Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"First off, you don't intimidate me," She said looking at him, from her blocked in postion. It was very true, his display of force did not intimidate her, it did something else entirely, but she was not about to admit that. "Second off, who are you to tell me NON!" The last word was shouted so loudly, members of the crew hard at work paused to look up at the noise. "If this is about the . . .other - thing . . . then it's you that has a problem. If you can't work with me, then . . . you need to grow up. I am more then capable of doing my job."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter stood with his hands behind his back, watching the interaction between the two Stewards, a grim look on his face... there was more than just a hint of anger on his features, but he was going to wait before repremanding the two of them...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Placing his hands to brace the rail on either side of her, he leaned forward.

" Non....I will not have you involved in this. I will not allow myself to be distracted worrying about your well being. You will stay here and stay safe. You have nothing but theory as a point of referance, books are just words on pretty paper. I have been present when the battle field is scattered with the bodies of young men who were not even old enough to apply a razor to their chin. I have seen good friends blown from their mount's back to fall in twisted shambles on the blood soaked ground below in some forgien land. You do not know how things can go wrong in an instant and I will not have you in harms way. That is final...It is not up for negotiation, c'est bien copris? Non."

His words were delivered with icy undertone and there was a pause before he spoke again, more softly in manner.

" As to the other...if it is the way you view the matter then so be it."

The Gascon resumed his upright stance, darkened grey sights unwavering from Tudor's lighter hue as he repeated, " So be it..."

Armand turned away to resume his proximity near the Quartermaster.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"Don't you even DARE to walk away from me!" She bellowed at him, then walked forward to close the distance between them as he turned to face her, a slightly annoyed look on his face. Expecting more words of a bull-headed nature, he was more then a little surpirsed when then next sound was of her palm smaking against his cheek. He was even more surpirsed when suddenly his jaw hurt. Before he could comment, the fury-filled words expected from Tudor spilled forth. "How . . . dare . . . you! What makes you think that I am incapable of worrying for my own saftey. How dare you assume that all I know is only theory! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!! You seem to think like everyone else does on this ship, that I am some naive little girl! You've seen battle? Well I've seen it too! Do not even think for a moment I haven't. I have had brothers in arms lose limbs standing next to me in lines . . . I have had . . ." Her voice was cracking from emotions. "I have had men I owe my life to cut down and disembowled in front of me!" She glared up at him. "Don't devalue that just because I'm young and a woman. I am as prepaired as you or any man, to fight, kill and die. Just because you have not seen me do it, does not mean I cannot." She paused, then without warning, belted him again. "And that is for thinking you can order me around!! I answer only to The captain and the quatermaster, and any other officer. Just because you slept with me does not give you the right to tell me what to do!!" Her voice was rising slowly again. "And as to that . . . I don't play the coquette - so my apologies for that. And my apologies for my reaction, which apparently isn't good enough for you. It has been my experience in the past that men prefer when women don't assume their affection the morning after they lay them!" She turned away from him. "Now I am going to go speak to the Quatermaster about where my services are most needed!."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Gascon took her strikes and words without outward reaction, the dark smoulder of twined grey flame were the only betrayal to manner. If the situation had involved another man, Armand might have demanded satisfaction for the degrading actions that she had put into physical action...but, she was a she. There would be no honour to be aquired of regained in the demand of pace and pistol...

Armand said nothing in response, only set his jaw firmly and strode with fluid step to where the Quartermaster had witnessed the affaire. Facing the officer holding current rule, he resumed former stance.

" Monsuier Lasseter, I shall do as you request. You will excuse me as I am in need of making preperations for said actions. Please send word of readiness to depart, I shall be at your whim within the hour."

With a slight incline of head, the Frenchman took a step backwards, pausing only long enough to fix Tudor with a brief look and brief wording.

" As you wish...If I had know that you prefered the treatment of a common doxie....I would have accommodated."

And at that, left their company for quarters below.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor sighed as she watched him go, her breathing slowly becoming even after her tirade. She rubbed her hand over her face and sighed once again. "Bugged that one up but good, didn't I?" She asked mainly to herself, but looked to the Quatermaster for his response. He just shook his head. "If you'll excuse me sir, I have some damage control I need to do. I shall return shortly to get your answwer as to whether or not I go ashore."

Slowly she trod in Armand's path, making her way down to his quaters. She didn't even knock on the door, for fear of being turned away, instead just quietly opened the door and stepped in, seeing Armand gather items he would need on shore. He looked up at her, the same cold stare he had given her on the deck. He just looked at her, didn't say anything.

Avoiding all eye contact, Tudor scuffed her feet on the wood planking of the floor. "Suppose I am a whore." She said with quiet resignation in her tone. "All my life I've fought tooth and nail against becoming one . . . ran away from home, became a mercenary, killed countless men, just so I wouldn't have to suffer a little degredation. Didn't work." She paused and looked up at him, not crying, but looking as close to it as she had ever really been. "Blackwell once said being a whore isn't that diffrent from being a mercenary. The only diffrence is, whores just sell their bodies, mercenaries sell their souls." She sniffed, looked away, then faced him again. "I am sorry. I've never actually had a man care . . . never had a man show me affection. Don't quite know what to do with it. I'm sorry if I hurt you . . .made you think . . ."She trailed. "Damn. I'm wretched at apologising. I guess I don't do it enough." She laughed, shortly, trying to lighten the mood. "I didn't know where you stood, whether it was for one night or . . . I still don't know where you stand, but I've probably buggered up any chance of anything else, so I'll just shut my mouth about it." She paused and swallowed hard. "I shouldn't have done that in front of the crew,"She quickly changed subject to the rest of the argument. "I mean, you had it coming to you . . ." She quickly insisted. "But I shouldn't have done that in front of everyone. You are a man of dignty and I took that dignity, kicked it where it counts, then spat on it. I'll never be able to apologise enough for that."

After saying her peace, she looked up for Armand reaction.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem / The Sloop

The Sloop's company was out numbered as the onslaught reached it's pinnicle and gave in. The hands were herded to the bow, the officers to the quarterdeck and it was there that Fournier stood in blooded adornments taking in the manner of the Master. Four of the Seven had fallen to their French equivelants, but not all of the Pack's number had remained aloft as the carnage had ensued. As conversation took place on Holy Ground one of the number, the Beta known as Herr Montag had taken hidden position and set sight with accompanying blunderbuss. De Servian, a slight man of cold steel expertise and weasle kindred features, had slinked below into the sloop's belly and waited. The Alpha, Herr Ruprecht Buechlem, had squeezed his medium frame and heigth of six feet two inches into another unnoticed nook unnoticed...And it was from here that he centered his aim upon the tall Frenchman that he assumed to be Capitaine.

There was no rush in the pock scarred expression, only a cold patience as he leveled the steel barrel and waited the moment to sieze. And the moment presented itself in short, a clear window of passage opened and the Dutch iron roared as steel ball ventured forth seeking its claim. A claim that was denied as at the last moment, Dominique Lamaire stepped just to the left of where he had stood these past minutes. The steel ball tore through just below shoulder blade placement and continued through chest muscle and on to points unknown. The young Frenchman wore an expression of suprise followed by confussion, as he was bodily spun by steel intention...An intention which failed to pierce the heart of his cousin. The other Frenchmen occupying the sloop's deck were quick to find the thunder's origin as the spent powder smoke betrayed position. Lamaire landed hard on wood surface and laid there gasping as Fournier bent to attend.

The shot was not fatal, though it would show as another scar gained to the collection that the younger man already possesed. Lamaire was immediatly taken over to the Frigate and placed in her Chirurgien'scare. When Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier resumed his duty at hand, there lay a wild bearing in his eyes.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The QuarterMaster stood witness to the tirade from one Steward to the other, hearing every word weather he wanted to or not, finding truth in what he had only guessed at of the relationship between the two...

He nodded to the Gascon as he reported and headed below...

He held his tongue when Ms. Smith made statements of 'damage control' and followed the Frenchman below....

Turning to the crew who had stopped to watch the show his expression darkened...::

Right you lot! Show's over! back ta yer duty 'r I might turn th' lassie's fury on ye!

:: The crew jumped to, some with fear in their eyes with such a threat... ::

Mr. Badger, I shall be below, in the Ward... Prey I have words enough ta make a fine negotiation fer our... cargo...

::He nodded and headed below, down the passageway to the Ward Room...::

[William Brand]

Long after the sounds of fighting had ended above, William heard a single shot ring out. For a moment he thought someone might be executing prisoners, but there was far too much confusion afterward. Shouts and raised voices came down through the muffling planks. They were angry sounds, and William tried to make them out.

"Was that French?"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand paused in preperations and gazed at her without emotion. As she finished her apologies, he shifted the weight of his stance. With a hint of cold propriety he finally responded.

"Mademoiselle, you have stated your views and I have listened with patience." The grey sights drifted to the door then back to her. " You will excuse me, s'il vous plait...I have many things to attend to. I am sure you know the way out."

The Gascon sat down and started laying buff and polish to the pair of boots that rested nearby. Glancing up to see Tudor still lingering, Armand paused in his task.

"Qui, Mademoiselle? Did you desire another, as you Anglais say... "rogering" afore leaving?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Once seated in the armchair at the table, he collected the stack of parchment, ink and quill.... He arrainged them in front of him and stared at the blank sheet infront of him for a good minute, then took up the quill and began to write... it took him a turn of the glass and two sheets of parchment to get his point across with respect... he then folded and sealed the parchment with ribbon and wax, held it on edge, and took a deep breath...::

This better come out wi' a bright side to it...

:: slowly he stood, looked around the room, now straightened from whatever proceeded with the abduction of the Captain... He noted the empty places where weapons had hung, and the now repaired window. He bowed his head, closed his eyes... took a deep breath and lifted his chin...::

Forward... into th' breech my brave fellows...

::He walked with purpose out and back onto deck, into the waist to wait for the assembly of those crew who were to head ashore on the 'diplomatic mission'...::

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Armand paused in preperations and gazed at her without emotion. As she finished her apologies, he shifted the weight of his stance. With a hint of cold propriety he finally responded.

"Mademoiselle, you have stated your views and I have listened with patience." The grey sights drifted to the door then back to her. " You will excuse me, s'il vous plait...I have many things to attend to. I am sure you know the way out."

The Gascon sat down and started laying buff and polish to the pair of boots that rested nearby. Glancing up to see Tudor still lingering, Armand paused in his task.

"Qui, Mademoiselle? Did you desire another, as you Anglais say... "rogering" afore leaving?"

Tudor's eyes glinted in a mixture of hurt and rekindled anger. "If I thought it would do any good I'd smack you again for that comment." She glared at him. "As it is though, I'm trying to make things right so we don't end up hating each other. I don't apologise often, so a little respect for what I just said would be apprechiated, monsieur." She said, steel to her tone. She then paused and swallowed, then across the room at him again. The eyes that had been of a strong-willed woman for most of the apology were now shadowed, more like a scared, hurt little girl. "What do I have to do to make this up to you?"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

" Making up to me, mademoiselle?" he voiced incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. "Please Mademoiselle Smith...I have no time to discuss this matter now. If I return alive from this mission of need, I will consider a discussion. Now, if you will be so kind...I need to clear my thoughts and prepare my adornments for the venture."

The Gascon resumed his attendance of boot blacking; acting unconcerned to her presence, though at the same time, very aware of it.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"Aye . . ." She looked at him intently for a moment, then crossed to where he sat, taking the boots out of his hands and tossing them aside. Then with deliberation she straddled his lap, put her hands on either side of his head and lowered her mouth onto his. Her toung gently prying his mouth open and dueling angrily with his.

She then quickly broke off the impassioned kiss, then stood. "We'll discuss it later." And she left the room for her own quaters.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

First things first, the two men were not locked up the constiple was not around town which direction would they expect my retreat to be? Can I go back to the Harbor Porlamar. I think not, (a thought) maybe if I can skirt around a certain ambush point and get behind and bye these pirates.....I gathered two bota bags filled them with good water and headed down to the docks found a fisherman who said he'd take me across the inlet to the port of Punta de Piedras where it would be a much shorter trip back to Porlamar. We set sail moments after my working him down to two gold coins for passage. I went below to stowe my things and looked right into the barrel of a pistol being held by one of the two men from last nights arrest. I turned to back up the stairs I had just come down and feigned a fall grabbing the handrail with one hand and his head with the other I crashed his temple into the wall and pulled the pistol out of his hand and threw it out the door and into the sea. I then punched him in the mouth merely for messing with me again. He went unconcious (the weak kneed land lubber) I went back up unto the deck and walked over to the ships captain who's eyes were quite large and picked him up and threw him overboard then tied off the wheel went below picked up the lug woke him walked him up on deck and then pushed his stupid fat arse overboard as well. Looking around I realized it were a right nice little sail boat I owned. four maybe five hours to Porlamar I figured so I decided to head south south east tied off the wheel and went below to find some charts!

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem / The Sloop

The German shootist was forcibly dragged forward then thrown to knees before Fournier. A silence fell heavily as crews of both ships watched on to see what would be the next act revealed on quarterdeck stage. Nothing was exchanged in word between the Frenchman and the German, they just looked at each other with quiet acknowledgement. Minutes passed as sea breezes played above rigging and finally, Fournier quietly spoke the name of an officer nearby. A short conversation took place betwixt the two and though Ruprecht Buechlein was no expert to the ways of Fracois, enough was gleaned to force his actions. The German made fast to gain his feet in futile attempt in attack, a feat that only accomplished his being grabbed from behind by four pairs of hands; four pairs of hands that slammed him back to the decks and held him there.

Capitaine Fournier ignored the disruption, simply taking from his companion in conversation's proffer of service pistol. Turning without show of emotion, Jean-Micheale looked down into the eyes of the pock scarred face and extending his arm, rested the muzzle on German brow...then pulled the trigger.

[William Brand]

Another report of gunpowder from an even smaller weapon.

"That was an execution." William thought, assured by the silence that followed it. "Someone has paid for an insolent and foolish mistake or an injury that required balancing."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Fournier handed the pistol back to its' owner, then stepped over the body without further acknowledgement and continued forward to the bow. As he neared the sloop's remaining crew, he was met with a mixture of expressions, but what few looked him in the eye were quick to drop centering to the deck below. The Frenchmen standing at watch around the mixed herd kept military posturing as the Capitaine looked over the surrounded group.

From within the mixture, a young voice sounded in broken French and as one of Requiem'screw reached to back hand the offender, his action was halted by Fournier's glance. With a motioning of hand, a boy of around four and ten years was brought forward of his companions. His manner was nervous and scared, but with unshurity in wording he related that there was a passenger held below in the bilge. Fournier scrutinized the lad momentarily, then questioned his knowledge of such. The reply stating that one of the boy's duties was to bring food and water to the man. Fournier nodded and thanked the other then waved to one of his officers to follow him below.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Grasping the three rolled parchments I found stowed over head in the cabin I went back up to take the wheel and found the wind had come up much harder from the west and the little boat had turne almost due east and islands were easily seen. I unrolled the top chart and found I was headed toward the isla Coche Showing maybe 6 leagues and a seemingly decent sized city named San Pedro de Coche.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: As Armand approached, Mr. Lasseter turned and gave a close-mouthed smile...::

I see ye be a'ready dressed fer battle, as it were.... very fine indeed...

Down ta business... this packet contains the previous letter a' intoduction, an apology fer missin' his request fer to dine wi' him, and th' offerin' o' Mr. Scully fer a Letter o' Marque...The Letter shall be writ to me, as I fear the name 'William Brande, or Hollande' may get us nowhere... I would also like ye ta intregue wi' whome'er, make it known tha' a 'certain commodity' was stolen from our captain... by some Dutchmen... mayhaps some information can be further garnered about th' theft o' the Cap'n... I trust you understand... And, I wish the procedin's ta go as quickly as possible, therefore, yer gonna take Mr. Scully wi' ye under guard, keep 'im hidden, an' retrieve him once all requests have been fulfilled... here is a sum o' coin ta further yer travels...

Mr. Brisbane, Styles, Franklin, and Tucker will be under the command o'Mr. PEW , who will be under yer command for this foray... I wish you th' best o' luck... for all our sakes...

Mr. PEW... yer ta keep Scully alive.... he is worth little to us dead, I should say worth little ta th' spanish dead... Keep 'im bound an' gagged at all times... I's countin' on ye... now go retrieve th' bastard from th' bildge... check ta make sure 'e be all trussed up tightly....

Off ye go... Gods Speed...

::He watched as the Able seamen trod below to retrieve the prisioner, then shifted his sights back to Armand...::

I prey all is righted betwixt ye an' th' lass? Weather it is 'r not... I shall not speak of it... I just 'ope it shan't cloud yer mind...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

with the wind perfect to maximise my speed I straightened out my direction and continued to sail south south east toward San Pedro de Coche. like time were sitting still the wind in me hair and the sun in my face i like this feeling of freedom. What could possibly be better? I headed on past the tip of isla de margarita a point named Punto Mangle after the raids on the spanish galleons that took place by pirates hidden by the mango trees outstretched onto the finger penninsula. I was on the water about and hour and headed into the port and dropped the top sail turned the sloop and let the wind blow me right up to the empty dock and I jumped out and tied her off. Children came running down the streets yelling and chattering and too were the women of the town and then I could see men as well all with large smiles and the children all jumping up and down so excited. I figured out finally what they were saying almost a chant. He's here, he's here the prayers are answered our salvations be......

[William Brand]

William was all but face down in the bilge when the voices arrived in the lower holds. The French that passed between the unseen individuals was unmistakable, though at first, he thought he recognized none of them. Then he heard Fournier speak. It was his commanding tone as much as his voice that rendered him familiar. William couldn't help but smile.

Soon after, young hands and old hands alike were taking away timbers and shattered barrels. More than once he heard profane exclamations at the smell and destruction. When he was last exhumed from that grave place in the hold, he was met by the surprised faces of Fournier and one of his a subordinates.

William smiled gratefully through a broken face. It hurt to smile, but he was grateful enough that he would have shed tears anyway. To be rescued from absolute indignity into the hospitality of an equal was more than he could have hoped for. He also couldn't help but think on the justice he might have upon some of those who had left him in this place. He had thought it would be enough just to be rescued, but some part of him still wanted to crush Muller.

"Fournier...if I spend any more time in your company, I will be obligated to learn La Marseillaise."

He wept and laughed then. He was too tired not to.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I stopped as I saw the need to sit in the street and let the children gather around hugging and tugging on my robes. I questioningly looked at the farmer men one of whom did come forward and exclaim it is true you are come to fill our empty parish! I stood allowing the children to take my hands and take me up the street then left off toward a small hill atop of which was a beautiful white church a few kids ran to it and were ringing the bell. Not much I could do in the face of this excitement I was drowned by the need to give....

I backed in toward the oversized hard wood doors and addressed the populous as I could see more still coming up the street. I held my hands outstretched and a hush a quiet of perfect proportion did entice my words of faith and wisdom gathering the lot of them and taking them into the fire of hells own travels where I was nerely killed and twice faced with life threatening decisions just to get here and to work with them each and every day forever more.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Jean-Micheale was taken aback momentarily to the sight beheld. Returning the damaged smile, he reached forward to William and placed a brotherly hand upon his shoulder. The fire of amber sight scrutinzed the situation rapidly before he spoke to his companion relaying wants. More of the wreckage was removed carefully, and Fournier was careful to conceal his thoughts of current surround.

" We do seem to meet in strange circumstances, non? I would ask how it is you have found yourself in this perdicament, but it can wait. I am sure that a good meal and fresh clothing are more to your need now. I have a surgeon aboard who is of utmost talents."

Making note of the series of ropes and knots binding William's movement, Fournier called two men forward to rid their existance.

" Much better I would think...Shall we depart to mine humble vessel. I cannot say that the accommodations are as grand as these, but they will have to do."

[William Brand]

He almost fell over twice as they uprighted him.

"My legs have been dead to me for days. A combination of the ropes and my stay here in storage, I expect."

They understood in a moment and additional subordinates were sent for to carry him into the open air above. He went up wrapped in spare sailcloth, both to bear him with better care and to stave off some of the smell. He came up to the weatherdecks like a leper king borne by many servants. He was given a moment in his passage to eye the crew that had survived Fournier's attack. Standing among them were a few of his abusers. Chief amongst these was the traitorous Muller. Nothing then could have stopped the smile that crossed his damaged features. It spread like a storm in his bruised face. It was a mouth of bloodied teeth and pure vengeful joy.

William mouthed a solitary word to Muller. "Soon."