Dan Reid

torn feathers from his...

he had wooden legs

Bravo Capt. Have you ever heard of Dr. Kent Hovind? (sp) He is a creationist who goes into detail over many of the topics you have brought forward. He is called Dr. Dino www.drdino.com is his website. If I could make a suggestion about biblical translations. I have studied for the ministry and have found the CSB or Christian Standard Bible to be the closest translation in English of the original Greek and Hebrew. Thought that might help. I will be watching this thread with great interest. Dan

could we not, say, change the day once per week, like say every saturday starts a new day in PR. Won't help with the actual time of day but would help with what day it is. It seems almost impossible for us to all maintain the same hours per day as far as PR time because of the different amounts each of us write. The twins are across the pond so their times are different. Im in school and don't have internet at home so I have to play catch-up after the weekends. At least if we had a specific time for a day change we could kind of keep track of the actual time by what day of the week it is. Saturday is early morning, Wednesday is noon, friday is late night. Something like that? Just a thought.

the red haired man with the little dog under his arm entered the church as the wind howled. He dropped the dog to the floor and struggled to close the door against the persistant struggle of the wind. With a thud the door finally came to rest upon its threshold. The small dog gave a low bark and the redheaded man turned in time to see the priest approach from within the church proper. "I seek shelter from the storm, father" the man said to the priest as he stood dripping water upon the floor. The priest looked down with a scowl at the bedraggled little dog sitting at the man's feet. "That thing be joining you?" he asked. The redheaded man's eyes narrowed slightly "Aye, that he will" With a look of disgust at the little dog the priest nodded "This way, Mr.?..." "MacCraig, Captain Hamish MacCraig" the redheaded man said as he followed the priest to the rectory. The priest showed Captain MacCraig to a room that glowed warmly from the fire already set within its hearths confines. MacCraig and the little dog entered the room. MacCraig walked up to the roaring fire, stretching his hands toward its warmth and the little dog began to sniff curiously around the room. "Will there be anything you will need, sir?" the priest asked. "No, not at this time, father. Just the warmth of this fire to dry my soaked bones." "I shall fetch you for dinner then, my good sir" the priest replied. Giving the dog one final look of dismay, the priest turned and left, shutting the door behind him. "Well mate, at least it's warm" MacCraig said to the dog as he settled into a chair before the fire. The little dog, satisfied with his new surroundings, settled himself comfortably at his master's feet and promptly fell asleep.

wow...did I stir up a hornet's nest.

a small, black dog jumped wildly from the larboard side of the crippled ship, landing in a sandy heap upon the beach. Up it jumped and ran, barking after the redheaded man, soon catching up with him. The little dog ran circles around the man barking furiously as if to say "I can't believe you left me, you bastard" and that's just how the red headed man felt as he knelt down and scratched the little terrier behind the ears. "I canna' believe I fergot ye, ye little blighter. All this worry about me ship and her crew and I fergot me best mate." The little dog sat wagging its tail, all thought of harm forgiven with one little scratch of its ears. "Well, come on then, off we go." the red headed man said as he stood and re-adjusted the worn claymore on his hip. The man and the dog struggled against the wind as they made their way towards the town. The redheaded man looked thoughtfully at the bay, noting as he did that several ships made to leave its confines and head out to the relative safety of open water. "Would that we too could run afore this blasted storm, eh mate?" the man said to the little dog. As he continued his observation he noted one ship in dry-dock and several others still tied to the quays. He looked closely for any of Spanish design. He noted also the long boat along side one of the ships, a chair blowing dangerously about its side as the crew below struggled to catch it before it knocked someone into the sea. Reaching the edge of town, the redheaded man turned toward the church in the distance, the little dog at his side. "We'll be findin' us a warm place ta ride out this bloody storm, eh mate? he said. Reaching down, he plucked the little dog from the street, tucked him under his arm and with his other hand upon his bonnet, made his way through the litter strewn streets towards the church.

and now for the first time ever, appearing in Port Royal, the famous or rather infamous Captain Hamish MacCraig, master of the sloop-o-war "Mist Reiver", Spaniards beware!

Captain Hamish MacCraig, 35, Scottish nobleman. Red hair and beard. Six feet tall, about 220lbs. Very muscular. Born in Aberdeen, Scotland. Dan Reid murdered his brother. Hamish is a wealthy gentleman who owns his own ship. 120ft sloop of war carrying 16 guns, known as the "Mist Reiver" Has no love of any nation but Scotland, but absolutely hates the Spanish most of all. Limps into Port Royal with the "Reiver" damaged almost beyond repair after being attacked by a Spanish Corsair. He has to weather the storm in port because his damaged ship will not survive the storm at sea. He is searching for Reid to bring him to justice for his brother's murder.

perhaps you both are right. Dan may be resurrected if it is felt he can add to the storyline. I will keep my new character as well. He seems to be a fun individual so far. Of course, the poor bastard may loose his ship the the fury of the storm...

the battered sails strained against the wind as the sloop limped its way into Port Royal listing hard to larboard before the coming storm. She seemed about to roll herself to a watery grave. Many holes from cannon shot could be seen along her port side and the rigging was torn loose in many places. The Lion of Caladon, the flag of Scotland, flew bravely from her worn mast. Very few sailors could be seen scurrying about her deck but the man at the helm stood out to any who could see him. His bright red hair and beard whipped about his muscular shoulders and strong, craggy hands gripped the wheel tightly. His barrel chest strained to keep the ship on a straight course, his large legs braced like tree trunks to the deck of his beloved ship. He looked steadily about the port and located a span of sandy beach well away from any man made structure. He aimed the bow of his crippled ship toward this beach and prepared to run her aground. "Mr. Grant" he yelled above the storms wail, "make ready the anchors. As soon as we ground her send em off." "Aye, Aye skipper" the man yelled back. "Mr McGregor, ready the crew to go ashore. Look lively lad, wounded first. Leave the dead till this ruddy storm blows itself out. We'll leave the "Reiver" run aground and hope some of her remains to be repaired when this she-devil of a storm runs its course. Take all the men who still breathe inland. Find a low spot and hole up. "Aye captain, but what o' ye?" the young man replied. "I'll be for town, I will sit out the storm at the church. Mayhaps I can find that murderin' Dan Reid holed up as well. Likely ta find him drunk in some tavern. If I find 'im, I'll be comin' for you lads. Pray the "Reiver" stays sound enough ta repair for we will be haulin' his murderin' arse home." With a lurch, the wounded ship ran herself aground upon the sandy beach and the anchors fell with a thud to the sand. Very few sailors, most of them wounded, left the confines of the damaged sloop carrying a few meager supplies. They gathered themselves together and headed slowly into the surrounding countryside. The large red headed man watched as his lads stuggled away. He then turned and began to fight his way through the wind towards the town of Port Royal.

As the damage has already been done, I believe it would harm the storyline more to try to correct the mistake within its confines. I shall leave Dan to the crows but I had plans for him that shall not now come to pass, plans to find out the twins orders from Ulises and warn Capt. Striker of his impending doom. Alas that shall not happen. I shall write him out and introduce a new character, one who is not so unscrupulous. Although he WAS a pirate. Perhaps this new character will be better accepted by all. I would, however, rather enjoy an apology from the twins as I feel they have wronged me intentionally. This story has tremendous possibilities and I would hate to see that differences between people outside the story affect its future outcome.

I have done so and have yet to receive a reply. He DID kill off my character, he shot him in the chest and his "brother" slit his throat.

I find it quite disgusting that one player can kill off another's character without that person's consent. This is an issue that should be dealt with will all haste. I will now have to completely start over if I am to continue to play here. I was under the impression that this saga was for everyone's enjoyment. Perhaps that is not so, I suppose you must be one of the elite to participate in this story line. Perhaps I am being to judgemental or perhaps Liam has taken a dislike to me. What ever the cause, I still feel that something should be done to remedy this situation.

at the first sound of the winds howl, Dan stepped outside the Three Crowns and looked to the sky. The gathering clouds promised to provide for a dangerous display. "Best be headin' inland" he said to himself. But then, an evil thought crept into his head. "Course, this could be a chance ta fill me pouch wit' some more coin." He looked around at the many shoppes and houses that would soon be abandoned to the fury of the approaching storm. "He he" he laughed to himself. "Need ta be findin a place ta hole up, then we be seein' what loot we can lift afore good peoples return." He set off down the street searching for a place that would weather the upcoming storm safely. Passing near a tavern he noticed the cocky Irish lads and the Spaniard engrossed in conversation within. "Shelter later," he thought as he stepped into the alley waiting for one of the three to leave. An evil smile crossed his sea worn face.

Dan returned the pistol to the bar, uncocking the mechanism carefully and picked up his tankard. "Bloody Spaniards" he muttered under his breath. He looked up agian with a start, thinking the Spaniard had returned as footsteps crossed the threshold his hand again reaching reflexively for the pistol as two men and a woman entered the Three Crowns. He watched calmly as they climbed the stairs to the rooms above. Again picking up his tankard, he took a large drink. " The fire must be out " he thought to himself. "The tapster be returnin' soon," he reached over the bar and refilled his tankard with the rich brown ale.

looking at the man standing at the door Dan smiles "what da we care if'n the city burns er not...hehe....we got free ale" he holds up his foaming tankard with his left hand as his right lays calmly on the pistol laying upon the bar. Dan looks shrewdly at his drinking partners as his fingers lightly tap the butt of his pistol. He hopes they have noticed the newcomer as well "I see yer not inta fightin any fires yerself, ye and yer lads...why not join us fer a round, th' tapster done run off and fergot ta take his rum wit' him."

picks up his bagpipes and heads for the door "gotta run, me hearties....another party awaits, one with mini crewmen...hehe"

"hehe....cause we can blow, finger, and squeeze all at the same time!"

"ya know why the lasses all like us bagpipers?"

turns to Ransom "Aye lass, I be regulation underneath..hehe...and I can play ya a merry tune or three. The more rum, the better I be...hehe"

walks up to the bar, lays down his bagpipes and orders a tankard of rum. "Course I might be tempted ta let her nibble on me...hehe always on the lookout fer new adventure."