Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Dawn had come to early.Tudor feigned a continued slumber, curled around a down pillow, eyes slitted so that she could be observed without notice. She watched as Armand silently dressed, treading carefully so as not to wake her as he crossed the room to gather his discarded garments from their scattered corners. She smiled silently to herself, burrying her face in the pillow, images from hours past replaying in her head. . .

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

. . . At Tudor's request, Armand began to escort her towards the sleeping chambers set aside for the Watch Dog's party, as usual, the epitome of decorum, her hand resting gently on his. Only the gentle stroking of his thumb on the heel of her palm belied both of their formal stances. They arrived at the opulant room, without incident or even questioning glance, to which both breathed a mental sigh of relife. Armand ushered his companion into the room, then, as she looked around the candle lit room, turned to secure the door, then crossed to where she stood in the middle of the room, reaching gently to play with one stray curl that had worked loose from the chignon she wore. But as if even such a small movement hurt under the pressure of all events both past and to come still, he stopped, almost flinching. With a small smile, she slowly reached up and pulled the pins and combs out of her red locks, letting them fall, brushing his hand, before he managed to pull his hand away fully, but as if the flame red curls actually burned, he pulled away even faster, even taking a step back. She smiled demurely, nodding her head regaly, making her hair cascade over her corseted chest. "Monsieur, allow me to take you coat and hat for you . . " She said, sweetly, her voice that of any hostess welcoming any gentleman with hospitality. With graceful and light movements, she crossed to stand behind him, running her palms up his shoulders, slipping his coat off his frame removing with it his waistcoat, drapping them over a gently curved arm, then using her free hand to remove the wide brimmed chapeau, her little finger catching some of his chestnut locks. Then with graceful steps crossed to the vanity stool and deposited the garments, looking over her shoulder, repressed intent glinting in the silver of her eyes. With a quick release of the breath he had inhaled at her touch, Armand crossed to stand behind her, wrapping himself around her petite frame, forehead resting against her hair and hands working their way along the stomacher of her gown, feeling the boning of corset under the layers of smooth silk. With a nimble flicking of fingers and turn of wrists, the hidden hooks, holding the front of her gown together were released, and Armand gently slipped the over dress off her shoulders, hands dropping with garment, coming to a rest on her shapely hips, gently pulling at the ribbons the held the dress's petticoat. It dropped to her feet in a pool of silk that matched her eyes. Backing up, ever so slightly, Armand pulled Tudor out from the pool of garments. Then, in continued silence, one hand remaning resting at her waist, the other gently slid up along her spine, coming to rest at the nape of her neck. He pushed the curls away, and gently placed a kiss on the ivory skin. Then standing straight, Armand focused his eyes on the ties of the corset, intently unworking the knot. With a burning smile, Tudor leaned back into him, obstructing his view of his work, and placing a hand behind his neck, she streached her head upward, gently starting to kiss his ear lobe. He flinched, and suddenly his patient work on the corset became a bit more frantic, and soon, the only thing holding the stays up was Tudors arms. Then gently he turned her to face him, taking her hands, making the undergarment fall to her feet, leaving just her shift. Again, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand tangling itself in her hair, and his mouth pausing only a few scant breaths from hers, he started to gently push her towads the the bed. . .

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

. . . Tudor had continued to observe unobserved as Armand finshed readying that morning. As he finished, he then crossed to the bed, a gently placed a gentle kiss on her supposed sleeping form, then he had exited the chambers, heading for his dawn appointment.

Tudor rose slowly, soon after he left. Donning a dressing gown that had been left for her by the changing screen, she went and crossed to the large windows looking down onto the courtyard, watching and waiting for news. That was the part she hated the most . .. no being in control, not knowing and not being able to control destiny . . . but she had to simply wait for word.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter watched the scene play out with interest, he watched every lunge, every reposte, every feint made... His face bore no knowledge of what lay within his thoughts, the only outward sign that showed itself was the slight clenching of his hand on the pommel of his sword each time he had thought blood would be drawn. A slight upturn of the right side of his mouth occured as the spaniard's blade left his hand... he watched as Lamaire poised his sword over the man's heart, and took in a sharp breath through his nose as that sword was thrust home...

The duel at its end, Dorian watched the second and the others marshalled on the side of the man who now laid in a lifeless pose, he watched for an outcry, for the insults to fly and the second to take up the blade... Not realizing he was doing it, his right hand had found the but of his pistol and now gripped the stock, his thumb on the cock...

Slowly he turned to Ms. Fitzgerald and spoke in a low voice...::

I assume ye will be doin' yer duty... checkin' th' lad... declarin' his death...?

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As the bout had played its course, she had gone into an ulter frame of thinking. Lamaire's dance had been witnessed before and this, much as those in the past, had followed a predestined and steady heading to its conclusion. The only variance in this instance, was that he had finished the game in quicker time than was usual. Tempest had been fully prepared for an hour's passing instead of the quickness in which the trial had been dispatched. Perhaps he was not as entranced with such situations as he had been a few years earlier...but, she somehow doubted that was the case.

Dorian's query brought her attention to full focus, the delicate line of brow knit temporarily as she turned to gaze at what expression he currently proffered. It did not go unnoticed that one hand lay to the worn grip of pistol's form and her eyes lit there for a moment before returning to his face. Straightening the facings of over coat lent to her by Lamaire, she spoke her reply in hushed tone.

"Yes...I shall confirm what we all are aware of, as is proper protocal."

Tempest reached across the slight distance that lay between them and brushing near hand softly before leaving his side to attend prescribed duty at hand. As she started away, hesitation called her step and she paused to catch his eyes with her own.

"This will not take overlong. Soon we may all depart..."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Dominique stood off to the side as the next expected course of events took their heading. Given official statement of the elder Santiago's state of being, the Surgeon was thanked for services rendered and retreated to Mister Lasseter's side. The mount that accomodated the offender's weight to designated area was once more employed, but this time in more of a pack animal likeness. The departed's form was secured over saddle's surface and covered for the journey back to the Santiago estate and waiting women of the household.

Lamaire joined his companion's and as they were to make way back from wence they came, he raised hand for pause. There was an air of question that hung the air, though nothing was verbalized and they watched patiently as the Frenchman crossed over to where the younger Santiago was overseeing his brother's Second securing beast of burden to his own mount's pommel. At Lamaire's approach he turned with an expression of unsurity touching young features. They eyed each other in silence momentarily before Lamaire reached into an inner coat pocket and proffered the revealing of ornate bejeweled broach. A startled recognition played Ricardo Santiago's face as his eyes darted from family heirloom to the Frenchman's calm vissage.

The Spaniard made attempt to speak, but was cut short by the Frenchman's raise of hand, "You will see this safely to your sister."

Ricardo nodded dumbly as the broach was placed into his keeping and Dominique began to rein his mount to turn away. As if sudden thought disrupted intent, Lamaire stayed his intended direction to scrutinize younger man briefly.

"I do hope that in years to come, you will not look upon this event with any means of heavy heart. You will see that it is what was for the best and if you are wise in your choices and do not follow you brother's reckless path, that it will be the marking of new and fulfilling beginings."

Lamaire waited for no response, simply gave sage-like nod and returned to his comrades as the young man who had gained heavy mantle watched after. Riding at slow canter past the gathering, Dominique looked over shoulder to Tempest swollowed in the oversized folds of his coat and quipped in familiar manner...

"Mademoiselle Bertrand...You are always a ravishing creature to view in whatever adornment you choose. But...I dare say that my coat is probably more suited to my frame than your own."

He threw Mister Lasseter an impish wink, then spured his mount to faster pace in direction of the Vasquez estate...

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the final act played out in this field of honour, the slain put across the saddle of his mount, exchanges made betwixt the younger spaniard and Leftenant Lamaire, Tempest back at his side... He had stood almost in an 'at attention' pose during this last part, but relaxed when Lamaire made a remark about the beauty of the woman at his side, and the quip referencing the loaned coat made him smile...

Turning to the Surgeon, he spoke...::

Indeed, Mademoiselle Bertrand... ye ravishin' creature, you... Let us away ta th' comforts o' th' grande estate from wence we came... tis soon ta be time fer departure, as ye said...

::He held out his arm for her, and she lightly took it as they walked the few paces to their mounts, he helped her up then turned to his own, who figited and sidestepped, causing Mr. Lasseter to hop around with one foot in a stirrup, trying to gain momentum and vault himself into the saddle, which he finally did... He plastered a grin on his face as those about him looked his way, some trying to hide an amused look... With a flourish of his wrist, he bade them to lead the way back... ::

[CaptainCiaran]

(The sun blazed beautifully and bright in the clear morning sky. As Ciaran looked out from the nest, all sorrow from the night before seemed to be melting away. Somehow he knew in his heart that Diego and Mr. St. Anthony were now onto new adventures and all was well with 'em. The Lookout breathed deeply and lifted his tanned face toward Ol Sol for jes a moment. Then, glass in hand, he began his trusted duty of scanning the horizon.)

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The two Frenchman had taken it upon theirselves to add a show of excitment to the calm ride back. The Surgeon and Quartermaster hung back in the company of Estaban as the other two raced forward in a display of equestrian prowess. The sun had followed its' predestined trek, and now sat in position indicating near hour of nine of the clock. Sol's raise of heigth in the heavens had vanquished the fog's hold on ground below, and with the passing of each new minute, new voices of avian symphony added color to the once still air.

The Surgeon reined her mount closer to Dorian's own, and after a moment of what seemed to be inner speculation, centered her focus on his face.

"Dominique has told me that it is Fournier's wish to leave La Margarita with the morrow's evening tide. He feels that the stay here has been overlong, but wished to ensure that all was well with our own before departure."

She glanced away momentarily to watch the "boys" at play before continueing.

"I must speak with Jean-Micheale afore that occures. This may mean staying in his company while you continue on to the ship"

His brow creased to her comment and she held up a hand to hold his words.

"There are few that I could be safer in the proximity of. I know that you more than likely do not understand fully, but please..." She reached over to lay a hand over his own. "You must trust me in this. You cannot be present for this parley."

Up ahead, grooms where attending the arrival of first two mounts as Armand and Dominique leaned to each others support; their laughter filling the surround.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"There are few that I could be safer in the proximity of. I know that you more than likely do not understand fully, but please..." She reached over to lay a hand over his own. "You must trust me in this. You cannot be present for this parley."

Up ahead, grooms where attending the arrival of first two mounts as Armand and Dominique leaned to each others support; their laughter filling the surround.

:: As they came to a standstill, the grooms reaching for the bridles of their mounts, Dorian had a moment to digest what Tempest had said, what she had requested... His duty, his orders were to stay with the Surgeon... Yet he understood that their were intrigues at work beyond his knowledge, and he had a thought that maybe it should stay that way... His head, heart, and gut did not find a reason to be troubled with this secret parley, however, he could not return to his ship alone... His mind struggled with the options left to him...

Once off the back of the mare and standing beside the Surgeon, he leaned close to speak softly....::

I.... understand th' need fer such intrigue... howe'er I cannot, will not leave ye here an' return ta th' ship.... tis not possible...

::Holding his hand up to silence her protest forming on her mouth...::

Yes, yes... ye c'n take care o' yerself... I have no doubt o' that... Go... have yer parley wi' Cap'n Fournier... you will find me in th' courtyard waitin'.... I cannot... will not step off this land wi'out you... ::He smiled:: Cap'n's orders...

I'll not hinder ye by dallyin' about n' makin' trouble... We all 'ave 'r secrets, Mademoiselle Bertrand... An' I shall not pry... too much...

::He winked at her, then gave a shallow bow, spreading his arm forward to indicate the direction to the main house...::

Shall we?

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*A new day had come, she refused anything Simon had suggested to eat,* "You must have a little something miss."

" I know, but I could not keep it down even if I wanted." *The giant sighed heavily set the plate down beside her, folded his hands and closed his eyes. Just as he had seen the Monsignor had done many a time in the moment of need:

Dear heavenly Father Creator of all that is seen and un seen,

Please help Miss Kendra with the pain and grief she is now struggling with. Help her to gain strength, as each hour doth pass for she is a most valued member of this crew and it will be that one day, the strengh you give her now will be, a strengh that will be given to them when called upon by others.

In You Blessed Son's Name

Amen

*At that moment, Kendra felt a peace over her, like someone was wraping there arms around her and whispering, "Everything is going to be all right you will see. . .sarrow is for but a breif moment, but all the joy that comes in the morning!" *With that, a large smile spread across he countanance, she snuggled down into her pillow and before she fell fast a sleep she thank her friend, and he in reply kissed her cheek. Then taking then untouched food he crept silently out to the upper deck*

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

:: As they came to a standstill, the grooms reaching for the bridles of their mounts, Dorian had a moment to digest what Tempest had said, what she had requested... His duty, his orders were to stay with the Surgeon... Yet he understood that their were intrigues at work beyond his knowledge, and he had a thought that maybe it should stay that way... His head, heart, and gut did not find a reason to be troubled with this secret parley, however, he could not return to his ship alone... His mind struggled with the options left to him...

Once off the back of the mare and standing beside the Surgeon, he leaned close to speak softly....::

I.... understand th' need fer such intrigue... howe'er I cannot, will not leave ye here an' return ta th' ship.... tis not possible...

::Holding his hand up to silence her protest forming on her mouth...::

Yes, yes... ye c'n take care o' yerself... I have no doubt o' that... Go... have yer parley wi' Cap'n Fournier... you will find me in th' courtyard waitin'.... I cannot... will not step off this land wi'out you... ::He smiled:: Cap'n's orders...

I'll not hinder ye by dallyin' about n' makin' trouble... We all 'ave 'r secrets, Mademoiselle Bertrand... An' I shall not pry... too much...

::He winked at her, then gave a shallow bow, spreading his arm forward to indicate the direction to the main house...::

Shall we?

Her stance had gained a hint of rigidity and the deep emerald pools narrowed momentarily. Glancing away to where the two Frenchman had stopped their carousing, as though they had unconsciencely picked up on the battle of wills nearby. Armand watched with an unspoken air of question playing his features; Dominique's arms where crossed over chest, one brow cocked. She turned then in the direction that Dorian indicated, pausing her step to fix her escort with an intense scrutiny.

"Mister Lasseter, I appreciate your concern for my well being and your upholding of duty..."

The Surgeon offered him a curt nod as she continued forward.

"...But, I would have assumed your attentiveness had more to do with issues closer to your very being than that of orders given."

************************************************************

The Gascon and Bordelais kindred looked at each other sidelong as the scene played out. Dominique gave a low whistle at what seemed its' conclusion, his memory knew the familiar set of those delicate shoulders and tight set of jawline...and He found no envy of anyone who had drawn it forth. Inclining his head in gesture of direction, Dominique made way to hacienda foyer.

Armand followed just behind, but hesitated to the view of young woman just overhead on second floor terrace. There was an expression of relief gracing Tudor's face and he smiled warmly acknowleding her presence.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the Surgeon walked away, into the building, followed by the two frenchmen. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh in exasperation, then quickly followed. He brushed past the younger men with a hurried "Pardon" tossed back at them. With several hurried strides he had caught up and overtaken his quary and spun about infront of her, stoping her forward motion... he spoke in an even voice with a hint of frustration edging it....::

Tempest... Damn me fer bein' such a gentleman there...

Aye... I will not leave ye by yer lonesome due ta m'orders....

I Can Not leave ye do to...

::Without warning he took her in his arms, swept her to the side and kissed her deeply... catching the Surgeon off guard was a hard thing to do, yet somehow, he had accomplished it for she did not react as he did this... After a brief time he brought her upright and ballanced her on her feet, releasing her and stepping back...::

So... go off an' have yer secret parley... I'll be collectin' our what-nots from th' rooms... I shall be waitin' in the courtyard...

::Her cheeks had ever so slightly coloured as he spoke, yet she did not make a motion to say anything to him. She just looked at him and blinked slowly.... This caused a slight nervous twinge to pass through the QuarterMaster...::

Right then... goode luck wi' yer parley... I shall see you shortly then in th' courtyard...

::With a slightly nervous bow he headed back to a halway off the one they were in. Armand and Dominique were standing there, mouths agape with an astonished look on their faces from witnessing the event that had just took place... as Dorian passed them he lightly acknowledged their presence... ::

Armand.... Dominique.... excellent duel....

::With that, he continued down the hall and wound his way through to the rooms which he and Tempest has spent the last night... The two frenchmen had watched him go, then turned to each other, then back to where Tempest stood... Dominigue spoke first...::

"Mère sainte d'un dieu..."

::Followed by Armand...::

"Incroyable..."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor was unable to disguise the surge of relife she felt when she saw the party enter the courtyard on return from their morning adventures. She even found herself calm enough to find an endeared amusement at the antics of the two frenchmen. Armand first noticed her in the window as the entered the main building, and she returned his smile, then turned when there was a nock on the door.

She turned to acknowledge the two lady's maids who entered the room bearing what looked like a pile of green and cream fabric. "Seniora Vasquez thought perhaps you would need a change of clothing." The first maid explained as the second layed out the pieces to an exquisite day dress. "Will Seniorita need help dressing?" She asked, and when Tudor assured her she would manage well enough on her own, both maids bobbed in small curtsies and left the room.

With a smile, Tudor looked over the fine garments, then started dressing.

[Pew]

::Mr Youngblood takes the flask in hand and looks at it as if ole' Jack himself will come out and grant him a wish. He tries to stammer out something but slips the flask into his jacket and returns topside faster than I can shake his hand . . .

Moving back to Jack St. Anthony's sea chest, I neatly fold and pack our previous Master at Arms' personal possessions. I lock it back up and carry to the upper gangway.

"MCGINTY", I look up and yell, waiting for the young chap to appear. I pat my chest pocket to make sure the Armoury's log is still present on me.

The young lad appears, and I give him instructions to take Jack's sea chest to the ward room and place it out of the way, but by the Captain's chair. Next he is to go to the Monsignor's cabin and organize what possession's he has left behind. I also want him to put those in a crate alongside Jack's things, so the Captain can do with them as he sees fit. The lad nods, picks up the chest and heads to the Ward room.

"Let's get acquainted mate," I say quietly as I pass by the ward room patting my chest pocket on my way to the armoury.::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

::As the Surgeon walked away, into the building, followed by the two frenchmen.  He closed his eyes and let out a sigh in exasperation, then quickly followed. He brushed past the younger men with a hurried "Pardon" tossed back at them. With several hurried strides he had caught up and overtaken his quary and spun about infront of her, stoping her forward motion... he spoke in an even voice with a hint of frustration edging it....::

Tempest... Damn me fer bein' such a gentleman there...

Aye... I will not leave ye by yer lonesome due ta m'orders....

I Can Not leave ye do to...

::Without warning he took her in his arms, swept her to the side and kissed her deeply... catching the Surgeon off guard was a hard thing to do, yet somehow, he had accomplished it for she did not react as he did this... After a brief time he brought her upright and ballanced her on her feet, releasing her and stepping back...::

So... go off an' have yer secret parley... I'll be collectin' our what-nots from th' rooms... I shall be waitin' in the courtyard...

::Her cheeks had ever so slightly coloured as he spoke, yet she did not make a motion to say anything to him. She just  looked at him and blinked slowly.... This caused a slight nervous twinge to pass through the QuarterMaster...::

Right then... goode luck wi' yer parley... I shall see you shortly then in th' courtyard...

::With a slightly nervous bow he headed back to a halway off the one they were in. Armand and Dominique were standing there, mouths agape with an astonished look on their faces from witnessing the event that had just took place... as Dorian passed them he lightly acknowledged their presence... ::

Armand.... Dominique.... excellent duel....

::With that, he continued down the hall and wound his way through to the rooms which he and Tempest has spent the last night... The two frenchmen had watched him go, then turned to each other, then back to where Tempest stood... Dominigue spoke first...::

"Mère sainte d'un dieu..."

::Followed by Armand...::

"Incroyable..."

She watched after his departure, as the hint of carnation hue receaded her features. Slying a glance to Armand and Dominique, Tempest noticed how they were twined in expression and as they noticed her veiled observations, both suddenly found that study of freso overhead to be of greatened interest. She exhaled slowly, giving small gesture to bring them near and spoke softly in native tongue.

"I am under the impression that we shall be returning to La Chien de Garde soon. Armand, it may be best if you follow Monsieur Lasseter's lead and make ready for such action. I am sure that Mademoiselle Smith is expecting you."

The Gaston gave silent ascent, following in Dorian's wake with quick glance overshoulder to his sister as he reached hall annex and turned from view. Lamaire proffered knowing expression to her as he extended his arm for her to take. They walked in silence, comfortable in each other's company as in days of yore. As they neared Fournier's private quarters, Lamaire brought halt to their forward movement. Unthreading her arm from his own, the Bordelais turned to face her.

Dominique's eyes, which carried knowledge of the world far more in depth than his age would vouche for, searched her own momentarily before speaking.

"Jacquelyn, are you certain of what you are doing? Does he know of your true status? Is he aware of the truths in general?"

"Non..."

"Do not take me wrongly, we have known each other far too long for misinterpetations of consequence."

And for a rare moment in time, the vissage of guarded bearing dropped from her being to reveal something of softer nature and therein lay a certain vulnerability rarely glimpsed. Lamaire gathered her against his frame protectively, chin resting lightly atop her head.

"It is a tangled web we weave, ma bijou..."

[Pew]

::The morning's cool dampness had begun to grow into the muggy humidity of the Caribbean. Being below decks on the Watch Dog only multiplied it's grasp. Removing my shirt, I knw I would only become drenhcd should I stay in the armoury for longer than necessary. Placing the logbook under my belt, I threw my shirt over my shoulder only to have the armoury's keys go bouncing down the hallway. Standing in front of the doors to the Ward Room I noticed John McGinty has fulfilled his duties with Diego Santana de la Vega's properties.

"Good job lad. Now ifin' ye be findin' Mr. Youngblood, I be likin' his comp'ny in the armoury."

"Aye sah" says the lad as he scurries topside.

Moving past the Surgeon's quarters and the sick bay, I come to the door of the armoury. Looking similar to another door on the hall, only differentiated by the large lock on the door. Fumbling through the keys I find one that looks larger than the others, place it in the lock and "POP", the door opens . . . ::

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

When Armand had reached the chamber, Tudor was behind the dressing screen, layering on the multitude of garments. Upon hearing the door open and close, she peeked her head around the edge of the screen. "Good Morning." She said brightly. "How was the . . .appointment?" She asked sweetly. Armand, without going into full detail, quickly assured her of the swift and sure outcome of the duel. Before he had finished the retelling of his exploits, she emerged, the gown of green offsetting her pale skin excellently. She smiled at Armand's apprechiative stare. "Do you like it?" She asked with a cheeky grin and he assured her that he did.

With the rustling of skirts and petticoats, Tudor crossed to the vanity, and started to arrange her hair. "I was wondering, Armand, if you would do me the service of escorting me into town - to the market place. There are several items that are needed for the ward room. I of course, need to speak with the Quatermaster first, and gain his permission, but I am sure he will insist on my having an escort."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Gascon stood a short distance from where Tudor gathered unruly tresses and kept silent, fully pleased to keep her movements on the focal point of his attention. It took a moment for her comment about the marketplace to settle and give realization to current thinkings, but when it did he shifted footing uncomfortably.

"I do not know if such a request will be easily granted, petite."

Tudor stopped in taming efforts and gazed at his reflection cast on mirror's surface.

"Pour quelle raison?"

Her sudden choice of francois caught him off guard briefly and his brow furrowed in response. Stepping to her side, Armand sat on near ottoman.

"Parce que...I have just left Monsuier Lasseter's company and I am under the impression that he wishes to make haste back to the ship. He said he was going to gather belongings then wait in the courtyard. Perhaps you may be able to convince him otherwise, but I would not wager to heavily upon it."

There lay a flicker of dissapointment in her eyes which drew concern from his own.

"I did not say that he would negate such a request...But I am given the feeling that he wishes to return greatly. I will gather what here is ours, that will allow you time to finish readying."

He gained his feet and smiled down to her affectionately, all the while his thoughts wondered at if time were not so pressing, how long it would take to undo all the preperations she had worked to put in place...

************************************************************

The sound of door opening stilled softened words of native speech as Dominique looked to sound's origin. Jean-Micheale stepped into vastness of passageway and paused in intent at the view beheld. Within the depths of liquid amber sights, question rang forth with a hint of protective irritation. Fournier approached with controlled measure as Tempest looked up reading his carriage and stepping back from Lamaire.

"J'espere qu'il n'est rien arrive." He stated looking at the Surgeon.

"Tout va bien, Jean. Merci."

"Bon." Fournier said no more on the matter, but his expression did not give any indication that he was convinced. His attention still focused on her, Jean spoke to Lamaire, relating that all of their posessions had been gathered and were waiting in a carriage. He had given his word to Don Vasquez in overseeing the transfer of goods to Captain Holland's vessel and that they would depart soon after. Lamaire nodded his accord and excused himself from their company.

"Dominique mentioned that you were in need of my attention when he relayed my invitation of dinner. The invitation is still open, if you would do me the honour of your company. Perhaps we should make it a mid-day meal, if you would prefer?"

She smiled warmly to the reproposal of offer, "That would delightful."

"Very well, I am at your whim." He extended an arm to her, which she accepted without hesitation. "Allow me to walk with you for awhile and enjoy your closeness. I shall relay orders to the Galley upon arrival to conjure your meal of choice from Marsailles and we can discuss matters then."

"Tres vien et merci, Jean."

"Avec plasir, ma cherie."

They followed the path of grand hallways back to the courtyard entrance and emerged into Sol's warmth. Waiting patiently, as promised, Mister Lasseter sat on ornate stone bench and looked to their arrivale.

[Pew]

::A rush of stare air filled my nostrils as I swung open the heavy door. Rust had begun to form from the moisture and humidity below decks. The squeak from the hinge reminds me to see the shipwright . . .

Before I step into the darkened room, I let the room vent.

Walking back the ward room I fetch a candle off of the Captain's table. Lighting the candle, I move back to the armoury.

Stepping into the room I see shelves and crates full of the ships armaments. I raise the candle to eye level and see another book matching mine on the shelf nearest to me.

"Huh, 'Ole Jack had 2 arms logs. Goode on ya mate."

A small desk sits below the shelf. Placing the candle on the desk I pull out the small stool and open our manifest. A small torn and faded paper falls to the deck.

"Beer, wine, rum . . . Mebbe Mr. Lasseter should 'ave at 'is"

Folding the parchment delicately I tuck it back into the log book.

"So, wot we got's 'ere . . ", looking over Jack's handwriting, I continue to read down the inventory:

53 boardin' axe

47 doglock muskets

58 brace o' pistol

31 'alf n' quarter pike

43 short sword

39 cutlass

12 grapples

13 grenadoes

Scanning down several more lines, I continue reading:

kegs of pistol powder

several small powder horns

2 crates of flints

20 'alf kegs o' gun powder

I turn the page to see the crew members arms they brougth aboad during muster back in port . . . ::

[Pirate Petee]

*hearing that Mr. Pew requested his presence at the armory, he made his way down below deck. Once there he knocked on the door.* Mr Pew ya be needin ta see me?

[Pew]

"Mr Youngblood, mebbe a favor sah? Looking through Mr. St. Anthony's log of munitions and arms, would ye 'appen ta know if this is all of the powder that we 'ave aboard?", I point to the ledger and hand it to Mr. Youngblood.

"Cap'n said he wanted supplied 'fore we 'ead outta port. I be puttin' t'gether a list as well. Dinnt know ifin ye needin' anythin'"

[Dorian Lasseter]

-the Don's Estate-

::Dorian made his way back to the rooms which he and the Surgeon had shared the night before, opened the door to find two maids straightening the room and changing the linens... He stopped short, bowed to them and slowly walked about, gathering the few items that had been left earlier that morning... Once he was sure all had been gathered, he fished two coins out of his pocket, approached each maid in turn and put a coin in their hands...::

Gracias muchacha...

:: With a bow he left the chambers to the maids...

He walked with no hurry to his step, weaving his way back to the outside terrace and finally found himself in the courtyard...

He walked over to a stone bench drenched in sunlight and sat, turned his face up to the rays of Sol, closing his eyes to the brightness and smiled...

He let his thoughts drift to the past events, which caused the smile to broaden...

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls coming into the courtyard. Turning to the sound, he opened his eyes to see the forms of Capitaine Fournier with Miss Fitzgerald on his arm.

His smile wavered slightly as he stood and waited for them to close the distance.

Bonjour Capitaine, Mademoiselle Bertrand...

I do believe you need privacy... And this is a grande place for it...

I s'pose I'll find m'self in th' gardens for a time...

::He swept his hat off and bowed...::

[Pew]

::Mr. Youngblood scratches his chin and says he'll be right back.

I continue going through the log book . . .

PERSONAL ARMS:

William "Red Wake" Brand

1 cutlass

1 Mortuary Sword

1 screw barrel flintlock

1 English doglock pistol

2 Jacobeans

1 Dutch Wheellock

1 French Marine musket

1 Doglock blunderbuss

2 knives - fixed

1 folding knife

Dorian Lasseter

2 Cutlasses, one heavy, one light

1 Mortuary Sword

1 papinhiemer hilted rapier

1 side ring dagger

2 dragoon pistols

1 Brown Bess Rifle

1 Sea Service Pistol

1 Half pike

1 knife

Petee Youngblood

3 pistols

1 blunderbuss

2 cutlasses

1 rapier

Tempest Fitzgerald

2 French Dueling pistols - .62 Cal.

2 Irish Traveling pistols - .50 Cal.

1 Belgian pistol - .70 Cal.

2 Irish Dubh

1 Venetian Stiletto

1 Scottish Dirk

1 French Swept Hilt Rapier

1 Main Gauche

1 Italian Seven Ringed Rapier

1 English Naval issue Cutlass

::I look behind me at the crates full of arms, "Bloody 'ell me lady . . ". I whisper as I wipe the sweat beginning to seep at my brow . . .

I continue reading:

Lady Kendra

1 dagger

Lady Rummy

1whip

2 pistols

2 cutlasses

1 knife

1 dubh

Mercenary Wench

1 customized swept hilt rapier

1 matching main gauche

1 dirk

1 boot knife

1 bodice dagger

1 small knife

2 doglocks

1 blunderbuss

1 cuff pistol

::"Ms. Smith, such the danger to the lads . . . " I chuckle to myself . . .::

Swan

9 throwing daggers

2 flintlocks

1 parrying dagger

2 swords

1 cutlass

1 staff

1 long bow and a quiver of 30

1 whip

Sealegs Constance

1 Cutlass

1 Flintlock pistol

1 Baldric

1 Whip

1 Flogger

1 Eating Dagger

2 Boot Daggers well hidden

1 small widows dagger hidden in my bodice

Weapons left by deceased crew members:

Diego Santana de la Vega, Monsignor

3 pistols

1 deck scatterer/crowd clearer

3 knives

1 cutlass

1 Scottish claymore

1 boarding axe.

Captain William

1 cutlass

1 blunderbuss with spring bayonet

a brace of .62 heavy pistols

a brace of .50 screw barrel pistols

1 dagger

1 skean dubh

Pyrate Phil

3 pistols

1 rapier

1 gauche

1 cutlass

1 boot knife

1 eating' knife

1 flogger

1 crop

1whip

2 throwing knives

1 garrote wire

1 boarding axe

1 small vial of arsenic

"Arsenic?? Bloody pirates . . . " . . . I think to myself but laughing out loud. As if Id been struck by a bowsprit, I suddenly remember Mr. St. Anthony had his own arms aboard ship as well. Looking back through the first few pages of the log, I draw a line through his entry, and move a few pages past.

I dip the quill to what's left of the ink at the desk and pen my first entry into the log with heavy heart:

Jack St. Anthony

2 pistols

1 blunderbuss

2 boarding axes

1 Dagger

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

He let his thoughts drift to the past events, which caused the smile to broaden...

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls coming into the courtyard. Turning to the sound, he opened his eyes to see the forms of Capitaine Fournier with Miss Fitzgerald on his arm.

His smile wavered slightly as he stood and waited for them to close the distance.

Bonjour Capitaine, Mademoiselle Bertrand...

I do believe you need privacy... And this is a grande place for it...

I s'pose I'll find m'self in th' gardens for a time...

::He swept his hat off and bowed...::

The brief falter of his smile did not go missed, but no issue was brought to light in its' wake. She pondered what might be going through his mind and considered bring the subjuect up at a later time for clarification. No mention of history had ever passed her lips to Dorian's ears in regard to Jean-Micheale Fournier, and it made her wonder further, as to what brought the reaction to bare. Was it a secretive side of possessive quality or had mention of past incidents been revealed by some other. Dorian's show of formality was disturbing on some unknown level, for reasons she could not quite corner.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Lasseter. Comment allez vous?" Fournier replied with aloof manner.

The sound of shod hoof clattering against cobblestone surface and further emphisized by the creak of carriage suspension, drew the trio's attention. As the elequated chase drew close and to halt, Dominique emerged from inner domain. Clapping Dorian on the shoulder in act of comradery, he nodded to his cousin.

"All is in order, I have checked to make sure that everything is accounted for..." Lamaire paused in report noticing an odd tension in the surround. Glancing to the other three in turn, he continued while retrieving a sealed paperment from inside his coat. In doing so, the favor given by Miss Smith was drawn out accidentally. Undoing the tangled objects, he handed the document to Fournier and shot Dorian an impish grin.

The Surgeon stepped near the Quartermaster to allow Jean-Micheale privacy. Leaning close, she fixed him with an iquisitive look before speaking.

"There is no need for you to make scarce. Other arrangements are in the works and we may return aboard once we have all gathered."

She scanned the area briefly, "I am sure Mister Badger, Miss Smith and Armand shall be here soon enough."

Lamaire chuckled, " So much for our days of wine, roses and innocent nubiles at beck and call..." He rolled his eyes with issurance of heavy sigh. " Back to heave this, secure that, hoist this, belay that..."