CrazyCholeBlack

A low chuckle escaped the Spaniards mouth as he stepped further into the tavern. His dark eyes centered on the boisterous man. He’d seen the kind before, plenty of talk but lacking action when it was truly needed. Despite the drunkard’s arrogance, an idea blossomed in Ulises’ mind. His heels clicked steadily in the quiet room as he continued to approach the bar. “Indeed. But what good is drink when there is gold to be had?” A shining piece of eight appeared in Ulises’ free hand. Its bright glint caught the eyes of the other two men. Both heads swiveled his direction as if they were just seeing him for the first time. The devilish crease at the corner of his mouth deepened at their response. “You seem like the kind of men who would appreciate such an opportunity, yes?”

Why thank ye kindly Mr. Tar. I'm afraid m'dear captain has retired for tha evening. Welcome to tha party Red Cat. Yer rum filled chocolates remind me o tha rum balls me grandma used to make. Course I was too young to 'ave any, sept tha ones I, em, pirated from tha adults

“No,” Jane gasped, the color draining from her frightened face. “I, I have to leave.” She rose quickly from the comfortable bedding, flinging the rumpled linens back. Bare feet were shoved unceremoniously into well worn shoes, stockings abandoned in her haste. She rushed over to the closet where she had stashed her threadbare green mantua earlier. The garment was tugged on hastily before Jane turned back to where Striker stood. His calm blue eyes followed her, concern evident in the furrow on his brow. She found herself unable to look at him. The flood of emotions his gaze elicited was to distracting. Instead her head dipped, eyes focusing on the tattered hem of her skirt. She had always known she would have to return eventually. There was no way around her obligation to the Anna Rae, especially not with the threat of fire. Jane pulled in a deep breath, raising her sight to Striker for only a fleeting second. “I’m sorry.” She muttered, turning towards the cabin door.

Or suprisingly little aye?

True to her cheesehead heritage, Jane returns in an embroidered brown dirndl. All that's missing is a nice stein of beer.

Jane's face turns as red as Striker's jacket at the compliment. "all these fine costumes. I fear I'll 'ave to leave ye with yer cheesehead hats n' find meself somethin more fittin to the occasion."

greetin's Black Edward. Welcome to tha pub. A pirate wot gives *out* 'is treasure to tha littles? Is that 'ow we do it now? Oi, that'll put a damper on me plans tonight.

very nice Mr. Hand. Can't wait to see how it comes out all put together. I too am going to need a significant amount of practice to do any handwritting. I'm putting something like this on my "someday" list to be certain.

Jane saunters into the pub looking a bit like Santa clause with a large yellow sack on her shoulder. She drops the bundle on the bar & looks around. “Did I hear somethin' ‘bout cheese?” She digs in the bag and produces a yellow, fake cheese party hat. “Unless o’ course tis a black tie event. In that case I’ll ‘ave to get the other sack.”

Jane melted as Striker’s lips brushed hers. She could feel her heart flutter against the walls of her chest, her green eyes gazing deeply into his azure depths. The warmth of his lips stirred emotions she had abandoned long ago. The fire, the Anna Rae, everything seemed to fade from her thoughts with him near. It was a feeling she never wanted to end. Jane sighed as his strong arms encircled her, settling her into the soft down of the bed. Her hands caressed the short bristle of hair, down the back of his neck, drawing him closer. His rough hands ran anxiously over the delicate fabric of her dress. The thick skirts bunched between them. Jane smiled knowingly, untangling her self from his arms only long enough to loosen the gown. The ornate dress fell in a puddle of silk at her feet. Striker’s eyes brightened at the sight, his hand clasped around her wrist pulling her back on to the soft bedding. The blush from Jane’s cheeks spread across her pale exposed skin. Her lips pressed to his as she returned to the comfortable enclosure of his arms. They disappeared into the passionate embrace until a loud knock resounded at the cabin door.

Three dark figures gathered at the end of a smoke filled alley a short distance from the raging fire. They were all but invisible in the swirling plumes of smoke that filled the streets. “Quiero la mujer. ¡Ahora!” Ulises voice was low and rough, pitched for only his men to hear. Dark eyes burned into them, the intensity of his hate visible in the dark pupils. Frustration creased Ulises dark brow. The boy had been no help in identifying Striker’s companion. However, Ulises' sharp instincts told him she would be the key in Striker’s downfall. He knew little of Striker, but he did know that no man could resist a pretty woman forever. Ulises had seen the blond girl with his rival twice, more than enough time for the Dane to become attached. It was a gamble but one Ulises was willing to take. With a devilish grin Ulises crept out of the empty passageway, his stride drawing him through the throng of people to a quiet section of the city. He stopped suddenly, a ruckus laugher pouring into the vacant city streets from a seemingly abandoned pub. His brown eyes narrowed, curiosity pulling him to the tavern entrance. He paused inside the door, eyeing the three drinking men suspiciously. His rough hand settled on the butt of his worn pistol. “Gentlemen” Ulises deep voice boomed, the hint of an accent in his words. “Interesting to see three strong men drinking while the city burns.”

Well isn't this dandy, I'm a Dandy. You're a non-traditionalist, not limited by gender roles or expectations. Your sexuality is more fluid than that - and you defy labels or categories. It's hard to pin you down, and that's what's fascinating about you. You have the psychology of both a male and a female, and you can relate to anyone.

Jane paused as she stepped out of the rented carriage. Her head tipped back, following the growing column of black. She had seen a fire much like this, back in New York. The flames had engulfed several blocks before a heavy rain extinguished them. She vividly remembered the pervasive smell, the frantic yelling as people fled the creeping blaze. At night the fire had lit up the city like an oversized lamp. She closed her eyes, drawing in slow breaths to calm the racing fear. The wind blew the flames away from the docks, but if they shifted even slightly, every ship in port would be at risk. The Anna Rae would be no exception. Jane hoped that wouldn’t happen, not because she wished the ships spared, but because she didn’t want to leave La Maligna. . Jane shook thoughts of the fire from her mind. She trailed quietly in Strikers wake as he retired to the now familiar cabin. The carved door shut softly behind her. She settled her back against the entrance, watching his deliberate movement across the room. He had put on a strong façade while in public. Behind the closed door he crumpled, sitting heavily on the malleable bedding. “Lesee tha damage ye’ve done this time.” Jane folded her arms in mock annoyance, an overly fake frown creasing her face. Jane crossed the cabin, settling herself next to Striker. The frustration was evident in his face as well as his words. She was overcome with sympathy for the man. He was obviously used to being in control, used to being strong and capable yet this injury was robbing him of that. She helped him drop the ornate jacket and waistcoat from his square shoulders. He stifled a groan as he raised his arm, the other hand lifting the edge of his fine-spun shirt. With great care she inspected the injury but found herself struggling to stay focused on the task. Striker had been asleep or nearly so the last two times she treated him. Being so close to him awake was another story; his vivid blue eyes following her every move, the warm, smoky scent of him making her heart pound loudly in her ears. “Tis better for once” Jane reassured him finally, slim fingers retying the rough cloth bandage. Strikers arm fell roughly to his side, releasing the shirt to its original position. His gaze never dropped from hers. Jane could feel her breath catch, the blood rushing to her cheeks at his intense inspection. Strikers strong hand reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw line with great care. Jane’s stomach turned in a knot, the drumming in her chest defining. Her lips fell open but for the first time in her memory Jane felt too flustered to speak.

I'm a great pirate, since when?

Darn, all I can think of is Feminine hygiene stuff Otherwise it wouldn't be so much what I brought there as what I brought back! That time travel booth better be attached to a wearhouse.

um, a (historically inaccurate) pirate. Might even get my friend in costume if I can promise enough beer. corse we'l be hitting the bar so there will be plenty.

Jane finally released the laugh she’d been holding for most of the event. Her cheeks turned pink with amusement. The entire wedding was quite a fiasco, like something out of the best theatres in England. She doubted any playwright would have done a better job than the participants themselves had. “Aye, it was. Now I can see why ye didn’t want to miss it.” She gasped between giggles, a broad smile on her face. The grin faded a little seeing Striker struggle with the bumping ride. She leaned across the small space, resting her small hand on his knee. He covered it with one of his own, the next jerk of the carriage eliciting a light squeeze as the pain shook him. “Perhaps ye should rest soon, sir. Ye can not heal with all this gallivanting.” Her suggestion was punctuated by the halting of the coach, the door swung open to reveal the floating visage of La Maligna.

see Jack, that's exactly what I was thinking about last night as well. Got to keep everything in the right place. As far as I know The Shipp is one of the taverns before the '92 earthquake. I found the list at the bottom of this page. I figured since we already had The Shipp & The Three Crowns, it is a pretty good list to work from even if it turns out to historically incorrect. OK & being from Wisconsin, the thought of a bar with the word "cheese" in it was just to funny to pass up.

Captain Ulises and his crewmen roamed the bustling afternoon streets of Port Royal. There was a heady scent of fire mixed with the usual sea breeze. A thick column of black smoke drew Ulises’ eye skyward. The blaze would draw a crowd, one which might prove valuable to Ulises’ goals. His pace quickened, feet pounding steadily on the rough streets, as they drew closer to the source of the flames. As the men rounded a corner they were halted by a crowd exiting a small church. Ulises’ paused, watching the well dressed guests pour out of the chapel, the loud peel of the church bells drowning out all other sound. Several were dressed in matching colors, obviously a ships crew of some kind. They scattered, most running in the direction of the growing fire. Ulises was about to continue towards the excitement as well when he noticed a man, walking with the aid of a cane, a lady supporting his other arm. He recognized Captain Striker in an instant. Ulises froze where he was, eyes riveted to the distant figure. A simple carriage pulled to a stop along the rutted street in front of the couple. “Madre de Dios” Ulises gasped in shock, dark eyes centering on the captain’s companion. He had seen the ladies red silk before, a scrap of it sent in a letter from Hernan. Ulises remembered his brother’s letter vividly; it had been the last correspondence he received before the loss of La Maligna. His brother had commissioned a gown made from the delicate fabric. Hernan had chosen the material especially to compliment his beloved’s auburn tresses. It had been meant as a betrothal gift. Now the very garment adorned the woman at Striker’s side. The audacity of the man, continuing to rob his brother even after death! Ulises rage was overwhelming. Thick hands clenched into fists, one closed protectively around the well used pistol at his side. He plowed through the crowd, aiming straight for the couple. Never mind the throng of people surrounding him; he would see Striker’s dead body today regardless of the cost. The sea of people resisted his advance. They jostled him, forcing him backward as many steps as forward. Shoving past a stocky, older gentleman, Ulises watched in frustration as his quarry boarded the waiting carriage. The door shut, driver steering through the assembly before Ulises could get close enough to stop them. Frustrated, he grabbed the arm of the young man who had helped Striker into the coach. He spoke slowly, mindful of his accent with every word. “Pardon. Do ye know who the lady with Captain Striker might be?”

Oh, I'm easy to please. Weapons & attitude tollerant of my "weapons" & attitude Someone who I don't have to bribe to get into garb would be nice too!

well that could pose a problem, you two being at different churches, LOL.

Is the any consensus on how close the Shipp is to the church?

Why can't I figure this out?

yes, it's doing the actual cutting without thier help that I haven't figured out yet. Can't wait to see your choices Captain Straw.

I could have sworn I saw Sir Morgan listed as reading the thread at about 3am last night, er, this morning. But that could have been a dream. I've been known to have ones vivid enough to confuse me like that.