Pyrates of the West Coast

[William Brand]

First Watch aboard the Watch Dog (8:00 PM - 12:00 AM)

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand had followed the back and forth pacing of William with casual interest from where he sat near the quarterdeck. The evening air had proven to much a temptation to keep himself below decks and with the earlier controled chaos put to rest, the weather decks had be come inviting.

The china cup was refilled with Venicien delight almost marking with perfect time William's turn of heel and change of direction. It was to the metrinome rythem of sole to wooden planking, that the Gascon pondered the next turn of events on the horizon. There was no doubt or question in his mind as to the finalization of bargins struck. Days were numbered in regard to how long the near shoreline would be common backdrop. The Captain reversed course, once again and Armand observed that the Master of this floating domaine was indeed deep in the clutches of private contemplations. The expression in view reflected what took place in cranial encompassment.

The Gascon allowed his attention to center on the kindred vessel that rocked gently in evening waters. There was a small amount of longing that raised within his soul; not a desire to join the company and leave the one he now kept. It was more a matter of being amongst his own kind, for the Motherland and her ways called like a siren to his heart. Armand held nothing in the way of ill will, nor air of judgement towards current companions, but he longed to be resubmursed amongst his own.

Recentering to the lone figure that continued in steadfast pacing, Armand wondered how and when the matter of his own destiny should be breeched and revealed. He would bide time. When issues pending in regard to this floating nation and her citizens were placed in security, he would aproach the now pacing figure...

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Dorian had spent much of his off duty time in his quarters giving much thought to the recent happenings aboard the ship. He had stood and watched with a certain pleasure as Captain William had shot Mr. Muller, then sewed the wound up. Once finished, he had him confined in the forecastle to the jeers and personal insults of the crew. Mr. Lasseter had no issues with what had been done, as a point of fact, he had much the same ideas in mind as the Captain had inacted... His mind strayed to the other prisoner on board, the 'Lady' Ilex... under his eyes he had her confined in the bilges, beaten bloody, and nearly eaten by sharks... What would be the final act to end their lives? Who would do whatever was decided upon? A quick pistol shot to the head would work, but to many it would be too quick... too easy... Dorian had seen people tortured to death in several different ways, some of which turned his stomache, just to think about it... Yes, he had tortured people himself for information or retrobution, but never to their deaths... Woalding had been an easy, yet efficient means, using a bit of line or a strip of cloth run around the head and a stick run through to twist the line or cloth tightly around the head across the temples... adding knots at the temples would further the pain... If tools were handy, having pliers to pull fingernails off, or using a mallot to flatten fingertips or toes... He had seen many forms used by shipmates while under the crown... the so called civilized nation...

Shaking the ghosts out of his head, Dorian stood, brushed off his clothes and left his quarters in search of some fresh air to clear his head...

As he made his way onto the deck, he noticed Armand standing near the mainmast pinrail. His eyes were looking toward the quarterdeck, so Dorian truned to see what it was that held his interest so... Seeing the Captain on the holy ground, pacing to and fro, he knew it was he who Armand was watching. With a slight nod, the QuarterMaster walked forward, up to the forecastle. He stepped inside and waited a moment, waiting if the vermin housed within was yet awake. No motion or verbal assault came, just a shallow breathing sound. Walking further into the depths, a foul smell wafted past as he closed the distance to the form of the traitor, Muller. A cruel smile spread on Mr. Lasseter's lips as he gently stepped forward onto the fingers of Muller's right hand, slowly he shifted his weight onto the foot, finally a sharp intake of breath followed bya jerking motion, then a gasp of pain told the QuarterMaster that Muller had awakened...::

Well, well... yer still wi' th' livin'.... tha's a goode n' bad thing fer ye, innit?

::Without waiting for an answer he turned away and headed back out into the sunlight, heading for the water barrel forward of the main mast...::

[William Brand]

William noticed the second arrival of Mister Lasseter on the weather decks and ceased his pacing. He turned on one heal and stopped with his hands behind his back.

"Mister Lasseter."

"Cap'n."

"I trust that all of our arrangements ashore are going well."

Mister Lasseter affirmed that each errand for supplies had come off without interference and that he hoped to hear from the party which had gone ashore in search of news regarding the Monsignor. William added a few necessities to the list of ship's needs and they passed into a discussion of La Margarita. This accomplished, William retired to his quarters until the time should come that they would go to see the Don.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The swaying motion of chase and four placed a wax seal on lethargy. A combination of late hour, heavy meal and baccanalian pursuits only laid foundation to condition. Jean-Micheale glanced across coach interior to where cousin companion lay consumed in sleep's whim. This return to habour's local proved later than those before and would be a cruel dealing with the day's demand.

A small rut caught rear right wheel, sending shudder through the rolling structure and received low grumblings from the younger passenger. A brief comment that dissipated quickly to change of position and return of deepened breathing. Fournier smiled with inner amusement being well aware of the younger's venture of wine and women through the evening's ealier hours; also being aware of the tithe of reckoning that would show in the near future.

Nearing the Don's private quay, the coach mannaged to locate and encounter another rut. This, unlike the former, jarred the land vessel with viscious intent and gained the full attention of Lamaire. Sitting bolt upright, verbose was issued of nonvirtuous notion and was immediately followed by painful contortion of facial expression. Wine in excess was not a demon that gave ill after effect to either passenger...With one exception to ruling.

Fournier chuckled quietly while fixing kindered with look of knowing, shook head to the evils conjured and utter forth one word.

" Medeira..."

"Oui...Nom d'une pipe." The other replied just above whisper.

"You realize that we are to be in attendance this coming eve for the audience betwixt Don Vasquez and Capitaine Brand?" Came the next statement in matter of fact tone.

An exhalation of pained exaspiration sounded from opposit corner; crowned by this alone.

" Foutu..."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Finding himself on deck, Dorian rounded up several of the crew to fill the final orders of supplies requested by William. the six men took to task and were soon over the side into one of the boats. Mr. Lasseter turned and headed to the main hatch to check on the progress of stowing down the supplies in the hold. Most had been accomplished earlier, but there was still several items that needed to be stowed away...

His mind was taken from the processes as the ships bell was rung eight times, the change to the first dog watch...::

Hmmm... best be gettin' ready fer th' trip ta th' Don's estate..... still several hours away, but...

:: he turned from his tasks and headed aft, ::

Mr. Badger, I shall be in m'quarters fer a short while...

::The Boatswain nodded and knuckled his forehead at the QuarterMaster, and so Dorian headed below...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

And time coursed forward,...undaunted, unheeding to the want or whim of mere mortals who strove to dictate and capture its bearing. Day rolls to night and night trudges forward and retreats to the change of guard signifying another day. The rulings of sun and moon giving order to all that wander the terrain below. Dawn came forth in full blush to the endeavors and wanton pursuit of Sol who's golden cloak dismissed her shades of Caribbean hues. The harbour and surround drew itself from sleepy vissage to the fevor and actions of tasks and duties. The symphony of Life rising to crest and announcing newest stanza.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Dorian spent an hour and a half brushing down and straightening his finest clothes, then once satisfied he dressed. It was awkward trying to see himself in the small hand mirror he used for shaving, but it was all he had. The black coat with silver buttons sat well on his shoulders. The embroidery in dark red about the cuffs, collar and button holes looked well. Under it his blue wesket sat well. It had been some time since he had worn the black knee breeches, but they still fit well enough. He hoped his cotton stockings were overlooked as he had no silk ones, and the shoes felt odd, going so long without wearing them. The only thing that bothered him was his hat... no matter how much he brushed it, the salt stains refused to completely disappear.

He left his cabin still brushing the hat, not watching as his mortuary sword caught on the door frame, halting his movement. With a silent curse, he reset himself and continued down the passageway heading towards the Surgery, maybe the goode Doctor had a remedy for the stains...

He knocked gently on the door, and slowly opened it to see Ms Fitzgerald in the familiar position of sitting at the desk,looking towards whomever it was that intruded upon her domain....::

Hallo Tempest... might I bother ye fer a possible... fer somthin' ta fix this?

::He held out his hat, into the lamp lights cone of brightness...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

There was an odd aura that lay over the Quartermaster's manner as he aproached the desk and proffered the well worn hat. Though in its' time, she was sure the adornment was of high character, but the will of the sea had made reay handiwork of what Temest viewed before her. Adjusting the lamp for better lumination, she inspected the brim and crown knowing full well it was beyond reprieve. Setting it down on worn wooden surface, she regretfully nodded negation to resurection.

" I am sorry...But I fear your chapeau has witnessed better days..." Was the observation given to crestfallen reaction. "Never the less, there is great possibility that Armand has one that will suit your needs."

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: He looked at the hat as it lay on her desk.... it was once black with white edging round the brim and the red plume very full. Now... The sun had turned it brown in some areas, the white edging grey... and the plume, the plume looked quite bedraggled...::

Mayhaps i'tis time ta retire m'hat... I c'n prolly get a new one 'ere in port... I'd hate ta impose on Armand...

::He picked up the hat and almost stroked it as one would a pet. He turned it this way and that, opened his mouth as if to say something, stopped, gently shook his head and closed his mouth. Shrugging his shoulders he sighed...::

I s'pose I shall 'afta bother Armand... no time ta go shoppin' at present...

Are ye comin' along to? I had thought ye might...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The deep green pools of sight watched as unconscience affection was laid over the nearly departed, quick to take in the adornments of black and crimson beyond. Though giving no outward reaction, Tempest sensed an underlying aggitation to the other's bearing. Choosing not to breech said notice, she assured...

"Armand would be more than happy to aid you in your need. Please do not feel as if it is an imposition."

She thought on his query briefly befor answering, " That is a good question. I am unsure...I cannot think that there would be a need for such, aside from William wishing to present strict formal protocal..."

With casual air, she traced the brim of hat with slim fingers of right hand...

[Dorian Lasseter]

::He watched as she traced outer edge of the hat with light fingertips, wondering if a question should be raised about the private counsel that was held with the Leftenant of the Corvette... ::

I do believe th' Cap'n wishes a goode showing of th' officers... I do believe we are not th' only guests to be present... Capitaine Fournier an' his officers will be about as well... I would think you'd enjoy th' occasion ta.... mélangez... if given a chance...

::He watched her eyes as he spoke, wondering what she might do...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

"Melanger?" She cocked one brow slightly to the undercurrent of his verbose. " Pardon me...But there seems to be more here than meets the eye..."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::He slightly frowned at her query...::

Mélangez.... to mingle? or am I mistaken...?

I would think you'd wish a change of locale.... it does not do ye well ta remain 'ere below, an' a trip ta shore is wot would do ye goode, I think...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

"No..You are correct... for the most part. I understood what you said..." She watched him with speculative expression.

" It was rather how you asked the question...If it is of concern and duty, I shall make preperations in which to join company for the occassion."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::He thought a moment before answering, rolling her words over in his head...::

I am concerned 'bout you... yes, there is a wee bit o' duty of necessity... and...

::He cut himself off, not sure if it was within his rights to be so forward... changing the subject he continued...::

I shall go bother Armand for a better hat... Shall I? er, I shall see you on deck then...

::Uncertain of himself and of the situation between them, he bowed slightly and tucked his hat under his arm, turning to where Armand was berthed, he let his eyes linger on the Surgeon for a moment before making his exit...

He came upon Armand, very much in the same state as he had been a turn of the bell earlier, making himself presentable for a courtly occasion...::

Armand? Might I trouble you for a favour? It Seems m'hat won't do fer this occasion... Tempest... suggested that ye might 'ave one I might borrow?

::He showed his hat to Armand, much like he had to the Surgeon, a half smile playing about his face...::

[William Brand]

The mortuary sword lay on the ward room table along with a baldric, pistol and wickedly curved knife that the Mahdi had given him years before. Each of these items was polished to a high gleam as William waited out the day.

He had no doubt that his "officers", if such a word could be used by an almost pirate like himself, were presently spit polishing boots and buffing their coats just as he was. Each of them had a pride that they displayed with skill when it came to affairs of court. They were a mismatched, but marvelously grand cross-section of the great empires and cultures of the day. He had no doubt that they would be a strange and eclectic topic of conversation for days to come in the Don's court.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Gascon smiled warmly at Dorian's arrival, which melted slightly with inspection of the hat. " Mon Dieu...Oui! I would be pleased to help."

Moving through the cramped area, he released the latch of a near trunk. Removing boxes from within, Armand glanced over Dorian's adornments before taking one from its' brethren. Removing the lid, a hat of wide brim and coal hue was removed. Offering it to Dorian with easy smile, the movement caused thick splay of crimson and black plumage to nod.

"Bon?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Gingerly taking the hat from Armand, he turned it about.. A look of uncertainty on his face as he tilted it over and placed it on his head... Taking a short step back and turning his head slowly from side to side...::

Ah.... wot ye think? Do it fit?

::He stoped his movements and waited for an answer from the frenchman...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Stepping forward, Armand made an adjustment to placement then retreated. After considering it briefly, he nodded approval.

"Magnifique, mon ami!" The easy smile returned. "You shall have the ladies clambering for your attentions."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Dorian smiled and chuckled slightly, a short nod of his head...::

Thankee Lad... All th' ladies, eh?

::A slight gloom clouded his features and he murmered, ::

Just hopin' fer Tempest's affections *Ahem* *cough* ah... wee bit dusty

::He brightened some and took Armand by the shoulders...::

So... we gonna make a splash wi' th' crowd there at th' Don's estate, eh?

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Gascon observed the change of weather that briefly tinted the other's expression.

"Oui...We shall stun them with our bravado and well heeled ways!" He chuckled and considered what he had almost missed in hearing. Centering his attention to the other's expression, he spoke with caution.

"It is not too dusty in here, mon ami...What is it that causes you ill?"

[William Brand]

In preparation for his departure, William sent for his Steward. When she arrived he sent orders to each of his officers to be certain that the passing invitiations he had made before were more formally given in regards to his visit to shore. He requested that the ship's Bosun, Master-at-Arms and Doctor join the Quartermaster and himself ashore in their meeting with the Don. He also reminded his Steward of her evening there and asked her to be certain to ask Armand to join them as well. He then sent word that Mister Warren and Mister Youngblood should have the keeping of the ship in their absence and that they should be under the strictest of orders not to allow anyone to have admittance to the ship without penned orders from either himself or Mister Lasseter while the two of them were gone from the Watch Dog.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"It is not too dusty in here, mon ami...What is it that causes you ill?"

::With a slight raise of eyebrow, he looked Armand in the eyes...::

I do not wish ta be to for'ard in my askin'... Lamaire.... He an' Tempest were... at one time... amoureux?

They had a private conversation... not long ago... I had wondered...

::He suddenly released Armand's shoulders and stepped back, removed his borrowed hat...::

Forgive me... it is none of my affair...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I awoke clearly it was morning and clearly I had been thrown in jail. But why? I rubbed the back of my head.........