CrazyCholeBlack

like this one Foxe posted about a while back? http://pyracy.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=8703

oh, well then, will it get ye "shnockered"?

A booming sound jerked Ulises out of his sleep. He leapt from the firm mattress, pistol drawn. A thick finger thumbed the locking screw, readying the weapon. Slowly he spun in a circle. The cocked gun surveying the tiny space. Nothing but a broken chair and the scattered remains of an oil lamp greeted him. The second time the church bells sounded, Ulises’ arm fell roughly to his side. He exhaled heavily, the weapon tucked into its familiar place along his hip. He had been dreaming of La Maligna, seeing the fate of her crew at the hands of the Dane. The vision of his brother, beheaded like an animal, set his blood boiling. He paced the small space for a moment, letting the anger fade just enough. Today he would be successful; today he would find the path to the revenge he sought. Another peel from the bell resounded across the city, drawing him out of his thoughts. Ulises turned sharply on a heel, gathering the worn metal room key and heading out into the bustling afternoon streets.

does it have to do with food at all?

Jane turned slightly at the tight squeeze from Striker’s hand. They had been sitting in the filling church for sometime, waiting for the ceremony to begin. He raised a brow to her, the bend of a smirk on his cheek. Bright blue eyes glanced down to her feet. Jane blushed, realizing that she had been drumming her heels anxiously. One foot quickly tucked under the other to halt the motion. She sighed, feeling like a child again, trapped in a stuffy church when she’d rather be out by the docks. She shifted uncomfortably trying to find a better position. Thick silk skirts rustled at the motion. Two work worn fingers picked a section of the fabric, rubbing the material together. It was remarkably soft, shimmering in the beams of sunlight filling the chapel. She felt silly in such an elegant dress. Striker had been quite insistent that she wear it though, along with the strand of delicate white pearls. Perhaps he had been right, at least she blended in with the rest of the over dressed crowd. She glanced around the sanctuary at the others dressed in their finery. Sterling’s crew was a sight to behold in their silver accented livery, quite a contrast from the random castoffs Jane was used to seeing aboard the Anna Rae. Her mind wandered back to her filthy crewmates in the pub. She knew she’d have to return to the merchantman soon. They wouldn’t be in Port Royal for very long, a week at the most. Three of those days had already disappeared in the presence of Striker. As much as she loved sailing, Jane found herself not wanting to leave his side. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time. It made her uneasy, feeling so attached to someone she’d known for less than a week. The last time she become emotionally involved so quickly her entire life had been disrupted. Jane glanced at Striker out of the corner of her eye. He sat stiffly in the wooden pew, Jane’s hand cradled lightly between both of his rough palms. He was obviously still in pain, the color not yet returned fully to his skin but his spirit had rebounded easily. Jane found her eyes wandering his face, taking in the tiniest details. He caught her sidewise look, the spark in his azure eyes sending a hot blush to her cheeks. She looked away quickly, trying to stifle an embarrassed giggle. She felt his comforting hands close around hers again as she attempted to focus on the ministers speech. Jane had a feeling this would be another long day.

Mr. Hand I believe that what ye might be needing is the products from Temptu. I've used their body paint to create very realistic temporary tattoos. The paint can also be run through a standard airbrush for more interesting effects. http://www.temptu.com/ My actual tattoos are all self designed geometic mandalas. Not pirate but I *love* them.

does every answer have to be an innuendo?

I was just comming to say that I found a straw hat blank at Kohl's today. It's got a silly ribbon on it that easily comes off. It was $7 in the clearance.

Welcome Jackknife. Me favorite time o day is when tha lurkers come out o hiding. Nothin better than tha free drinks! I'll take an ale if ye haven't lost all yer coin yet.

Just finished off the last egg's benidict (sans the ham), made from scratch even! I'm darned proud of myself tonight.

Welcome sir. Pass tha rum please & don't be stingy now. No better way ta make friends than get em drunk!

Still regaining reining in her emotions, Jane took the items from Ioan’s hands. Upon opening the rough pottery bottle produced the distinct odor of turpentine. Jane’s nose wrinkled at the smell, the remaining alcohol in her stomach turning. She made quick work of mixing the egg yolks with a splash of the noxious liquid in one of the waiting mugs. She then settled delicately on the padded bedding next to Strikers side. He had fallen back into a light, pain wracked sleep. Jane was happy for the brief respite from his piercing gaze and the feelings it stirred. A scrap of fabric was dipped into the steeped tobacco tea. She dabbed at the gash with the cloth, the former shirt turning red with fresh blood. The line in Jane’s brow deepened as she concentrated. It wouldn’t be half as bad if he had only rested. Though she admitted his stubbornness was most likely what got him command of such a fine ship. Her eyes glanced around at the ornate carvings on the captain’s bed. So different from the rough wood she had grown used to aboard the Anna Rae. Light fingers smoothed the sticky paste across the freshly cleaned area. The touch elicited slight shifts in Striker’s breathing but he remained asleep. Carefully Jane laid a folded piece of cloth over the wound; wrapping his waist with a longer strip to hold the fist in place. “He should sleep for sometime now” Jane spoke softly, afraid to disturb Strikers light slumber with her voice. Delicately she rose from her perch at his side. The thick wool blanket was drawn over his sleeping form before she turned to Ioan. She looked at him critically for a moment, green eyes locking with dark. Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, then shut again as she looked away. Her head dipped as she passed, leaving the enclosed cabin for the rain soaked deck.

Steady foot steps could be heard in the narrow corridor that provided access to the rented room. The sound halted in front of the worn door, a series of knocks echoing through the meager space. One of the men inside rose, sliding the latch and opening the door just enough for Capitán Ulises to enter. The two waiting men could see the furry in their captain’s face. A deep ridge cut between his dark eyes, matching creases surrounding his down turned mouth. A deep red bloomed from below the collar of his dark indigo coat. He stormed into the space like a man possessed. The contents of a small table were scattered in a single, sweeping motion. A scared hand carelessly flung aside the room’s only chair. It shattered loudly against the far wall but elicited no response from the enraged captain. One crewman was knocked aggressively to the floor, his legs kicked out from underneath him. Grabbing the other by his neck, Ulises pinned the man against the wall with a powerful forearm. His words were nothing more than a deep growl in the otherwise silent room. “¡Quiero saber todo sobre La Maligna! Her guns, her powder, her cargo, her crew. Más importantemente, su capitán. ¡Todo¡ Entiendes.” There was no question in his tone. They would find the information he asked or face death at his hands. The men knew their reward for failure well, having seen the fate of others on many occasions. Ulises released the crewman, shoving him hard towards the door. The other followed quickly behind, issuing only a brief bow before the entrance was sealed in his wake. His temper subsiding, Ulises collapsed against the stiff bed. His heavy fingers laced behind his head as his eyes began to drift shut. “Usted verá Capitán Striker, Encontraré su debilidad. Encontraré su debilidad pronto” He thought to himself as he fell into a dream wracked sleep.

Ioan and Lieutenant Lauritzsen crossed paths in the cabin entry as Ioan departed. By the scowl on his face, Jane guessed he didn’t enjoy taking orders from a woman. She huffed in annoyance. Did he really think she’d have any better luck with the crew? The Welshman’s pompous attitude was beginning to eclipse his usefulness. Still with Striker bordering on comatose, she was glad to have someone around who understood her, even if they chose not to listen. With a bob of his head the crewman offered Jane the freshly filled pitcher. She took it in both hands, smiling by way of thank you. He smiled back, bowing in a formal manor that made her uncomfortable. The Dane quietly stepped to Striker’s side, muttering in Danish to soft for her to hear even if she could understand him. Jane’s attention moved to Striker’s discarded coat. Slender fingers searched the pockets, closing around a battered tin of tobacco. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. In a single gulp Jane emptied the remaining watered wine from one of the morning’s mugs. She added a large pinch of the tinned tobacco to the empty vessel, topping it with the fresh liquid. Leaving the make-shift tea to brew, she centered on Ioan’s cast off shirt. It was a quick matter to tear the fabric into several strips. As she worked, Lauritzsen rose from his vigil at Striker’s side, quietly slipping out of the chamber. Alone with only the heavy breathing of the prone captain, Jane let out a panicked whimper. She settled herself heavily into the hard side chair. Two shaking hands clasped over her jade eyes as she folded into herself, the fear settled around her. She had no idea what she was doing. Suddenly all the bits and pieces of information, all the “jumble” as Joseph had called it, seemed useless. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sleep a heavy dreamless sleep. The hot sting of tears was wiped way anxiously as muted footsteps approached. The emotional flood stifled with a breath as Jane stood, facing Ioan as he returned to the quiet space.

"I'm a princess & I have a pirate for a parent" said in the best, annoyed 6yr old voice by my little swab today.

found some interesting tidbits on the medicinal use of tobacco in this article. it covers everything until 1860, so just keep an eye on the dates. It's thankfully organized by general date. Medicinal Use of Tobacco

Jane hurried ahead as Ioan and Lauritzsen maneuvered the stumbling captain Striker onto his quarters. She lit every lamp she could find, filling the darkly paneled space with flickering light. With an anxious hand she pushed the sturdy chair away from it’s position at the bedside. A swift tug straightened the rumpled bed linens. The two men promptly began removing Strikers heavy burgundy justacourps and brocade waistcoat. He offered no resistance as they undressed him, too focused on the pain to notice much else. Jane anxiously bit her lip, concerned by the red stain visible through his fine white shirt. Striker let out a groan as the bloody garment was pulled over his head. He was seated carefully onto the bed, remaining conscious but not without effort. “Um?” Jane muttered, handing the empty pitcher off the sidetable to Lauritzsen with a furrowed brow. The lieutenant nodded, understanding her meaning despite the language barrier. He turned closing the cabin door softly behind him. Jane knelt in front of Striker, her hand settling on his knee. “Captain Striker. Nathanial.” His eyes swam for a moment at the sound of his own name, before they focused on Jane. A weak smile curled his lips. “I need ye ta lay down so I ken get to tha wound aye” She instructed, her gaze holding his steady. Striker’s moist brow dipped imperceptibly. With deliberate care he lowered himself onto the bedding, lying awkwardly on his uninjured side. Jane took a calming breath as he settled back into the pain induced trance. Her concerns had been valid. The cloth she had tied over the injury was soaked with blood. Delicately she pulled apart the knot, revealing the still fresh stab. The day’s exertions had pulled at the opening, spreading it beyond the original borders. Her brow creased deeply. What was it that her mother’s lover had mentioned once about gun shots and other deep injuries? Oh how she wished she’d spent more time studying as a child rather than running around in the streets. Green eyes fluttered closed for a moment as she searched her memory for the elusive answer. “Ioan, find me some turps n’ an egg. ‘N oil o’ rose if we’re lucky.” She stood from the bedside, directing the bystander “'N where’s tha shirt ye had on earlier?”

tonight I took Cheeks advice & cooked cause I had time. made the most delish "3 sisters pie" with zucchini, corn, red peppers, tomatoes & pinto beans topped with polenta & browned in the broiler. Even made enough to be enjoying it for the next few days. I'm full & happy now.

what about the practices that were used before GAoP like boiling oil etc? Would those still have been in use? I was just reading about the combo of turpintine, oil of rose & egg yolk on gunshot wounds. It dates back to the 16th century but would it have still been used later? any good books on this subject? Where is the good Dr. when you need him?

Ulises eyes didn’t move from their position in Striker’s back for some time. He absorbed every gesture, every movement that his prey made. As the table occupants dwindled Ulises relaxed his constant vigil. Thoughtfully he drank from the thick ale before him. Striker was obviously ailing from the previous nights attack. His motions were slow and deliberate. Ulises could almost see the heavy breaths the man took as he struggled with the pain. At first Ulises had cursed his clumsy crewman for only wounding Striker, but he was rather enjoying seeing the man suffer. As the young woman returned with a fresh pitcher Striker’s consciousness flagged. He collapsed heavily, caught by the quick hands of his men. There was a flurry of activity around the table for a moment as the ailing captain was revived. The two other men supported him as he stood on shaky legs, the woman scurrying about like a mouse, gathering and adjusting things the way woman did. Ulises smiled slyly. There was no question in his mind where they would be going. The captain obviously needed time to recuperate and what better place than in the lavish surrounds of a fine Spanish ship. Ulises rose from his table in the dark corner, gliding unnoticed out the rear door. His long stride brought him swiftly through the muddy alley. As he rounded the corner of the tavern he caught sight of the quartet, stumbling up the gray street towards the north docks. He followed at a distance, the others oblivious to his presence. Ulises paused at the end of the sturdy dock, his eyes settling on the beautiful features of La Maligna. He was over come with a wave of anger, wanting nothing more than to board her & slaughter the Danish interlopers. As he drew closer his control returned. Ulises knew that only time and careful planning would ensure his success. He would stand for nothing less than a full victory. As he passed the galleon his dark sight never drifted, continuing to follow her larboard curve until the last moment before he disappeared down the dock

Irish Rovers "Lilly the pink" damned infectious song. Tha little swab sings it all day!

Jane was somewhat relieved that the gathering was coming to a close. She smiled sweetly as Sterling and his entourage exited the tavern. Her focus then transferred to the remaining men. Ioan fumed at the new comer Jack, obviously unhappy that the coin offered by Sterling would not be in his hands this evening. Jane grinned; the man was easy to read, though possibly not as transparent as he openly acted. “Not yet. Another round first” Striker stated flatly, clearly needing the pain dulling properties of the drink before venturing out again. “Allow me Captain” Jane offered rising gracefully from her seat. The empty pitcher was gathered from the center of the rough hewn table. Jane slipped easily through the growing crowd to the bar. She hailed the barkeep with a nod, a polished coin accompanying the carafe into his callused hands.. “Oi, any o’ ye seen Mr. Chole?” A raspy voice echoed over the din. Jane’s heart skipped as she heard the name. Her attention was immediately drawn to the group of dirty sailors only a few feet from her at the bar. She recognized each man from the crew of the Anna Rae. Nervously she turned away, hiding her face from their view. At the same time she strained to hear the rest of their conversation. Most was lost in the raucous music that filled the tavern. She was able to glean just enough to know Captain Fulton was looking for her. Jane sighed, torn between her responsibilities as ships carpenter and her self proclaimed debt to Captain Striker. Still facing away from her crewmen Jane gathered the full pitcher, gliding back to the occupied table unnoticed. “Sir?” Jane spoke softly to Striker as she neared, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. His face had paled significantly in just the short time she was away. His eyes rose to meet hers, agony evident behind the sparkling blue. She noted the faintest beads of sweat on his upper lip as he smiled at her. “Perhaps ye should be resting soon” the concern for his health was evident in her tone.

**Deleted**

Jane’s attention didn’t still through the entire meeting. Her eyes shifted from one speaker to the next, tracing the exchange as best she could. The entire conversation reminded her of tangled rope, undo one knot only to find another or make the first worse. She got the distinct impression that this mess wouldn’t be solved without a bit of cutting. Jane caught the glimmer of greed in Ioan’s eyes as Sterling placed a guinea against the rough table. Something about the way he referred to this Killingsworth as a guest rubbed her wrong. There was more to the Rakehell than he was letting on. She eyed him skeptically for a moment longer before refocusing on the others at the table. The other lady also seemed to be focusing on Ioan. Although judging by the slightest adjustment in her position it was not his interest in the coin that caught her attention. Jane scowled silently to herself. Rather than quench her curiosity, the day was proving just the opposite.

No sooner had Ulises been left alone than a cluster of patrons entered the tavern. His attention was immediately drawn to the group as they settled themselves at a central table. Despite the presence of women, this was no ordinary get-together. There was a calculated balance to the gathering, two men on the arms of ladies, each flanked by two others. Indeed, despite outward appearances it was clear to Ulises that this was a meeting of some import. “Que buena suerte” He muttered a satisfied smirk filling his dark complexion. He sat back in his stiff chair, heavy arms crossing over his chest. His deep eyes settled on the man in red, moving stiffly even with the assistance of a cane. It was the closest Ulises had come to Striker in nearly three months. His gut burned with desire, wishing nothing more than to watch the life fade from the villain’s eyes. Ulises sucked in a deep breath of stale tavern air, gathering his patience. Revenge would come soon enough. For now he would remain content to keep the quarry in his sights.