Ransom

May I be the provider of all your powder and shot? (If you always shoot everything, I'll make a fortune)

Outta couriosity.... If someone was looking for you... And they asked "If anyone has seen the Pyrate?" Would everyone know it was you ?...... I think, in your case, Patrick, it would be a no-brainer!

I studied Ioan over the rim of my mug. There was desperation in his dark Welsh eyes, and a pinched look about his mouth. It gave his still handsome face a hard look that had not been there before. I wondered what had happened to him since he'd left the Rakehell. "Yes, you always were willing to risk everything. Too bad you never learned to risk it on something worth while. You're not a stupid man, Ioan. Stop acting like one." "I'm not so stupid as to let you take my share of that money," He snapped. "I helped you take that French ship, and I want what's my due." "Lower your voice, you damned fool," I hissed. "You want to get us arrested? This town is on pins and needles already, and I've had enough excitment for one day." I gave him a contemptuous look. "Bleeding hell, Ioan, you look as scurvy as a tanning-yard dog." I flipped him a sliver coin. "Go get yourself something to eat, but keep your mouth shut." He took the coin and tossed it back at me. "I don't need handouts from you. I want my gold. Either you get it for me, or I go to Morgan." He stood suddenly, knocking over his chair. "Meet me here by noon tomorrow, with my share." "I'll see you in hell first," I replied coldly.

Ah, Reggie. You're the only person I know who could come back from the dead, dressed to the nines! Bravo! (Might want to watch yourself, though. In case you haven't noticed, the Irish boys are back!)

As I came out of the alley between two buildings, I stopped dead in my tracks and cursed under my breath. In front of the Royal Grace was a large coach. The Cunningham arms - a checkerboard of mailed fists, burning towers, ermine spots and even a bar sinester to keep things interesting - shown with heraldic brightness on the door. The last thing I wanted was another confrontation with my aunt. Abuptly, I turned and headed toward the docks. It was getting late, and I needed a place to sleep. On a whim, I entered a small, seedy looking inn, paid for a room I hoped didn't have too many bugs, then sat at a table in the rather cozy common room. A few other sailors talked and drank, but for the most part, the place was quiet and I was grateful. From behind me, a voice soaked with contempt commented, "What happened? You get thrown off your own ship?" Although I hadn't seen the man come in, the voice was all too familier. It's owner walked around to stand on the opposite side of the table from me. I smiled up at my former first mate. "Ioan, how's your back?" He glared. "No longer bleeding, but I'll carry the whip marks as a memento of my time on the Rakehell." "You deserved that little scratch of the cat. You let a prisoner escape, and I suspect you were paid for allowing it." He shrugged. "Moot point now, wouldn't you say?" "Actually, I have very little to say to you. So, if you're done scowling at me, take yourself off. I'd like a little peace and quiet for a change." In defiance, he pulled out a chair and sat. "Oh, no. I think we have a bit more talking to do. At the moment, I have no ship and no money. I want a share of the money you got for the cargo you sold." I took a sip of my ale, set the tankard down, and met Ioan's dark gaze with my own ice blue. "No." "Then I might have to drop a word in Morgan's ear about what type of business you're in." My gaze went from ice to steel. "You do that, and your body will be found floating in Chocolate Hole before you can enjoy whatever reward you might receive." "I'll risk it," he replied.

Can she return from the dead?

^ No, thank God. I have enough of my own going at the moment. < Gearing up for the BIG horse tack/tool/garage sale this weekend. Hoards of strangers rumaging through 25 years of my memories is going to be hard to watch. V Hold on to things, or do you live light and let go?

Iced tea A squadron of six bi-planes that flew right over my house. Very kewl! Myself and the cats JT

Shrek with dreads and tattoos!

Yes, Silkie, I got your book. Great cover! If any of you haven't received a book yet, PM the person who should be sending you one. For you, Silkie, it's Captain P.E.W. In order for this to work smoothly, everyone needs to get the books off on time. Also, you may have to bite the bullet and mail them priority, otherwise it will take too long for the next artist in line to get them, and they'll have to rush to do the pages.

Every two weeks, or basically, the 1st and 15th of each month. Just curious...have all the books made it to their first stop? No mail problems?

I'm sorry you missed the deadline, Lady Alyx. I have PMed you with the reason for the closure. Hope you understand. Ransom

Why is it that plumbers, UPS delivery guys - basically just about anyone coming to the door or calling on the phone - always do so when you're in the bathroom? I'm sure there must be some kind of cosmic Cause & Effect rule there somewhere.

When you know the incredulous looks on the faces of your family/friends after you've told them you spent a thousand dollars to fly across the country, so you could play pirate for two days - won't stop you from doing it all over again the first chance you get!

Yeah, I got a little crafty on this thing. I wanted to have fun, and not get too serious (but I can do serious when I have to!). I did rather like the way the covers came out, though. Amazing what you can do with crinkled brown paper bags and a little paint. :angry: Silkie, I got your msg that your book is on its way. I'll let you know when it arrives.

I have never tried soy milk. I simply cannot find the nipples on the soy beans. Little tiny milkers, with little tiny fingers. I've also heard that soy beans are hard to herd - kinda like Rocky & Bullwinkle herding worms, only instead of pounding the ground, you roll them along. **Key music** Rollin', rollin', rollin' - keep them beanies rollin'....." (And, Captain. The stories will be even funnier if Andy tells them in his Portugese acent!)

Yes, she did. Were you not listening?

:angry: The "sturm unt drang" of a plumber ripping out drywall in preperation of putting in plumbing for our new half-bath. All the cats have dissappeared into the woodwork, as plaster dust and noise fill the house.

Maybe not!

Isn't that "Belly Shot?" ( I was the originator, and I'm sure that's what it was called. Fill your navel with your favorite poison, and offer it to someone whom you don't mind getting intimate with your bellybutton. ) Ransom, would ye care t' demonstrate yer version? (I believe the term body shot came 'bout 'cause folks hav been movin' the shots about; sometimes in a shot glass or not. Sometimes near the navel, or other parts north and south.) I guess I should have clarified that statement. I originated the Belly Shot on the Port Royal joint thread a long while ago - but I am not the originator of the Body Shot practice. As for having an outie, well, can't you find some other place you'd like to have someone...play? (And Jacky, I'll give you a private demo - you bring the poison!)

The ranting old man was starting to annoy me. Yesterday eveything seemed fine. Today he was treating me like a tax collecter. "The ship is named the Rakehell for a variety of reasons, none of which would mean a blind thing to you." "And I nae care!" he fired back. "Just sae long as you leave." My temper flared. "Look you old reprobate, I came for a nice visit. I like you—or I used to. What the devil has changed since yesterday?" "For one, that near riot and shooting in the street. Nae tell me you had nothing dae do with that, for I saw you with mae own eyes through that glass." He gestured toward the spyglass. "Taunting the guards, you were, 'till that black-clothed man siced them on you." I frowed, remembering the black-clad figure, his obvious superiority over the soldiers, and my flight over the rooftops. Who was he? What authority did he weald, and under whose sanction? Since his interferrence had nearly gotten me either beaten or killed, not to mention the possiblity of being arrested along wih Sterling, I had a great desire to know who he was. Trilby continued to glare at me, his chin thrust forward, his ratty beard jeweled with tile chips and bits of whatever he'd eaten for lunch. "I've had enough excitment for one week. If you've embroiled yourself in some nefarious bit of business, I don't want to be connected with it...or you." I rose and gave him a courtly bow. "As you wish." Then I turned to the half-wall, climbed over, and worked my way back to the street the same way I had left it. With the Rakehell being careened, I couldn't go back to the ship. Feeling the sudden need of a strong drink, I decided to pay a visit to the Royal Grace. As I started to jog in that dirction, the air was rent by the sound of an explosion. I paused, trying to judge from which direction it came, but with its echos darting among the buildings, it was impossible. I continued toward the inn, but a smile touched my lips, and I muttered, "No doubt, Trilby will blame me for that as well."

Isn't that "Belly Shot?" ( I was the originator, and I'm sure that's what it was called. Fill your navel with your favorite poison, and offer it to someone whom you don't mind getting intimate with your bellybutton. )

That's my next project, starting tonight. Only thing is, I'm cleaning it so someone will buy it next weekend. Big tack/tool/garage sale. Along with horse trailer and maybe our last two horses. **Sigh** 25 years of memories sold off in a weekend. Not easy.

Make that two! It's one of my summer favorites.

No clothes.