Reginald Killingsworth

Buggery!

Hmm...New England is full of them Rateye!

I have visited such areas as New Port Rhode Island and several Coastal villages of Main and Mass and parts of Long Island, NY.

Are you looking for ghost ships that meet their fate upon the rocky coast line? Female ghosts that beckon men and their ships to a watery grave? Ghostly images of battles that still take place through the centuries?

Or ...do you want them to be true ghost stories?

Let me know what you are looking for and I will be happy to send over a list of great books.

YHS

Sunrise

Greeks baring gifts...

A quick glance around showed me that the only occupant of the tavern not currently either fighting with someone or throwing something, was a foppish-looking gentleman at the bar. His smug expression did nothing for my temper. Grabbing a bottle, I hurled it at the fop, pulled the actress  from the floor and attempted to push her toward the door. "Pray, madame, let go of the ruffian's hair."............With my nose inches from hers, I shouted at the actress, "I'm away. Follow or stay. Your choice!"

Killingsworth watched the madness unfold before him. There was something about a fight…a good dirty fight that made him feel alive. After the bottle had careened past him, he stepped back further towards the edge of the bar where he could be out of harms way. He watched the scene play out. “Better than the theater!” He muttered to himself. He saw blows thrown, furniture bashed over heads and backs, bottles and clay jugs broken upon pates and pallets. Soon the floor was drenched in ale, beer and blood. It was then he saw the young lad dash off and exit the tavern, leaving behind a half conscience male companion and the actress kneeling beside him trying to pry him from the floor. As she pulled at him and tried to get her male companion to sit up, she looked about the room as if to see what happened to the young lad. It was then and only then Killingsworth confirmed that it was the actress Lilly McKinney. Her face drew pale and panic struck her. Even in this horrid little dark tavern she looked exactly as he remembered her in Othello. It was the very same panic-struck look which fell upon her face as Othello came at her while she played Desdemona in the final act. It was then he started to walk towards the couple. He could hear her scream at her half-dead friend that they must depart before it was too late. Smiling to himself and thinking all the while. “This is the part of my job I truly love…”

Note...notebook?

With letter in hand Master Killingsworth snatched up his coat, wig and hat and made his way downstairs to the tavern. The room was filled with the lowest of creation, so he thought. As he wondered up to the barkeep he extended the letter to him. "Please see that thisss-ss letter is delivered to th-that Dark foreigner that was here earlier today. And do tell him that I have no us-se for his s-ss-sense of humor!"

The barkeep looked intensely at Killingsworth. As if to say; “What nerve…who the hell does he think HE is?!” Killingsworth threw down a coin upon the bar. “An ale...” Then turned to look about the tavern. There were many faces that told many stories. He looked towards the windows to see if the rain had passed. In the corner he could hear the voices of several people speaking loudly, but this wasn’t what drew his attention. Taverns are known to be loud and noisy. It was the laughter…a woman’s laugh that caught his attention. It sounded hauntingly familiar. As he searched the crowd, he saw a gang of three standing there…two men and a lady…

Chaste..(snicker...snicker)

Taxi Driver

Night Moves...

One Night Stand...

Killingsworth retired to his room on the upper most floor of the inn. The day was going badly and his head pounded like some great wave on the ocean. The room’s two small windows gave little relief from the heat, thus it for forced him to remove his wig, coat and neck stock. He laid upon his bed and thought back to the cooling rains of England in the Spring. For the moment it gave him some comfort. He closed his eyes and thought back to the early mornings where he would walk in the park. Suddenly, a knocking came upon the door. Killingsworth realized that an hour had past and the knock on the door must be his supper that he requested, and the pretty little maid servant in tow. “Enter!” He shouted as he sat up in bed. His smile quickly turned to a frown when he saw a very large man enter in the maid’s sted.

“What’s this? Who are ye?” Asked Killingsworth was he made his displeasure known. “I’m Franklin, and this be ye supper.” The man servant placed the tray upon the table next to the bed. Killingsworth looked down at the try and noticed the letter. “What became of the maid sss-ssservant?” “She’s been called away, Sir.” And with a bow, Franklin left the room. Killingsworth quickly poured himself a glass of wine. At least his thirst could be satisfied. The image of the little maid was still clear in his head as he picked up the letter that had been left behind for him.

As he looked at the hand writing on the parchment, it was not by any hand that he he knew. As he turned it over and broke the seal, he discovered a single black feather inside…along with a prose:

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret

Never to be told.

“What’s this foolishness? A child's rhyme?” He asked himself. “Some one wishes to play word games with me?” He looked at the letter again. There was no signature or evidence of the author. “Foolish prattle!” He mumbled to himself. “Fyne! If thee wishes games …you shall have games.” And with that he pulled out a few pieces of parchment, his quill, ink pot and blotter. After a few stinging words of his own which he sealed it with deep red wax. “If they wish to play such games as these, I will humor them!”

I'm up for it...all the time!

Proposal

Hello to all,

I'm new to the 'role playing' aspect of Port Royal - perhaps someone can point me in the right direction. I am currently looking into public theaters of Port Royal. I find it odd that we have an actress in the story line, but she hasn't gotten to the stage yet?!

Though, I have looked about the internet for information on such a thing, I am not finding much. I know that the Spainish City did have one or two of them prior to the great quake of '92. Yet, there is little to go on.

What little I have found gives me the understanding that it was a 'public' theater where all could find entertainment there for a price. There was no restrictions on slaves, indentured servant or comman man to enjoy a show.

If anyone can point me in the proper direction, I would be most greatful!

Thank you...

"Such arrogant courage," he thought to himself as the man in question strode to where the proprietor stood.

A series of demands were issued in an educated manner, their flow disturbed by the breakage of stutter. Sabastian backed into further low light cover and watched interchange intently; the maid all but forgotten...

Reginald Killingsworth was in a fowl mood since he left the Ward Theater. The long walk in the heat of the day did nothing for his disposition. He was not in the mood for any superciliousness at that moment. His mind still reeled on how he had wasted the morning only to find out that Mistress McKinney was not at the theater. Killingsworth could not understand the reasoning why. If she had found herself in Port Royal, the theater would be the first place he would have found her. He knew that it was like a second home to her. It was only logical to find her there. But then again, the actions this woman were not logical. They were based on spontaneous emotion, something he could never fathom. He was uncomfortably warm in his fashionable French style suit made of silk. The temperature of the island was not agreeing with him or his temper. He pulled out a fine linen handkerchief and wiped his brow.

As Killingsworth stood in the center of the room, he looked about the Shipp’s tavern drinking in all the faces before him. “What an unpleasant looking ensemble we have here.” Not a word was spoken or given in reply to his poorly addressed comment. Sebastian Devareaux just sat there quietly to observe this new unpleasant addition to Port Royal’s population. Killingsworth smirked to himself and approached the tavern owner at the bar. “My name is Master Reginald Killingsworth. I have a room here, do I not? If ss-ssso, bring a boy around to ss-ss-show me to my accommodations.” He said as he barked his commands at the shabby looking barkeep. The barkeep stood there for a moment looking back at the maid servant then at the dark visitor sitting at the far table. “Do you not undress-stand me?! I Sssaid, I would like to be sss-sshown my accommodations…NOW!!!””

His day was turning into poor and extremely pathetic array of circumstances. It was then the barkeep yelled for a young boy who scurried from the back hall of the kitchen and stood in front of Killingsworth. Killingsworth looked down at the boy. He looked no older than nine or ten years of age. He was dirty and disheveled. “Come now…” Killingsworth said prodding the young boy with his walking stick. “You lead the way.” As the boy slowly showed Killingsworth up the stairway, Killingsworth turned to the barkeep and threw down several coins. “Do sss-ssend up a bit of sss-sup in an hour and tell that maid to bring it herself.” He added with a wicked grin. With that he turned, but not before he bowed slightly at the waist to Sabastian Devareaux. Leaving an uncomfortable feeling in the air for Sabastian.

Wring one's neck!

Master Pritchard and Master Killingsworth made their way to the Stage Manager's dressing room. Looking about the room, Killingsworth saw a state of chaos. "Please forgive the mess. My maid servant is not well...she has been lacking in her duties."

Master Pritchard offered Killingsworth a chair and they both took to sitting at a small table. "I am over joyed to see that patrons of the theater and stage have not forgotten us here in Port Royal. And a new play...fate is smiling upon us now!" Pritchard's face beamed with glee...so much so, that his rutty complexion didn't look so bad. Upon filling a wine glass or two, Master Pritchard continued, "Master Killingsworth, again I am greatful for you delivery of such a gift...but I haven't lived this long not to know that you are here for another reason. Come, tell me what I can help you with?"

Master Killlingsworth smiled lightly, then turned to see the pile of unpaid bills on the Stage Manager's dressing table. "What's your business, here?" Said Pritchard quickly snatching the bills up in his hands. "Oh, I would like to discuss-s-sss my employer's busines-ss-ss...you ss-ssee, the play is a gift...for your help in a pressing matter that concerns him whom I sss--sserve." And with that Killingsworth pulled out a small purse. "I am ssss-ssure that there is enough there to pay off your debtors-ss-s and have a little left over for your actorssss--s."

Suddenly, Pritchard looked pleased and somewhat surprised. With a smile he quickly changed his tune. "Oh yes, of course!" he said quickly pouring more wine into Killingsworth's goblet. "Anything! What is it that I can do for you?" "I sss-s-seek information." He smiled holding the wine goblet to his lips. Killingsworth's eyes watched Pritchard's face. "Information? Regarding what?" "I make inquires regarding Mistress MmmMcKinney." It was then Pritchard's sat there slackjawed. "Mistress McKinney...here?! In Port Royal?!" Again, the Stage Manager's face expressed his delight. "I cannot believe that London's famous actress is here! Does she fair well?" Killingsworth suddenly realized that Mistress McKinney has not yet made herself known to Master Pritchard. "She has not yet made your acquaintance, Sir?" Pritchard shook his head. "Alas, she has not made herself known. Had she, I would be speaking to her as of this moment and placing her in the new play, which you have given me!"

Killingsworth temper turned for the worse. "What?! Sss-she hasn't been here to sss-s-see you?!" Suddenly, he quickly calmed himself. "My employer wishes to make sure that -s-sshe is -s-ssafe. I do expect that she will come to you...in due time. When -s-s-she does, notify me immm-mmmediately. You can s-s-send word over to The Ss-s-shipp and I promise you will be rewarded for your efforts." With that Killingsworth stood, bowed lowly. "I bid you good day, Master Pritchard....oh, and this conversss-sssation that has past between usss-ss sss-sshould be kept quiet...for now." Taking his hat, Master Killingsworth left the room. The rain had stopped as Killingsworth left the theater.... "DAMN that WOMAN!" He shouted as he made his way back to The Shipp.

Have a care!

If it hadn't been for to his employer demanding the return of the famous Lilly McKinney, he would have never had ventured to Port Royal in the first place. The deluge of bad weather didn't help matters. It took him almost a good half hour to walk from the docks to the theater.

His hands and feet were completely soaked. He was not in the mood for an argument from anyone, especially with that woman. Quick tempered women always seemed to make matters worse. It was hard to make a point while they yelled, cried, wailed and threw things at you.

He managed to find his way through the tiny little path down to the main seating area waiting for the performance to be over with so he could speak with the stage manager. As Killingsworth sat, it took him a good minute or two to realized that the actors were performing a comedy. He sat there trying to warm up and looked over the paperwork his employer had given him. He didn't care for this part of his job. Never did, really. Collecting 'debts' were just one of many 'uncomfortable' jobs he had been performing these last three years. He looked at his paperwork again; a very detailed list of instructions which were given to him prior to his departure from England.

He looked about then saw the stairs leading to the back of the stage. He knew once there, they would have a hard time throwing him out. He stood and made his way to the back stairs. Once there, he walked up the landing towards the back room where the performers dressed. "Here? What are you doing here?" Asked the maid servant as she looked at him up and down. "I must speak with your stage manager." "Do you, now?" Sniffed the maid servant. "As you can see he's very busy." It was then he gripped the girl's right arm and pressed her to the wall. "Perhaps I did not make my words clear to you. Fetch your Master. I shall be here waiting...and be quick about it!" The girl pulled her arm free from Killingsworth grip, looking back at him with a look of disbelief as she went to collect her Master before the end of Act I.

As the girl passed through the lower hall the stage manager walked into Killingsworth's view. "There you are!" He shouted with a great big booming voice. Killingsworth winced at the sound of it. "Do forgive me for not greeting you sooner but with the low house lights I did not see where you ventured off to. My name is Pritchard.... Ronald Pritchard I own and run the Ward Theater and you kind sir are?" With a low bow, Killingsworth announced his name. The very tone of his voice was low and dripped with venom. He was quite pround of himself this time...no stammer or stutter in his voice. "Very well Master Killingsworth, you have a proposal for me and my theater, do you?" He said with a smile. "We will discuss our business overr--r a glass-ss of wine, mayhap?" The stage manager looked at the well dress man with concern. "Yes, quite." Then leaned closer to him and whispered. "Fear not, Master Killingsworth...many a good man comes to me to rid themselves of the impediment of the tounge." Killingsworth's eyes narrowed. For this remark, Master Pritchard would soon not forget their meeting.

He despised being in Port Royal. From the moment he step foot up to this tropical island, Reginal Killingsworth grew impatient with everything and everyone around him. "People are fools...idiots!" He thought to himself as he walked the street to the Ward Theater. There in front of the theater entrance stood several girls of questionable status waiting for customers to venture out or in. One dark skin girl smiled and hiked up her skirts just so. Killingsworth hissed his reply. "Whore." and continued into the theater.

It had been raining on and off most of the afternoon that summer day and the crowds at the Theater dwindled miserly to the Stage Manager’s liking. "Oh, this will not do!" He muttered to himself as he looked through the curtain. The audience was waiting for the first act to begin. Then he looked over at the table where a stack of unpaid bills laid unattended. "Damn them to Hell!" He cursed. "I cannot expect to live the life I am accustomed to if the cursed people of Port Royal haven't got the good sense God has given them to appreciate my life’s work! They rather sit and listen to priests on Sunday then to hear my best actor’s performance!"

His assistant quickly passed him a note as the rest of the stage crew rushed about to get things ready for the first act. "Oh, what’s this?!" His assistant pointed towards the back of the theater. The stage manager quickly looked up to see a well dressed man standing in the back lurking in the shadows. It was then the stage manager smiled and let out a sigh.

"We are saved.,.saved I tell you." He quickly kissed the forehead of his servant and smiled uncontrollably. "Looks like we have been blessed to obtain one of London’s renowned playwright’s new play, "All for Love". Again, the Stage Manager looked back at the well dressed man in the back. “I hope that this will show you all I can still manage to obtain a first class playwright!" With that he tucked the letter into his tight fitting breaches and waited for the man to come forward. "But this week we perform The Country Wife!" He said with a sniff and then walked out to greet the well dress man by the name of Killingsworth.

In the heat of the sunny after noon, a well dress man held a perfumed handkerchief to his nose as he exited his ship and waited on the docks of Port Royal.

“The smell is worse than London in summer.” He thought to himself.

He looked over to see his trunks being unloaded by two large men from the Ship. “Here be your cargo, Sir. Would you be needing it delivered anywhere close?”

Said the deckhand in charge of the unloading. “Do thee know of a place? S—s-ss-s-omething that would ss-sss-s—suit a man of my sss-ss-tantion?”

The deckhand gave the well dress man a queer look. It was obvious that he had a stutter.

“Aye, Sir. I knows of ‘The Shipp’ it is just up the way. I shall have my men send it there along with thy name to secure lodgings.”

The well dressed man pressed the perfumed handkerchief into his nose again. “Tell the landlord that Master Reginald Killingsworth will need a large room for at least one month’s time. I am sure he shall ask to secure payment for ss--ssuch a length of time. This I shall sss-ssettle this with him upon my arrival, but first, can thee direct me to the theater? I would like to sss-ss-peak to the Sss-s-ssstage Manager about his latest venture.”