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Port Royal, Jamaica


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Watching after Sterling's departure, Sabastian's mind raced with the situation at hand and the repricutions that could ocure with rapidity at a momment's whim. Remaining calm, he judged proximities and the wind's current course while band of thieves stood in close attentive wait. There was no doubt in his mind that the acrid stench of flame appetite would waft further inland and even if such never made the old Maroon encampment, word would relay that direction and Andre' would surely make presence known.

Another round of mental cogs slipped into place. The Rookery would be out of harm's way, though he would send a faction of those hovering near to ensure that fact. Beggar Prince judged the wind once more, the warehouse bordered water and could be defended with that advantage if need be. Moving to the shelter of Church step's, sidelong glance was given to sibling and Christophe before fixing attention on those who stayed placement in anticipation of stragagies revealed. Quickly, instructions were relayed and the whole split into thirds, vanishing into the mob ebb and flow.

Drawing Aurore protectively near, he observed equine river and carriage move away from current placement, toward the safe route offered beyond Queen Street. A select number where brought to Church front lead by Sean Roberts, who spoke soothing words to twitching ears that swiviled in accompniment to nervous dance of hoof. Turning slightly, Sabastian spyed Isabella standing in high arch entrance, expression drawn with barely concealed fear that reflected heavier in the liquid depth's of her eyes.

Leaving Aurore in Christophe's keeping, he approached Venitian Dove taking her hands in his own, "Chere, I wish that you would go with Christophe and Aurore to safer ground. Your well being concerns me greatly and I know you will be out of harm's way by doing so."

Bella nodded agreement, her small hands gripping his own tightly as she lead to where the horses strained teather anchors. The cumbersome bulk of female attire lent greatened aggrivation to gaining mount seating, both woman astride Aurore's Barb who nickered displeasure with current burden. Assured that balance was aquired, Sabastian gained Noire perch quickly followed in suit by the rest of entourage.

The wind shifted, turning steadfast coursing towards harbour placement and a sudden revelation screamed to the forefront of Beggar Prince's mental fortitudes. In rapid fire succession, he told courtiers his desires. Sean would attend Christophe and the ladies....Burke would accompany himself to the wharf. One divided to two, both fighting for headway in the confussion.

As waterside destination drew nearer, the Noir was goaded to faster pace, Sabastian's eyes scanning the vessels present with growing concern as ember and ash began its' reign in vacinity. Just ahead, his attention finited upon a small gathering of three at water's edge, the Noir was spurred to faster pace then reined hard in to skidding clatter of hoof begging purchase to terra below.

Two of three were dismissed from centered scrutiny, "Mademoiselle, I do hope that you possess enough common sense and forethought to move that floating powder keg away from these shores...."

Devon Burke raised a brow as recognition of the young woman being addressed came to bare.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Striker sat down on the edge of his bed as he was trying to remove his maroon coloured coat . It seemed as a impossible thing to do. Every time he tried to lean back to crab one of the sleeves he felt a sharp reminder in his back that told him to get help , that he was not feeling well enough to do it . He was embarrassed about the situation he had put himself into .

He looked at Jane with sadness showing in his skyblue eyes .

"Even this I cannot do by myself !"

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always surrounded by shadows , always in the shadow. A spectre he be !

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Jane paused as she stepped out of the rented carriage. Her head tipped back, following the growing column of black. She had seen a fire much like this, back in New York. The flames had engulfed several blocks before a heavy rain extinguished them. She vividly remembered the pervasive smell, the frantic yelling as people fled the creeping blaze. At night the fire had lit up the city like an oversized lamp. She closed her eyes, drawing in slow breaths to calm the racing fear. The wind blew the flames away from the docks, but if they shifted even slightly, every ship in port would be at risk. The Anna Rae would be no exception. Jane hoped that wouldn’t happen, not because she wished the ships spared, but because she didn’t want to leave La Maligna. .

Jane shook thoughts of the fire from her mind. She trailed quietly in Strikers wake as he retired to the now familiar cabin. The carved door shut softly behind her. She settled her back against the entrance, watching his deliberate movement across the room. He had put on a strong façade while in public. Behind the closed door he crumpled, sitting heavily on the malleable bedding.

“Lesee tha damage ye’ve done this time.” Jane folded her arms in mock annoyance, an overly fake frown creasing her face.

"Even this I cannot do by myself !"

Jane crossed the cabin, settling herself next to Striker. The frustration was evident in his face as well as his words. She was overcome with sympathy for the man. He was obviously used to being in control, used to being strong and capable yet this injury was robbing him of that. She helped him drop the ornate jacket and waistcoat from his square shoulders. He stifled a groan as he raised his arm, the other hand lifting the edge of his fine-spun shirt. With great care she inspected the injury but found herself struggling to stay focused on the task. Striker had been asleep or nearly so the last two times she treated him. Being so close to him awake was another story; his vivid blue eyes following her every move, the warm, smoky scent of him making her heart pound loudly in her ears.

“Tis better for once” Jane reassured him finally, slim fingers retying the rough cloth bandage.

Strikers arm fell roughly to his side, releasing the shirt to its original position. His gaze never dropped from hers. Jane could feel her breath catch, the blood rushing to her cheeks at his intense inspection. Strikers strong hand reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw line with great care. Jane’s stomach turned in a knot, the drumming in her chest defining. Her lips fell open but for the first time in her memory Jane felt too flustered to speak.

"If part of the goods be plundered by a pirate the proprietor or shipmaster is not entitled to any contribution." An introduction to merchandize, Robert Hamilton, 1777

Slightly Obsessed, an 18th Century reenacting blog

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Two of three were dismissed from centered scrutiny, "Mademoiselle, I do hope that you possess enough common sense and forethought to move that floating powder keg away from these shores...."

Devon Burke raised a brow as recognition of the young woman being addressed came to bare.

At the sound of the familier, taunting voice behind me, I spun around to find Sabastian sitting astride his black horse.

With a snarl of frustration, I snapped back, "Why not just announce to the whole harbor what the cargo is? I've managed to keep it a secret for over two weeks, but if you think making it common knowledge is going to help my situation, then please, go ahead."

I turned back to Africa, who eyed Sebastian with suspicion. Tunny sat in the boat, holding on to a mooring line.

"Get those oars in the water, and get me to the Rakehell," I ordered the two men.

Africa stepped from the pier and onto the boat. Tunny still held the line, waiting for my word.

I stood defiantly in the rocking boat, and glared back at the Frenchman. "Are you just going to sit there looking attractive, or are you going to be our guide for the evening?"

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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Sabastian chuckled at Ransom's burst of defiant airs as he dismounted smoothly and handed reins to Burke. Walking to pier edge, he ignored the suspicious glares of her companions, squatting leisurely at pier edge to fix her with mischievous grin. Waving away her statements, dark eyes settled on her own, "Mademoiselle, you wound me with such comment. I see no others here about that have any time to concern themselves with your secrets. I do believe they are more worried of surviving this inferno in our midst...Of course, if errant ember should grace your decks, I doubt any of us shall worry of your secrets."

A glance was cast over shoulder to Devon then back, "And I assure you that Monsieur Burke's attention in this matter, is simply a variation and reflection of mine own."

With fluid movement, Sabastian dropped to seated position, legs dangling off wooden edge, "Merci beaucoup, Petit...Your compliment is graciously appreciated." He winked at her, shifting his head to slight angle and pursing his lips in mock contemplation.

"You wish for me to guide you, Cherie? You wish for me to place my life into your care? Of that I cannot necessarily grant you accord...You may pitch me over the rail just for the sheer delight of it."

The grin spread in good natured taunt.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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I was tired, I was covered in soot from two hours of fighting the blaze at Trilby's, and I looked like something dragged from the fireplace. I had a ship that, if one cinder landed in the wrong place, would blow us all to hell. I was not in the mood to bandy words with Sebastian. The smirk on his handsome face was not helping.

Knowing my temper, Africa looked worried, as if he feared I would just shoot the Frenchman where he sat, dangling graceful legs over the pier.

I gritted my teeth. "No, I won't pitch you overboard, although at this moment the idea does have appeal. I have already promised you safe passage on my ship. I will not go back on my word. But don't push your luck too far, Frenchman."

Africa jerked his head in Sebastian's direction. "Don say he commin' wif us!"

With hands fisted on hips, I tilted my chin up, blue eyes flashing. "I don't know. Are you coming with us, Sebastian? Better decide quick, because I'm leaving, and you'll be left to flaunt your charms to one less bystander."

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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"Tres vien, ma cher Petit...." he regained full heigth on quay support. "I must say that your invitation is of tempting nature...But I must decline...sadly."

Sabastian moved away, regaining former seat astride noir's back, "Follow the coast, as I instructed last eve and one will be waiting to signal cove's existance. Nine of the clock, Mademoiselle..."

He bowed slightly from lofty perch then turned mount away, holding position momentarily to cast a glance over shoulder.

"Ah Petit....I must tell you. When you are in a mood such as current, you are most beautiful to gaze upon. Au revoire, Capitaine."

The noir was spured to launch in direction first followed, Burke pausing long enough to give Ransom one more visual survey before following suit.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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"You're wrong, Frenchman, I look like a chimney sweep!"

Hiding my dissappointment that Sebastian had elected not to sail with us, I ordered Africa and Tunny to row to the Rakehell. They must have sensed my foul mood, as both remained silent during the crossing of the bay.

Once on board, I gave orders to set canvas and take the ship out to sea. Africa approached, his faced showing conern. "Who dat man, Captain?"

"If you're refering to the peacock on the pier, that is Sebastian Devareaux. He and his family are going to relieve us of this burdensom cargo and trade for either provisions or gold."

"You trust him?"

"About as far as I could throw him. But we need him and his family. At least until the holds of the Rakehell are empty."

Africa gave me a different look, then raised an eybrow. "You like dat man."

Anger flared again, mainly because I knew he spoke the trueth. "We have a business arrangement. That's all!" Then I pushed past him, marched to my cabin, slammed the door shut, and flounced into a chair, blushing like any silly school girl. "Business. That's all." I reconfirmed to myself. "That's all."

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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They rode in silence, the air tainted with carnage not overfar away placing Sabastian's thoughts in many directions. Gaining the lower end of Queen's street, they wove through the masses then criss-crossed byways to achieve the warehouse's proximity.

Nearing the juncture where alley spilled onto High Street, mounts were reined in briefly to allow survey of surround. The wind wavered in its' course and turned away from harbour coursing to bear more Northerly. As Sabastian concentrated on options that might need adhering to, Burke chortled to himself. The lilting roll brought other out of musings, "What?"

"Tis not'in'..."

"Enlighten me, s'il vous plait." The dark eyes scrutinzed the Irishman's secretive mirth evident on tanned features.

"Me an' Sean had a wager abou' the lass..."

"A wager? "

"Aye...Jus' fer amusement, mind."

Sabastian twisted in the saddle to allow fuller view, " Amusement..."

"Aye."

Gitan Dauphin rolled his eyes heavenward, "And what, exactly, was entailed in said wager?"

"Tis a bit o' silliness, Bastian."

"Oui...I am sure it is, but I could use a bit of silliness right now."

Devon sighed, "Twas a wager on'na lass' charms....wether she be pleasin' to the eye or no'"

Sabastian laughed, "And who won?"

"Meself." A smile spread wide over Devon's expression.

"And what was your thinking on such?"

"Oh now...we both be agreein' tha' the lass would be worth a tumble."

"Truly."

"Aye...Bu' I be tinkin' tha' a feller might be havin' his hands full at the inclinations o' such. I don' tink tha' one would be like a gentle wee lamb."

Sabastian returned forward in the saddle, gaze falling on the noble stance of the Old Church across the way and the graveyard bordering it.

"I do believe you might be quite correct in that assumption, ami." he commented underbreath.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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He wanted to kiss her for a while . Her green eyes glowed pulling him towards her . He moved his head closer towards her . Their lips met , sending his heart into a thumping frenzy.

He held her close in his arms as he gently layed her down on the adorned bed's linen.

He could not hold himself from looking in to her jade coloured eyes that kept pulling him towards her. He wished that time could stand still , everything seemed to pass by in comparison to her.

His back seemed to turn numb and he was without care except for her.

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always surrounded by shadows , always in the shadow. A spectre he be !

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Ioan had been standing at the rail of the La Maligna, watching as the smoke billowed above Port Royal. None of the Danes on board had left the ship to help fight the fire, but had stood at the rail as he did now. Since he couldn't understand their language, he had no idea what they were saying about it, but they did appear concerned, especially when the wind changed and ash started to fall on the deck.

Striker and Jane returned. Striker, pale as milk, went directly to his cabin, refusing Ioan's offer of assistance. Jane had said nothing either, merely followed the captain. Ioan shrugged and went back to the rail.

His attention was caught by the sight of Ransom jogging to the wharf, where Africa and Tunny waited with a boat. The arrival of the man on the black horse peeked Ioan's interest even more, since it was obvious the man and Ransom knew each other. He was surprised even further when the stranger dismounted, sat on the edge of the wharf and gave Ransom a smirking smile.

"Now what, do ya suppose, is that all about?" he mumbled to himself, continuing to watch until the stranger remounted and rode away, and Ransom was rowed to the Rakehell.

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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Three dark figures gathered at the end of a smoke filled alley a short distance from the raging fire. They were all but invisible in the swirling plumes of smoke that filled the streets.

“Quiero la mujer. ¡Ahora!” Ulises voice was low and rough, pitched for only his men to hear. Dark eyes burned into them, the intensity of his hate visible in the dark pupils.

Frustration creased Ulises dark brow. The boy had been no help in identifying Striker’s companion. However, Ulises' sharp instincts told him she would be the key in Striker’s downfall. He knew little of Striker, but he did know that no man could resist a pretty woman forever. Ulises had seen the blond girl with his rival twice, more than enough time for the Dane to become attached. It was a gamble but one Ulises was willing to take. With a devilish grin Ulises crept out of the empty passageway, his stride drawing him through the throng of people to a quiet section of the city. He stopped suddenly, a ruckus laugher pouring into the vacant city streets from a seemingly abandoned pub. His brown eyes narrowed, curiosity pulling him to the tavern entrance. He paused inside the door, eyeing the three drinking men suspiciously. His rough hand settled on the butt of his worn pistol.

“Gentlemen” Ulises deep voice boomed, the hint of an accent in his words. “Interesting to see three strong men drinking while the city burns.”

"If part of the goods be plundered by a pirate the proprietor or shipmaster is not entitled to any contribution." An introduction to merchandize, Robert Hamilton, 1777

Slightly Obsessed, an 18th Century reenacting blog

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Jane melted as Striker’s lips brushed hers. She could feel her heart flutter against the walls of her chest, her green eyes gazing deeply into his azure depths. The warmth of his lips stirred emotions she had abandoned long ago. The fire, the Anna Rae, everything seemed to fade from her thoughts with him near. It was a feeling she never wanted to end. Jane sighed as his strong arms encircled her, settling her into the soft down of the bed. Her hands caressed the short bristle of hair, down the back of his neck, drawing him closer. His rough hands ran anxiously over the delicate fabric of her dress. The thick skirts bunched between them. Jane smiled knowingly, untangling her self from his arms only long enough to loosen the gown. The ornate dress fell in a puddle of silk at her feet. Striker’s eyes brightened at the sight, his hand clasped around her wrist pulling her back on to the soft bedding. The blush from Jane’s cheeks spread across her pale exposed skin. Her lips pressed to his as she returned to the comfortable enclosure of his arms. They disappeared into the passionate embrace until a loud knock resounded at the cabin door.

"If part of the goods be plundered by a pirate the proprietor or shipmaster is not entitled to any contribution." An introduction to merchandize, Robert Hamilton, 1777

Slightly Obsessed, an 18th Century reenacting blog

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I looked around and for the moment the fire was contained. The Shipp was still burning along with 2 or 3 others. We've been hauling water for over 2 hours now. There are three chains drawing water.

"Pretty bloody amazing we got this organized." I muttered under my breath.

"Aye sir, I would agree." replied a man back.

I turn to see from whom the voice was coming from.

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The knock on the door continued as Striker made a deep sigh and looked at Jane .

"Wait right here ,I be right back !" He said to her while runing his hand through her silk like hair before his lips met hers again .

He stood out of bed and went towards the door . The knocking continued and Lauritzsen's voice could be heard. As Striker opened the door with a small gap he was informed that the wind had changed and the fire was spreading towards the docks. He gave them orders to prepair to go further out and moor in the bay , as soon as he went up on deck.

As he walked back towards Jane ,that was sitting on the bed ,he told her of the situation. He could see that it sent a terror through her.

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always surrounded by shadows , always in the shadow. A spectre he be !

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:ph34r: looking at the man standing at the door Dan smiles "what da we care if'n the city burns er not...hehe....we got free ale" he holds up his foaming tankard with his left hand as his right lays calmly on the pistol laying upon the bar. Dan looks shrewdly at his drinking partners as his fingers lightly tap the butt of his pistol. He hopes they have noticed the newcomer as well "I see yer not inta fightin any fires yerself, ye and yer lads...why not join us fer a round, th' tapster done run off and fergot ta take his rum wit' him."

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum...

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“No,” Jane gasped, the color draining from her frightened face. “I, I have to leave.”

She rose quickly from the comfortable bedding, flinging the rumpled linens back. Bare feet were shoved unceremoniously into well worn shoes, stockings abandoned in her haste. She rushed over to the closet where she had stashed her threadbare green mantua earlier. The garment was tugged on hastily before Jane turned back to where Striker stood. His calm blue eyes followed her, concern evident in the furrow on his brow. She found herself unable to look at him. The flood of emotions his gaze elicited was to distracting. Instead her head dipped, eyes focusing on the tattered hem of her skirt. She had always known she would have to return eventually. There was no way around her obligation to the Anna Rae, especially not with the threat of fire. Jane pulled in a deep breath, raising her sight to Striker for only a fleeting second.

“I’m sorry.” She muttered, turning towards the cabin door.

"If part of the goods be plundered by a pirate the proprietor or shipmaster is not entitled to any contribution." An introduction to merchandize, Robert Hamilton, 1777

Slightly Obsessed, an 18th Century reenacting blog

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Port Royal lay draped in soot strewn aura, the air thick with spent lumber burn; a dark mantle festering in acrid roll shifting at wind whims. On the main road leading in or out of Hell's reign on Earth, five riders kept their ground in the shelter of flora overhang of palm ceiling. In silence, the possible mennace was calculated by one as balance of four waited ever patient to leader's want.

Dirk Sallenger had been fated messenger, having been within Port encompassment when the first shouts rang urgency to citizens in warning. Quick time was made to encampment and Gitan Roi was found with even greater haste. Mounts were roused and saddled; a choriography of practiced skill become second nature to those conditioned to the ways of sudden flight.

Ahead, rider was spied intent on destination, not slowing until coming within identification range. Newest arrival drew near under the watchful scrutiny of Baro Rom.

"Sabastian?"

"A' the warehouse."

"Is there threat?"

"No....The wind has shifted, the fire started near the Fish Market. It seems be comin' under control."

Andre' kept his peace, deep in thoughts rarely given voice. Dark sights panned the tainted skies ahead, "Very well, I should like to see for myself."

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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A low chuckle escaped the Spaniards mouth as he stepped further into the tavern. His dark eyes centered on the boisterous man. He’d seen the kind before, plenty of talk but lacking action when it was truly needed. Despite the drunkard’s arrogance, an idea blossomed in Ulises’ mind. His heels clicked steadily in the quiet room as he continued to approach the bar.

“Indeed. But what good is drink when there is gold to be had?”

A shining piece of eight appeared in Ulises’ free hand. Its bright glint caught the eyes of the other two men. Both heads swiveled his direction as if they were just seeing him for the first time. The devilish crease at the corner of his mouth deepened at their response.

“You seem like the kind of men who would appreciate such an opportunity, yes?”

"If part of the goods be plundered by a pirate the proprietor or shipmaster is not entitled to any contribution." An introduction to merchandize, Robert Hamilton, 1777

Slightly Obsessed, an 18th Century reenacting blog

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“I’m sorry.” She muttered, turning towards the cabin door.

"I am as well ! " Striker answered her . He felt betrayed by the woman standing in front of him . Before jane turned around to walk out the door he said to her.

"You know where I will be . I wait for ye here until yer return."

Jane had to turn around to hide the one tear runing down her chin as she walked out the cabin door.

Striker followed after her treading sillently . He watched as she walked down the plank . When she stood on the docks she turned around for a quick climpse before lifting a bit on her dress with both of her hands , and started to run.

Striker went to Lauritzsen and asked him to make sure that she would be safe.

Lauritzsen hurried to follow after her.

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always surrounded by shadows , always in the shadow. A spectre he be !

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He was tired, filthy and stank to high heaven as a result of the fire. Sterling thanked March and the others once the blaze was brought under control.

"See to it that all are without injury. If needed, see to them that may have suffered during the fire. Let the others off for the night to do as they please, although do send one watch back to exchange with the others that went with Mr. Hazzards," he said, slowly rolling down once fine linen sleeves. He sighed regarding the distress done to his good shirt. "Tell Skittles I am sorry."

"Never ye mind Captain," March replied. "Good as new it will be once she has a crack at it. Now, tis yer new Lady that will need apologizing ifin ye keep yerself scarce from her side much longer."

Sterling sighed again. "Aye Andrew." He looked around at the damage about them. This was not how he had wished to spend his wedding day. Already the daylight was quickly retiring, making place for the night. And, for the life of him, he did not even know where Aurore had been taken for safey's sake.


"I being shot through the left cheek, the bullet striking away great part of my upper jaw, and several teeth which dropt down the deck where I fell... I was forced to write what I would say to prevent the loss of blood, and because of the pain I suffered by speaking."~ Woodes Rogers

Crewe of the Archangel

http://jcsterlingcptarchang.wix.com/creweofthearchangel#

http://creweofthearchangel.wordpress.com/

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In her haste to leave La Maligna the woman failed to notice the two shadows that fell instep behind her. One figure paused across the vacant street from the inn she entered, leaning into a dim doorway. The other followed closer at her heels; dark eyes watching as she ascended the narrow staircase. Satisfied that the woman was cornered, the Spaniard settled himself in full view of the stairway. A work worn shoe propped on the rough hewn table, follow closely by a second. Heavy arms crossed over his chest as he waited. When she returned he would make his move. He remembered his crew mate mention the woman, furious over the head wound she had inflicted with a simple bottle. The thought brought a sinister smile to the waiting man’s face. He rather liked a little fight now and again. The waiting man took little notice of a young man, dressed in cast of sailor’s clothes as he raced down the tavern stairs and disappeared out the rear entrance. Patiently the Spaniard continued to wait as evening began to fall on the smoldering city.

"If part of the goods be plundered by a pirate the proprietor or shipmaster is not entitled to any contribution." An introduction to merchandize, Robert Hamilton, 1777

Slightly Obsessed, an 18th Century reenacting blog

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“You seem like the kind of men who would appreciate such an opportunity, yes?”

"Firs owf, me an' me bruddah werk alone. An' as fer th' city burnin' dinnot know wha' ye be gettin' at sah. Me an' me bruddah 're mere sailors tryin' t' book voyage 'ome," I said to the man rolling a gold coin around his fingers. Liam stood up then spoke up, "Th' city's burned b'fore an' it'll prolly burn ag'in. Gentlemen," Liam nods and places the tankard back on the bar. I bow slightly and follow Liam out the door keeping one on the drunk at the bar, and one on the man with the gold coin.

Titim gan éirí ort.

There are many forms of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth not to push the boundaries into true corruption, into our domain.

Come now, you rich, weep and howl for your miseries that are coming upon you! Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver are corroded, and their corrosion will be a witness against you and will eat your flesh like fire. James 5:1-3

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Jason wove amidst the slowing whirl of chaos in search of Sterling. The masses shifted just enough for fleet glimpse, calling for change of navigation techniques. He hovered just beyond where Andrew stood, relaying comment, waiting for notice and avoiding too possible jostle of passers-by.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Sterling waited as March went over a few more items of note. As good eye came to rest on young lad, his first reaction was concern.

"What is it?" he asked Jason, pushing past his first officer. "Yer Mistress has not come into harm's way, has she?"


"I being shot through the left cheek, the bullet striking away great part of my upper jaw, and several teeth which dropt down the deck where I fell... I was forced to write what I would say to prevent the loss of blood, and because of the pain I suffered by speaking."~ Woodes Rogers

Crewe of the Archangel

http://jcsterlingcptarchang.wix.com/creweofthearchangel#

http://creweofthearchangel.wordpress.com/

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