Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

The Gascon's soothing words did nothing to dispell the rage that was built up in Tudor's small frame. "LEMME GO!!" She bellowed loudly stuggling to work her way out of Armand's grasp. "I'm not going to let some scummy bastard take the captain!" She screamed with fury as she started pommling Armand with her fists, trying to loosen his hold on her.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Enduring her wrath, Armand's brow furrowed briefly and reaching the conclusion that the small girl was not about to let up, he released her just long enough to regain purchase about her waist. With one quick movement, Tudor was lifted from her footing and put over one shoulder. The Gascon smiled as her protests became more intense, but as reply, he simply turned and went back to where they had been standing moments before.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::from down the passage way the angered shout of 'Lemme go!' is heard in the Sick Ward, at this, Mr. Lasseter storms out, quickly coming to the scene of Armand and Tudor... Armand with Tudor over his shoulder...::

Now see here Smith! I'll 'ave none o' this!! Y'ain't goin' nowheres til we know more... Ain't noone getin' off th' ship wi'out my permission... this ain't th' time fer rashness bein' in an unfriendly port!!! We's out gunned, out numbered! Best we can do is run iffn' need be! I ain't leavin' til we know e'erythin' we can! So settle yerse'f!

::His face was red with rage as he repremanded the Steward, his hands clenched at his waist... He looked Armand in the face...::

Get 'er out o' here... take her... take her somewhere an' settle 'er down til I can suss out this mess...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

With still much protestations and fidgiting, Tudor continued to rail against everyone from her postion atop Armand's shoulders. She sneered at the quartermaster as Armand started walking away. Just for good measure she fisted his back a few more times then paused. "Where are we going?" She demanded sullenlly.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

" As you wish, mon ami," The Gascon replied calmly as the dim lighting of the surround helped to mask the expression of smugness that played over his features. Ignoring Tudor's abuse, he made no indication of intention in regard to destination. Shifting her weight for a more comfortable hold, Armand turned and quietly walked toward where he knew Miss Smith's cabin to be.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor grunted as She was dropped uncerimoniously on her bunk in the closet she had turned into sleeping quaters for herself.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I wish I could say that the main meal was a hit but what little words be spoken fer weren't in the cooks direction. Something strange is afoot here Ted, Aye indeed the saying came back as Ciaran raced to the lookouts post to set up 'is own surveilance the time were just right to need nothing more than anything. A sign ..... a sign the captain be ok......... That's all.......

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the Gascon walks away with Ms. Smith on his shoulder, the QuarterMaster turns back to the Surgery, where Tempest stood... his rage abaited, he drops his shoulders...::

Fergive me... I gotta head topside... mayhaps ye'd be so kind as ta keep tha' bottle safe fer th' time bein'...

::He smiled weakly at her, then turned and made his way to the deck, finding it wet with rain...::

A'right Lads! Keep a sharp eye! Have a care wi' th' powder and slowmatch!

Pass th' word fer Rummy an' 'er mates!

::He then headed to the quarterdeck, back to the sternrail...::

[Pew]

::Eric throws his shoulder into the large heavy wooden door. It swings open on an easy hinge an dnearly bashes into Ilexs companion.

"Mr. Pew, Mr . . .Franklin was it?"

"Bloody 'ell Ilex, wot the 'ells goin on? How'd you know Cap'n Hollande was aboard?" I bark at her.

Never turning her seat she continues to stare out the window. Her rotund companion closes the door but it fails to latch due to Mr. Franklin's unceremonious knock. He removes himself from the room with a wave of the lady's hand.

"Did you know I have counted nearly a dozen musketeers on that ship Pew? How good do you think their aim is?"

Eric stomps to her desk and slams both fists down nearly splitting the table in two. "DAMMIT woman, our Cap'ns gone missin' and I think you have something to do wit it.!!" shouts Mr. Franklin.

At this point the door bursts open and one of the women runs in, "Me lady, they're inna street, and a breakin' down the door!!" A few volleys of musket fire are heard outside and the sound of breaking doors and tables fills the hallway. "Mary, take these men out the back door. I'll 'old them here!" Mary races to the side table and flings it aside, revealing a small passage. "We're not finished Ilex", I told her. "Then stay and fight", she replies pulling her pistol out from under her. Eric nods and unsheaths his cutlass. I pull out both of my pistols And hold them at my shoulders.

Ilex can barely finish her thought when the door crashes open and a squad of soldiers pour through. She ducks around a corner, counts to three and then swung back around shoving a table into the approaching throng. With a quick exchange of pistol fire, I empty both of my pistols into the chest of the closest soldier. Ilex does the same but cathed her foe with a back hand of a small dagger hidden in her wrist. Eric kicks the table aside and shoves the bodies into the hallway.

"AQUI, AQUI!!" we here from the hallway as more soldiers begin to fill the bordello. At the front doors, two musketeers suddenly appear. "MUSKETEERS!!" I shout. Eric ducks behind the wall, and Ilex jumps back into the room still filled with smoke. Two shots ring out embedding themselves in the wall surrounding the room we are in. Diving off of the floor, I clash swords with one of the soldiers. Bigger and better trained, I begin to get forced back. Eric parries a swipe at the soldiers head and follows his thrust with a dagger in his other hand. Ilex opponent's blade slides down her own, cuting her in the upper arm. Eric rams the butt of his cutlass into the skull of another soldier, "We need ta be gettin' outta 'ere!!" Ilex glanced around quickly, "The passageway, NOW!!" Removing my cutlass from the breastplate of a soldier, he nicks my shoulder as he slumps to the ground. Kicking the body aside we slam the office door shu., Eric, Ilex and I shove the table behind it and stand what we can to slow the force of the squads charge.

Eric's frame barely fits within the tiny passage. Sheathing her weapons, Ilex gathers what papers she can. I slip into the crawlspace and catch a glimpse of Ilex tearing off a piece of her infamous red curtains soaking it in oil and setting it to the candle on a sill. She drops the tattered cloth onto a stack of old charts on the floor and takes a pensive look at what she had created, and had now destroyed.

Ramming against the doors continues. "ILEX, NOW", we yell at her. Tucking her papers into her coat she looks back to see the curtains now ablaze. Hurring to the passage, she ducks in and begins to crawl to the rear of the bordello. Eric looks back at me and grins, "Mr. Lasseter, is gonna 'ave our 'eads for this one."

"Aye, but we 'aven't spent a penny yet. . .", I smile at him. ::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Promising to take care of the Potin', the Surgeon watched as Dorian took his leave. Returning to her former seating, she mused over current happenings and shook her head unconsciencly. There were too many grey areas and although one could sight motives on many angles, it still gave no direct indication of logical summary. Glancing to the bottle

left in her care, the Surgeon's attention refocused on its' owner.

Leaning back into chair's support, she reached for the goblet and finished off what remained in its' elegant confine. Quietly, the muffled sound of rain eeked its' patter to her hearing.

[Pew]

::As Pete Straw sat plotting the spaces and names of what ships he could make out, he hears squads of soldiers run by Las Aves.

"Not good", he says to himself.::

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As Mr. Lasseter stood looking out over the stern, a hail from the lookout in the top was heard... the glow of fire was seen from the portside town...::

Aye! Where abouts be th' fire?

:: Ciaran looked down at the Quartermaster and pointed... Mr Lasseter pulled the ships glass from the binnacle and directed it to where he was shone.... indeed there was the glow of flames, not right on the front of the warf, but back a block or so...::

Hmmm.... Lardy, don't let it be th' doin's o' who we gots ashore....

Mr. Badger! Make a bouy ready... we may 'ave ta slip th' cable... unless ye think we c'n up anchor quiet enough... Make ready ta do both... dunno if we gonna need ta make a rather hasty departure.... I be right back...

:: Mr. Lasseter put the glass away, headed down to the Wardroom and sorted through the charts, finding the one that showed the area they were in.... he noted a cove not too far from this port, a possible waiting spot out of the way of most of the sea traffic...::

[William Brand]

William was in and out of consciousness for days, but he was only able to retain fragments from one waking to another. What he rediscovered each time was this, he was a prisoner. He had been taken off the Watch Dog by traitorous means into the waiting hands of greedy strangers. His captors had taken it upon themselves to beat him soundly each time he had awaken. He now bore the marks of at least five sound thrashings. His face was so badly swollen, that he couldn't imagine anyone would recognize him when compared to his wanted poster. This caused him to smile despite his situation, and his lip split an bled as it spread into a grin.

"Vat is so funny?"

William rolled his one open eye towards the sound of the voice. Muller was sitting on a coil of heavy cable smoking a pipe and looking both sullen and satisfied at the same time. Then William remembered it all again.

Muller had come into the ward room to beg a favor of him. He had crossed behind the table then, and when he had looked up, Muller had a pistol on him. Muller had then said what was no doubt a rehearsed and often practiced string of threats and triumphant declarations.

"You pulled a pistol on me..."

"Ja." Muller smiled. It was the smile of a man with little imagination and almost no depth of personality. It was a smile dulled by pettiness and old grudges. It bespoke so much of the man and the druggery of his existence.

"We've had this conversation at least twice before...?" William asked, already knowing they had.

"Ja. You keep forgetting?" He said with mock concern.

"Aye." William said, tasting the blood running from his split lip. "But I don't mind. Just as long as I get to insult your foolishness all over again."

Muller did not smile. He made a kind of weak, scoffing sound that showed how poor he was at comebacks. 'Fournier would have eaten this man alive', William thought. He could feel the gentle sway of whatever boat he had been brought aboard. He wondered if he had been at sea for very long. He remembered being smothered under heavy sacks of grain in a hellish overland trip to some other part of La Margarita, though he could barely remember how he came ashore. That may have been the only wise decision that Muller and the others had made.

Mister Lasseter was never one to let an absence go unnoticed. He was probably combing the island even now, unless he had already discovered the departure of whatever ship this was. If not, the ship could be days, even weeks at sea before they learned of this ship's departure.

"How long have we been at sea?" William asked casually, as if discussing the weather.

"Does dis matter?" Muller replied.

"Am I tasking the limits of your conversation, Mister Muller?" William retorted, in a tone that was mocking in its sympathy. Muller seemed unsure if he should be angry or not. "It isn't being a captive that I mind so much. It is the company."

Muller looked angrier then. He made as if to stand, but didn't. William couldn't help continuing. He hated being subject to small men. He often felt it was better to be dead or unconsious, then be subject to the dull gloating of a feeble enemy. He continued. "Give me the company of a dangerous and clever tyrant to that of a three legged dog that has choked itself once to often at the end of a tether."

Muller did stand up then. William went on. "And give me the three legged dog before the avenging idiot that stands before me now."

"You vill not..."

"What?" William spat. "I vvvvill not what? Speak ill of my enemies? Speak ill of the dead? Mock the name of Van..."

He was cut short then. Muller was already striking him. As he slipped back into the darkness he thought, 'Just as well.'

[Pew]

::Pete Straw collected his rudimentary charts and maps he'd been compiling and stuffed them in his overcoat. Running outside, he slips past the last squad of soldiers heading towards the wharf. He looked down the street and sees The Red Curtain now ablaze.

"Bloody 'ell."

He begins to run towards the bordello when he hears a muffled hiss from the alley next to the Las Aves . .

"Hssst, Pete, o'er 'ear"::

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter watched as the flames grew to a point of being seen without the aid of the 'glass... Even at the distance they were from shore, he could hear the chaos that insued in the port... Training the glass on the warf, he found the Longboat still tied up, but saw no sign of the dingy... with all the other shipping maybe it was hidden from his view, he thought....::

A'right lads... get yer arses back 'ere....

Mr. Badger, make ready ta win th' anchor, now!

Sailors aloft! shake out the main tops'ls!

::After having his orders, he ran the 'return to ship' flag up the mainmast and sent an able seaman up to the top of said mast with a lantern, to wave it and make the flag easily seen...::

[Pew]

::Pete follows the voice into the darkness. Eric tugs his sleeve and draws him into the corner.

"Please tell me you lot 'ad nuttin' ta do with 'at", Pete asks.

"Us, no, 'twas 'er", Eric points at Ilex crouched in the shadows. "Who were those men?" he continues, directing his next comment at Ilex.

"The gov'nor and I had a . . .well an agreement. He didn't come through on his side, so I stopped paying him. Much to his dismay . . . " Ilex explained sullenly, "now 'e'and I 's not getting anything."

Pete seemed confused for a minute. "Lady Ilex,' tis our ships cartographer, Pete Straw", I quickly introduce them. "Pete, this is Lady Ilex. She's a bit of a . . .well . . business woman 'ere on Margarita."

A brief handshake is interrupted by the sound of more soldiers heading towards the bordello. "We need ta be maken haste back to the Watch Dog. Mr. Lasseter will no doubt want to be apprised of our new situation," I quickly utter.

Staying within the shadows as to not make ourselves wholly visable to any prying eyes, we move towards the dingy, still docked below the pescaderia. The rain has subsided momentarily only to make our footsteps louder than they appear. Most of the townspeople have run to the Red Curtain to see it engulfed in flames.

Climbing down the ladder into the dingy, I cast off the bow and Pete casts off the stern as Eric readies the craft for the quick trip to the Watch Dog. Ilex stands in the stern of the dingy watching her business go up in flames. She pulls a small bottle out of her boot and takes a long draw from the flask. "Dammit all" she mutters.::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Tudor grunted as She was dropped uncerimoniously on her bunk in the closet she had turned into sleeping quaters for herself.

Armand lit the small dark lamp which acted as illumination to the cramped quarters. Extinguishing the match, the cool of grey vision settled on the petite form occupying the swinging cot. The sullen expression was still ruling Tudor's features as she dared an attempt to stare the Gascon down, which was only successfull in urging a slight shake of head and an amused chuckle. Not the reaction she had wanted, her eyes narrowed a bit as he moved to the doorway and casually leaned against the frame.

"You!....", Tudor's features gained a ruddiness with her frustration and lack of words.

"Moi?....Oui?" he urged her, the look of amusement doubling with the appearance of smile, Tudor growled in frustration. Armand shifted his stance, crossing arms over chest.

"Ecouter qn, s'il vous plait..." He trapped her eyes with his own. " You had mentioned before your knowledge of stratagies and the ways of battle..." She cocked her head a degree to the left at his wording then nodded her assent.

"Then, mon petit colombe, you should be well trained in the cardinal rules of engagement, oui?" He stepped closer, eyes never wavering from her own.

" Yes, but I don't understand what that has to do with..."

"It has everything to do with the now, ma cherie." he said, cutting off her verbose. Moving to where she was, he sat down on the small cot and kept his peace for a moment while Tudor looked on in puzzlement. Focusing on her face again, he continued.

"What is learned by the writtings of great minds should be looked upon as referance...an example. It does not always apply to the field or the square, remember that. But, I can tell you from experience, and it applies in this situation, mon colombe... One never rushes the field unprepared. If you know nothing of your adversary, you will fall most assuradly. Only as an act of sheer desperation does one charge forward without knowing the lay of the land and one's nemesis. When that is the only option available. Do you understand me, mademoiselle...?"

" But, I..."

"Non, petit...You would be served up as a pretty prize if I had allowed you to follow your head. There are too many undetermined areas in this and I cannot allow you to place yourself in harm's way do to a moment of unclear thinking."

The Gascon reached over to her near hand, and gently raising it, brushed it's back with his lips. The grey pools focused on her own, " Do you understand, ma cherie? Cooler heads prevaile, I have witnessed enough to know that to be a truth."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Not taking her eyes from Armand, a shadow crossed Tudors face. "Cooler heads may prevail, but delaying action gets people killed." Her eyes seemed far away, as if in a time and place past. "I refuse to stand by and see my captain killed aga . . ."She quickly cut the last word off. "I refuse to stand by and see my captain killed." She repeated with more steel to her voice, her sight finally refocusing on Armand's grey eyes.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

" This can also be true, I have seen both come to flourish..." He drew a heavy breath. " But, I can assure you that rushing in will not save the day, petit."

The Gascon chose not to acknowledge her slip of the tongue and acted as if nothing had been revealed.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

In a final flourish of rage, Tudor pulled her hand from his grasp, and with an enraged battlecry, she gave her best attempt at giving the wall a black eye. And just for good measure she hit it for a second time, not noticing the skin starting to tear on her fist. After a final squeal of anger, Tudor looked down at her hand, and her face wrinkled in pain.

Armand looked at her, affectionate amusement and concern in his features. "I think you hurt yourself more then you hurt the wall, mon cher." He said, then looked at the wall and was just a little surprised to see a slight imprint on the thick wood wall, in the shape of Tudor's fist. He looked at her again, and took her hand into his and gently kissed the scarred knuckles.

With a look of curiosity, Tudor looked up at Armand, and gently pulled her hand out of his, and with fleetness of movement wrapped it in his chestnut hair, and moved in until her lips were just barely touching his. "Stop being a gentleman . . ." She whispered slowly.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Her sudden action and intent caught Armand off guard, his thought process whirled as he gauged the current situation and Tudor's proximity. The cool of grey sight focused on her own and nodding to her request, Armand gently removed her hand from tress hold.

"Mademoiselle...a gentleman always does as a lady requests." He side-stepped her, placing a hand on the small door that accessed the room. Glancing to her briefly, " Being bound by my up-bringing, I shall do as you wish...If, mademoiselle, that is what you truly wish..."

A smile that hinted feral manner fleeted the Frenchman's lips in answer to her challenge, then the door was securely shut...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Hearing the commotion on board and the lean caused by the crew watching what I was soon to find out a fire on shore, I went above to find the commotions cause.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The QuarterMaster paced the holy ground, while the men strained at the capstan, winning the anchor from the harbor's floor, he occasionally looked towards shore, hoping to see the St. Kitt with MasterGunner Petee and his crewmen and the dingy with Mr. PEW and company.... looking aloft he watched as the tops'ls were lowered, hanging like baggy draperies that once drawn tight would catch the slight breeze and take them out of the bay... looking shoreward again he saw a small boat moving through the dark water, taking the 'glass he sighted it...::

Ah! Mr. PEW! With an extra passenger? A woman no less.... Now, where be Mr. Youngblood... damn his eyes...

::He spied along the waterfront, seeing the townsfolks running towards the flaming buildings to either try to dowse the flames, or to watch it burn...::

[Pirate Petee]

*Leaning against a small wall on the roof of an inn. Occasionally peeking his head over the wall, with his spyglass to his eye and then lowering his head to take notes of gun emplacements around the bay. He hears commotion over his shoulder. Turning his head he spots a blazing inferno in the vicinity of the bordello. Worried, he turns his attention to the commotion on the street, towards the fire. Groups of people gather below and soldiers run to the location in formation.*

This whole bloody ports gonna go up in smoke.

*Standing up he looks to the watch dog and sees the sails being set. Starting to panic, he looks to the cutter to see two silhouettes sailing it out of the harbor.*

Oh bloody e’ll.

* He moves over to the edge and looks down into the alley, where his two gunners he came ashore with stood there smoking pipes, waiting as look outs. He grabbed the rope he had tied to the chiminy of the inn and climbed down into the alley. After explaining the situation, they drew their pistols and made their way to the shore.*

[Rummy3]

I pays a visit to Mr Hawks workroom to find him deeply focused in his trade. He lifts his head and smiles saying he was just about to take a reprive from the labor of his love and have a drynk. He offers me a stool and asks me to join him for a moment. More than glad to take a break meself, I join him and explain my plan to replace the glass of the broken window - with his help, of course. He nods his head and agrees saying, it's been a while since he has done any glazing, but he remembers the task well.