CaptainCiaran

Hmm, Lady Seahawke's method gives me a mouthful -- Sir Washington Allen Coastal Crow (sounds like a dignified trickster god) I think I like me pirate name from Tall Paul's method better. That was Silver Neck Al.

Amelda Marcos

starvation

(The lad sent the Captain's request to Ciaran, who after a moment of deep concentration says,) It is. Blimey, it is. Tell the Captain it be the same Dutch merchantman that we had seen before, the same day we later encountered the Black Lament. I am certain it is the same merchantman. Her sails are ablaze, there be fire midship, the masts are heavily damaged, and she be dead in the water. Her crew appears to be trying to put out the fire.

Maybe it's jes the state of mind (or mindlessness) that I'm in today, but I am laughing my ass off at some of these. Petee, yer's are a riot, mate!

barrel of monkeys

@ Sealegs' and Duchess' pirate names! Patrick, yer pornstar name would make a better romance author name! Rumba, yer pirate name sounds like a casino employee's name! TallPaul, yer pornstar name is a winner fer sure! Okay, so mine would be: 1) Pornstar name -- Bimbo Senter 2) Romance author name -- Allen Stuart 3) Pirate name -- Silver Neck Al

Sweet and Low

Dixie Crystals

(After speaking to the QM about the smoke on the far horizon, then briefly talking with Diego [and feeling more cheerful about the Monsignor's state of being], Ciaran climbs smartly back into the nest. The Watch Dog be making good time now under full sail with steady winds at our back. With spyglass to eye, Ciaran can now see that it is indeed a ship ablaze on the horizon. The fire appears to be coming from midship and raging, the sails are aflame, and there be frantic movement of crew upon her deck. Ciaran looks down and notes that the QM is using his glass and undoubtedly seeing the same sight.)

Great pics, MW!

grits

quackers

Michael Keaton

LOL Oh, that's funny!

stallion

the old grey mare

Diego, hope yer feeling a bit better today, mate.

I really do believe that cliche, 'when it rains, it pours'. Sometimes seems like one's stars get all out of alignment. Christine, I am truly sorry to hear all that you've got going on. Me heart goes out to ye, lass. Take good care of yerself and those ye love.

Starboard, 15 degrees off the bow, Sir. Ye can't see a ship, only smoke, but at that location in the water t'would have to be a burning ship.

(Always scanning the horizon with his spyglass, Ciaran muses how there has been nothing to see 'cept water and gulls fer many a day. Then, as if summoned by that thought, he sees it....smoke. He pulls the glass away from his eye, blinks, and replaces it. Smoke. Far, far off, barely visible even with the spyglass, but definitely billowing smoke. Ciaran turns toward the deck and shouts for one of the boys to fetch the Captain and Mister Lasseter smartly. As the young lad runs off below to find them, Ciaran keeps his eye peeled on the horizon.)

It'll be all the rave soon. Everyone will want a tan like yours. I regret that I now have to slather sunblock atop the crown o'me head. Sunburnt scalp -- ouch.

How 'bout this one: We're flying high, we're watching the world pass us by. Never want to come down, never want to put my feet back down on the ground.

roll the dice

Hey Mercenary. Tell me about the unusual sunburn ye be sportin' there, lass.