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Posted

...but it DID come out o' me fingers whilst waitin' fer the last student o' th' day...don't be knowin' iffn' it be the start o' a story o' jes plain stupid scribblin's...yer choice...

___________________________________________________________

No longer would she silently and obediently wait for her man to return to port.

She’d learned the ancient ways of bladed warfare thanks to the friendly town armorer, who had more than once responded to her flashed smile and lowered eyelashes. And why wouldn’t he, if he were a red-blooded man? Not like that milquetoast husband of hers…Indeed, for that matter, why shouldn’t SHE use the knowledge, born in every woman, that the male species was naught but a tool to be used when needed, then discarded…

Slashing the antique cutlass skillfully through the humid evening air, she grinned to herself. It felt good. Better than good – it felt natural. As if she were meant to be playing out this role at this very point in time. Oh, how her kin were taken aback when she confided in them about her plan – they just didn’t, and couldn’t, understand. Too many years of sameness, of living a life of no expectations other than to live and die. What had happened to life in those years? Where had the joy, the pure animalistic pleasure, gone?

The full moon was streaming down on her delicate features now, giving an eerie phosphorescent glow to her cheekbones, causing her eyes to reflect a cold, blue light. Her movements began to acquire a rhythm of their own, a kind of dance-like reeling, and her supple arms carved graceful circles as she parried and thrust, over and over again. Her breathing, until now a quiet murmur, became a labored rasp as her exertions picked up speed, occasionally uttering a powerful grunt as she performed a particularly difficult move.

Her practice ended, she paused momentarily to wipe the perspiration from her eyes. What was that? That movement, there in the shadow of the inn…the sound of footfalls echoing on cobblestones assaulted her ears. She thought to give chase, to discover who the knave was that would intrude on her private time, but soon thought better of it. What did it matter? By this time tomorrow, she’d be long gone from this accursed town.

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted

Now lad.... if'n you were of a mind to be after send'n spys to keep a watch on me.... you might have just spoken up.

I would have invited you in. B) (Been a real life pro swordswoman since age 22, says I)

(Well done lad, well done. We must compare putting down fights with bladed weaponry into words.)

Well, you may not realize it but your looking at the remains of what was once a very handsome woman!

IronBessSigBWIGT.gif

Posted

Ah, but m'lady, th' fun be in th' peekin'!

Asides, I'd not be confrontin' no experienced swordslady with naught but me semi-sharp wit'...

But sure an' we could talk o' th' verbs and nouns what be related to swordplay...

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted
Ah, but m'lady, th' fun be in th' peekin'!

Asides, I'd not be confrontin' no experienced swordslady with naught but me semi-sharp wit'...

But sure an' we could talk o' th' verbs and nouns what be related to swordplay...

I'll be after drink'n to that. B)

Well, you may not realize it but your looking at the remains of what was once a very handsome woman!

IronBessSigBWIGT.gif

Posted
I likes ta see a man gittin' inside a womans head.....

Aye...

...and Neptune knows they been in mine enough times! B)

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted
I likes it. What be the rest o the story?

Hmmm..

I cant's be tellin' ye that, lass, 'tils I take me dinghy up me stream o' consciousness...

It weren't really nothin' but scribblin'...but maybe, seein's as how yer all so's nice ta this ol' pyrate, I might be thinkin' o' some more structured scribblin' hereabouts...

Anyone hereabout got's a name fer this ficshonal lass?

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted
I cant's be tellin' ye that, lass, 'tils I take me dinghy up me stream o' consciousness...

B) Your dinghy can do that? B)

Because the world does revolve around me, and the universe is geocentric....

Posted
Anyone hereabout got's a name fer this ficshonal lass?

Expierence has taught me that 'tis only you that will be after know'n that lad.

Seach around yer soul a mite.... she'll speak up and then you'll know.

B)

Well, you may not realize it but your looking at the remains of what was once a very handsome woman!

IronBessSigBWIGT.gif

Posted
I cant's be tellin' ye that, lass, 'tils I take me dinghy up me stream o' consciousness...

:o Your dinghy can do that? :P

Aye - a well-trained and obedient little dinghy it be...

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted

Anyone hereabout got's a name fer this ficshonal lass?

Expierence has taught me that 'tis only you that will be after know'n that lad.

Seach around yer soul a mite.... she'll speak up and then you'll know.

:o

In agreement I be, Mistress Bess...but I figgered this'd be the Forum's gal, NOT mine...

...I got me ENOUGH female voices speakin' up in me soul...

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted

Hmmm...

"Her given name, Isabella, had been eternally corrupted by the tavern ruffians to Izzy"...

Grrr...brings up associations in me head wi' an Izzy I once't knew...

"Mara her name was...an unusual name to be sure, but one that resonated in the heads of many a suitor"...

Mara mara po para, bee bye bo bara - Mara...no....

Elena...Lady Elena....hmmm... brings up associations in me head wi'...no, thet were Eleanor... :o:P

How's about - Concepcion...Dorena!...with a tilde over the "n" - don't have the brain power to figure out how to do that right now...

"Dorena paused, the sweat glistening upon her alabaster skin, her heaving bodice..." LOL - Signet paperbacks, here I be!

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted

If I maybe so bold as to pst my opinion, perhaps her name should remain unkown so that everyone can picture her for themselves. I freely admit that I'm no word smith like some on this forum but the air of mystery around this unnamed lady does add alot to her character and story. I look foreward to hearing more of her.

P.S. Keep up the poetry it provides a great deal of insperation and visualization to some of us who might lack the talent to expess themselves in such a manner. ( I hope I got that right. )

I love the smell of gunpowder in the morning. To me it smells like....PIRACY!

Posted

Aye, Longarm, I be thinkin' that be th' best way o' doin' things...

A wee bit o' mystery be quite fittin' fer such a lass...

Be it known, then - we be in th' audience o' Lady X :huh:

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted
Be it known, then - we be in th' audience o' Lady X :huh:

Hmmmmmmmmm.....

Lady *P* perhaps??? :huh:

Well, you may not realize it but your looking at the remains of what was once a very handsome woman!

IronBessSigBWIGT.gif

Posted
I'm rather fond of the name Victoria myself. :huh:

Lady *V*??? :huh: (shrug) Has a nice ring.

Well, you may not realize it but your looking at the remains of what was once a very handsome woman!

IronBessSigBWIGT.gif

Posted

Iffin' I may be so's bold...here be

PART II

Morning broke with a cock’s crow and a blood-red sky.

The human detritus that still lay in the gutters from last night’s revelries groaned and rolled over as one. Their usual devout wish, to be back in the tavern with coin in their pockets, was oddly absent this morning, yet another portent of great events in the brewing. It was all they could manage to gain their feet and stumble off to wherever they called home.

Even the animals sensed something ominous this morning. The town cats, usually by this time mewling their milk song as they made the rounds of friendly townsfolk, were deathly still. They sat hunched up, looking not so much like lumps of furry clay, only their wide-open eyes betraying their fear.

It was a morning made for her.

Gathering the few threadbare bits of clothing she owned into a bundle, she checked her other gear. Cutlass, of course…dagger…whip…some odd bits of cloth to mend her attire…and that was it. That was the sum total of her twelve years in this God-forsaken place. Why had she stayed so long? What was the attraction? Granted, the young men of the town provided a diversion on occasion, and there were a few real gentlemen, like her Sword Master. But none of them ever equaled her true love.

Had it not been for her blessed mother coming down with the ague, she’d have shown her hindquarters to this miserable place years ago. But a daughter did what a daughter need do…she had stayed, taken care of Mother, and when the life force had drained from her mother’s still-youthful body, it became only too clear that it was time to move on.

But now there were no more events holding her here. She would never again have to pretend she hadn’t heard the whispered comments in church, felt the stares on the streets, and the children – they were the worst. How could a parent corrupt their offspring so totally, so maliciously, that they would parrot every phrase uttered within the safety of their homes?

“She be a witch, that’s what”, said one little tyke.

“Aye, step lively, o’ she be castin’ a hex upon ye”, claimed his companion.

“And she be a whore, be what my Daddy says” chimed in a third.

Hurtful words, damning stares, the insincerity of most of the menfolk – publicly shunning her, but seeking her favors in the dark hours. But not so the men that came from the sea – pyrates, as they were known – they made no false gestures, no two-faced comments, no outright lies…they were honest. Painfully, bluntly so on occasion, but better that than lies. They were honest in what they did and what they were – they had no illusions about their stations in life. They were crude men, rough in word and deed, but through that crudeness shone a basic truth – “I be what you see”.

One such pyrate in particular had captured her eye, and then her mind, and then…dare she admit it to herself…her heart. Their liaison had been all too brief, but burned with an intensity she had never before suspected possible. Even his touch, with hands lined and cracked from exposure to salt and sun, was like a soothing feather stroke. His whispered words of parting had ignited a flame within her, a flame that could be fed only by wanderlust and adventure on the sea.

“Lass”, he had said, “become a seafarin’ woman. There be precious few, aye, but ye be a perfect one fer it. Jes’ imagine what the two o’ us could be doin’ at sea…”

Her useless husband was a pathetic creature compared to this magnificent pyrate…

“Time’s a’wastin’” she scolded herself. Taking one long last look around her humble lodgings, she glided through the iron-banded door and into her new life.

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

Posted

Tis highly interestin' says I. Very nice background info. Ya really gets a sense o' the place. Keep on wi' it <_<

Posted

Hmmmmm...

We see's a *bodice ripper* in the make'n says I.

Will you be after do'n appropriate cover art for us? :)

Well, you may not realize it but your looking at the remains of what was once a very handsome woman!

IronBessSigBWIGT.gif

Posted
Heaving bodice..held together..not with laces..but scorpions....darin' any man ta assume liberties..... :ph34r:

(chuckle)

Well now, a proper placed dagger will serve just as rightly girl. :rolleyes:

A Wench such as m'self, says I, who has lived long and endured much, tends to live by a differnt creed:

*Old age and treachery, will overcome youth and skill* :ph34r:

Well, you may not realize it but your looking at the remains of what was once a very handsome woman!

IronBessSigBWIGT.gif

Posted
Hmmmmm...

We see's a *bodice ripper* in the make'n says I.

Will you be after do'n appropriate cover art for us?    :)

I thought pr'haps I'd be askin' YE to pose fer me brush... :rolleyes:

'Course, I ain't no arteest, so's ye might be posin' fer a long time...

...Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum...

~ Vegetius

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