. There's a metaphor in there somewhere.

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Lucy "To forget...to conceal...even to misplace such information could damn us all." William said in his quietest voice of the evening looking out at nothing in particular. He said it almost to himself. He was a long time quiet after that and Preston let him have the silence, though he gave Jenny several meaningful looks that were hard to translate. William let the blanket that had warmed him fall about the arms of the chair in which he sat. Then he began to speak in halting phrases, interrupted by the task of removing his own clinging shirt. If he was conscious about any embarrassment this might cause the new Steward he did not show it, for he undressed without looking up, all the while remaining seated. As he did this he spoke about a sailor named Augustus Muller. "He was a singular man of good carriage. He was well spoken for an able seaman and, as I learned after his death in some conference with others, he was a man of some wit." William had stripped the shirt from his shoulders by then. He ran a hand over a well knit scar at his collarbone. "He kept as much to himself as any of mine might have aboard a ship, until an engagement which held us trapped against the shores of La Desirade." William looked at her with a calm, almost conversational expression. "He shot me just here. The ball passed between the bones of my chest and lodged itself against the interior of my shoulder at the back. I had not the opportunity to turn away, expecting no such attack from the sanctuary of my own ship. However, I was fortunate in this, for had I known to turn but a little in any direction, I might have sounded my own end." William shivered then, but it was against the cold of the room and not the memory. Still, it had the effect of making him more mortal than before. "Augustus remained aboard ship, his treachery unknown, as did Van Buren, of whom I have spoken before. Their pact of evil remained undiscovered beyond the death of John Sons and two officers of the Danzig. Only when Augustus stood before me in the Ward Room of the 'Dog, pistol in hand, did I know his purpose." William ran a hand through his wet hair, drawing it back from a finite scar which ran along the part there. The scar was so small, that it was all but faded and would be completely gone within a year if not sooner, but William drew attention to it when he explained how the mutinous Augustus had struck him across the skull, knocking him to the floor. Preston had heard this story several times in pieces, and listened to the details with as much interest as any good listener, for he had an appreciation for good stories. He did notice one difference between this telling and the ones which came before. William was making a point of using Muller's first name throughout the narration, and he had never known William to do so when speaking of Muller. He wondered if Jenny understood the reasoning for it; the demonstration of a more intimate mutiny. William continued explaining scars, including one on the back of one arm where Augustus had dragged him unconscious through the broken casement of the Ward Room windows. He bared his wrists where the chain scars had not completely faded from his time in the bilge. He did this with no more drama than the displaying of them. His voice had remained quiet all the while. He finished there without conclusion. He did not show the many slivers of scars from the thrice daily beatings he suffered at the hands of his captors. He did not explain his rescue, the death of Jean Micheale Fournier being still too fresh on his mind to speak of his lost friend. He made no mention of the execution of Augustus Muller. He did not amend his story with any cautionary wisdom. He simply reached for the dry shirt waiting for him and slipped it over his head, hiding away a dozen or more stories in the scars they could see elsewhere. Preston tipped a little of his drink into William's glass then. William smiled at the gesture and they made a toast of no words, each drinking and thinking of times past, Preston from where he stood, and William from his quiet chair. Jenny stood apart.

Here, Here!

Dorian passed a kidney stone. He gets free drinks and fare for a week. Oh...and hide the kidney pie. He needs no outward reminders.

"Taken you aboard or employed you in his service." William repeated, quietly. "Of course. How gracious of Captain Lasseter to offer you the safety of the Lucy, as no such safety was afforded you on the 'Dog. I wonder what my Steward would say to hear you dismiss our Ward Room so casually. I have not had the occasion yet to explain to her how inhospitable you found our sanctuary...so recently quit. Inhospitable enough to drive you openly before a dozen ships on the Cul du Sac Royal and those eyes which fell upon us from the heights of Fort Royal. I thank you for discovering our lack. I must see to it that my table is better defended and dressed for solicitous vagabonds to come." There was a pause, which would have remained heavy enough, but it was punctuated by thunder rolling off the hills of Martinique and the seacoast. "If this is all that you have to say on the subject, then I will say no more of it." William said with an air of finality, then added. "Of course, it should not trouble you then to know that Monsieur Durand questioned me at great length but yesterday concerning a Miss Poole. He was careful to note that Miss Poole did not appear anywhere within the pages of our most excellent ledgers. He made no secret of this curiosity, returning to the subject several times and on various points. His curiosity was great enough to encompass the assassin who fired upon my people for reasons unknown." William looked at Preston and then back to Miss Ashcombe. "I have observed men of power in equal earnest, Miss Ashcombe, but few possessed of greater capability than Monsieur Durand."

William drained his glass and set it aside. "Then would you be so kind as to tell me who it is that you are running from? You are strongly encouraged to be as forthcoming as possible, as your answer might, and probably will, endanger the lives of some seven score men and women."

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Lucy With little room to maneuver in the small room, Preston was brief. He explained the death and discovery of Klaas Scymmelpenninck as it had been explained to him. This was met with mixed reactions, for some had known him well enough and others not at all. Nathanial Brocke seemed most effected, having served with Klaas aboard the Heron. The man might have sat down if the space had permitted, but he kept his feet with his head lowered. Alder, having also served with Klaas, was seen closing his eyes in the slow deliberate way of one trying to shut out the images of bad news. Nigel asked the question on almost everyone's mind. "May we ask if there is any news of Ajayi, sah?" If anyone noted that his inquiry left out Joshua Wellings, no one said anything about it, for Ajayi was simply known so well as to eclipse the other missing man to all but a few. William shook his head a moment. "Neither Mister Wellings or Ajayi have been found alive or dead." Some other news followed this, with William explaining the roles of Turcotte, Durand and other members of the French government at Martinique. William let his eyes fall on Miss Ashcombe at the mention of Durand and at Preston when mentioning Turcotte. Preston made a face demonstrating his disdain for the lieutenant. William further explained to them that he would exhaust all the powers at his disposal to find out what had become of his missing men at Martinique and return them alive or dead to the Whole Company. Some questions followed and soon the business was complete. Preston excused the officers of the ship as William excused Miss Smith. Preston would have given the deck over to William then, but William declined, insisting that no such formality was necessary. "I...we...are content to be your weary guests until this rain abates. Please see Miss Smith and the others lodged in the empty hammocks of those men ashore and we will wait to see what the morrow brings." "Aye, Sah." "Preston..." William began, shaking his head as Miss Ashcombe refreshed his glass. "...you are risen above the ranks. When in this place, let it be William." "Aye, s...William." Preston returned, purposely slipping. "My ears are weighed down by 'Captain' too much in a day. The Spanish, French and my own..." William rubbed the bridge of his nose and stretched his water weary feet. "Besides...we have no secrets before the Steward." William added, and he looked at Miss Ashcombe with a look that was made up of too much of nothing. His calm face before the storm. "Why did that man in the boat shoot at you as you crossed to the Lucy, Miss Ashcombe?" Six Bells of the First Watch

I forgot to mention that our Can't Stop the Serenity screening went very well. We raised over $2,000 for Equality Now and Our special guest, Geoffrey Mandel, gave me a screen used Alliance Bill from the movie.