Tudor MercWench Smith

Well, I might not have the most experience when it comes to the pirates of the male variety - but I've quickly learned to take them at face value, and not expect too much from them. As for my adventures with a certain pirate lad, well, I'm of the logic that I knew what he was when I met him - if I get hurt it's me own bloody fault for barreling headlong into it, disregarding all the reasons not to. Anyway, rough luck Mermaid . . . Christmases alone do suck.

Well, as ye all can tell be me name, I'm not so much of a pirate . . . Me da, well, he was the son of Sir William Smith, a poor man who was well rewardwed with a knighthood for his service to the queen. Me Da himself wasn't titled, but the Smith family lived well off of the fortune Sir Willie recieved - that is, till me da spent it all, but that's getting ahead of myself. Me mum, well, don't know anything about her. Me da always said she was a whore. She and me Grandda died the night I was born. The only reason I was born in my father's house was cause me grandda was a noble man. I grew up with the servents, me Da never home. I learned at a young age how to defend myself, what with all the boys picking on me. By the age of seven, they feared my rath. I had a mean right hook and had painfully accurated aim with rocks During a time of Doctor enforced sobriety and boredom, me Da taught me how to fence. Soon I was better at it then he was, and he had me fight any duels he got into for him. Then he started hiring me out to his friends, to fight their duels for gold. Our family wealth was almost gone. Soon, my dueling wasn't enough and Da was going to turn the house into a private brothel. Not to keen to follow in me mum's footsteps, I ran off to Europe and fell in with a band of famed mercenaries. It was with them I learned how to really fight, how to read, how to write, to cook, to sew, and how not to sound like a London guttersnipe - though, sometimes, I slip up. After a long run with the mercenaries - 3 years a soldier, 2 years a captain, something terrible happened. Peace broke out. So, after hopping around the globe, looking for a fight, I ended up in the Carribean. Somehow I eneded up on a ship with a pirate named Ravencroft, trying to figure out what makes pirates tick . . . Well, that's me story, anyway. (And one that I hope ends up in print soon . . .) Have a round on me - I could use the drink anyway.

Am single, always have been, might always be. Always seem to be prospects, but they never pan out do they? One's already attached, another might be a commitmentphobe . . . well, I could use a drink, and a strong one at that. Anyone else need something while I'm buying?

I think I'd prefer him NOT to look like a skeleton . . . although, he would be immortal if anyone decides they want to run him through . . . hmm, worth a ponder that one

'ello all! I'm looking for a little trinket to give to a pirate I know before he leaves port. Historically, what would a lass give to her favourite pirate to bring him good luck and saftey on his travels.