Port Royal, Jamaica

[D.Patrick Burke]

..."So wha' has ye dancin' about? Ye got yerself some fine bit 'o it yer champin' to get on wit'?" No comment was made by Sean, completely content to nurse the offering.

Cork's native son smiled with secretive implications...

Trilby knew the Irishman was fishing, so he sidestepped the question. He picked up the rumpled package from the table, it's rather skunky oder beginning to taint the air. "Tis always good doing business with your clan, Burke. And as yea ken, I've already paid for this delivery at the bookstore." He gave the package a little wave, hoping the noxtious smell would speed the two men on their way.

But lately fate always seemed to play him false. The sound of hoarse-voiced cursing suddenly erupted from his study.

Devon's attention centered on feline resting lofty perch while the Academic made segue; Roberts taking small step back away from noxious package. Draught was taken from vessel held and as said container was being placed on near table, explosive verbose split the still. Ireland's sons focused on their host, then towards eruption's hidden origin. Sean's brow pricked upward, hand sliding to traveling pistol within concealed folds and Devon's body language tensed, though widening smile played to Elder.

"Well now, bully....Seems the spirits o' this house are a wee displeased..."

Feline gargoyle launched from heavenward plateau, and as soft feet found floor purchase, her face held nothing short of disdain.

[Ransom]

Waking into a wavering, drugged world, and with my stomach feeling like I was on the deck of a heaving ship, I tried to collect my wits enough to remember where the hell I was. However, my mind was so fogged, and the pain in my shoulder so sharp, that all I could do was let out a raspy series of curses, which did not change my circumstances, but was a true testiment of how I felt.

Rolling to my side in an effort to get my bearings, the room tilted and swayed at vertiginous angles, making my stomach queasy, and causing my eyes to feel crossed.

"Trilby, blast you, what the hell did you put in that rum? I'll throttle you, I swear it, you Scottish devil, if I could just..." With a groan I settled back into the cot and waited for my world to stop spinning.

[D.Patrick Burke]

Devon crossed his arms across chest, mirth dominating the planes of his expression, "Seems be I wasno' far off...Ye got a bit o' somethin', fer true." He cocked an ear in fury direction, " An' me senses could be tellin' tales....But, tis man's words rollin' off a lass' tongue."

Glance was thrown towards Roberts, who's attention had yet to stray from kitchen doorway; nor hand from weapon.

"So how's it stand, then? Lover's spat, ye Scottish Deevil?"

[Professor Angus Trilby]

At Devon's last remark, Trilby lost whatever patience he'd had left. He jutted out his bearded chin and glared at the two men.

"Lover's spat! With that she-devil? Foisted on tae me by that black giant of hers. Stuck with playing nurse-maid tae that thankless, exasperating spawn of Beezelbub. I'd sooner be put on the rack than hae that hoiden as a friend, let alone a lover. And I'll thank yea tae take that grin off your face, Devon Burke, for I nae find anything amusing about the situation! I hae half a mind tae send her off tae that rich auntie of hers, and be done with the baggage."

[D.Patrick Burke]

"Ho now, Aul Fella...." Devon raised his hands palm out as if in warding off. "Jays, Patrick and Mary, yer gonna' get yer sheep in'na bunch!" Reaching for the decanter, brandy was poured to fill and glass extended in peace offering. Retreating a step back he aligned with Roberts, "So's how be it that ye started taken in wayward lass'....Rich auntie, ye say?"

A glint sparked Irish eyes, though smile had extinguished like doused peat hearth. Gaining sober poise, Burke's voice lowered, "Can we be o' service to ye?"

[Cheeky Actress]

"I must apologize to my guest, send him on his way and then you can tell me as to why I have found you in such a sorry state as to steal another whore's gentlemen in her very own house."

Lilly sat quietly by the fire as she heard whipsers in the outside hall. The tone of Reggie's voice was at first dismissed as intrusive at first, but the cooing sounds from Nelly soft voice soon pacified him.

Moments later she appeared at the doorway of the hall. "All better now I see?" Muttered Lilly twisting the a torn piece of linen petticoat in her hand. "Will he be back? I mean, I am sure he will...but for you not for me right?"

[Nelly Greene]

If Nelly Greene reacted to McKinney's question, she did not show it. Instead, with graceful wave of one hand, she indicated to Lilly to join her upstairs. As the two women moved to the upper rooms, Nelly could not help but respond.

"Yes, he should return and if you find yourself so short on coin, I suppose I could put you to work...if you would have him again. But there is something else, some thing of a most urgent nature that I would rather discuss with you. I could use your talents," she said, then added somewhat hastily. "Your acting skills that is, to help some one very dear to me. Tis a dangerous proposition that I shall declare to you, but, if you are willing, I shall pay you handsomely."

['Bastian Devareaux]

Dauphine watched the dance of flame in hearth confine as if mesmerized as Childermass spoke in graveled tones. The silences, when they came, were punctuated by crackle and shift of wood's baptism; yellowed glow playing tag with darkness in unlit chamber. Pungent wine sat near neglected in fluted container but for the unconscious stroke of index finger around rim edge; Sabastian deep in contemplation to what played his hearing.

Seth paused oratation briefly, shifting wraith-like frame and sampling deeply his own crystal cage. Their eyes met fleetingly, younger retreating hold first then issuing heavy sigh. Large pop screamed the silence as ember threw itself from former hole, landing violently on flagstone border and loosing life-light.

Consideration of mango slice was an afterthought as Beggar Prince turned full focus on companion, brows drawing together to pinch smooth brow.

"You know this to be true?"

Sage nod was given as answer, and no more.

Dauphin's eyes traced the play of shadow across comrade's scarred features; index finger ceasing circumnavigation.

"Very well....."

[Cheeky Actress]

Your acting skills that is, to help some one very dear to me.  Tis a dangerous proposition that I shall declare to you, but, if you are willing, I shall pay you handsomely."

As they walked up the stairs together, Lilly gut turned over. The over whelming feeling of hate came raging back. Once again, Nelly Greene had the upper hand. She hated the little games that she would play not only with her, but with the other daughters of the house. Mother seemed to draw a blind eye to her behavior...until that night she threw her out.

"Why should I trust you?" Lilly muttered as they reached the top of the stair well. She saw Nelly turn and look at her with disappointment. "I mean, what is so important about this one person that you'd ask me your my help?"

[Cheeky Actress]

Lilly waited for Nelly's reply as she sat next to her in the small sitting room. "Men seem to be our down fall, don't you think?" Said Lilly looking about the room. "I mean, let's face it...this person is a man, am I right?

[Nelly Greene]

Nelly could not help but offer up a slight frown.

"Of course tis a man. One I have grown fond of, in a very short period of time. He has been arrested as of late and has been dreadfully hurt whilst in prison... if I were to send in the local doctor, he would be turned away at the gate...but there just may be a chance that a woman, a dabbler in herbs and old ways, I may just be able to sneak her in without her drawing too much notice to herself."

[Cheeky Actress]

Suspiciously, Lilly looked back a Nelly. "A man...of course. I should have known." She fidgeted a bit in her chair. "So, you wish me to pose as a wise woman and pretend to sell trade of the Old Religion to this man you've just met? I don't see why the guards will not send me away….unless you know they are a fearful lot and fear the craft?"

Lilly watched Nelly's face again. It could be very hard to read her sometimes. "Well..." Lilly said crossing her arms about her.

"What do I have to do once I'm inside?!"

['Bastian Devareaux]

Lucien dabbed the corners of his mouth with fine linen weave before continuing, "Sir, with all due respect, the crimes reportedly committed are heinous at the smallest regard. Granted, rumours do have their way and the Accused has gained certain reputation. Nevertheless, the court cannot take to heart what is blathered in small circles. You are well aware, as I am, how quickly one can be turned out of proper circles due to one individual's opinions and influence." He paused, irritation gleaning young features as cuff ruff was tugged at, "This is not a circumstance of crime and punishment, it is a petty vendetta twisted to look so."

The man sitting across intimate table, shifted in obvious discomfort to what was being discussed; eyes moving away to laden surface in near company. Issues of this magnitude were never something that he invited willingly and in most cases subtle evasions served him well...Not so this time. Young Barrister was far from one who would drop the subject and allow its' falling to the wayside at carefully crafted words. Modyford was well aware of Lordling's pit bull tendencies and even further aware of the parties who had unleashed him.

The Governor shifted again under the intense scrutiny of the Other's gaze and made half-hearted attempt to gain the Square, "Lucien, what ever lies afoot is beyond my powers of control..."

"Truly." The reply did not hide the contempt felt.

"Now Lucien, one must take a step back and look at the situation without being overly influenced by those that have no understanding of..."

Lucien's fist struck table surface with greatened force, cutting the Governor's verbose primly short and unsettling the lid of near covered dish, "I WILL HAVE NONE OF THIS!!!!" Deep breath was taken and composure reset as obvious unsettling gave impact over the companion's person. Another deep breath was indulged as Lucien softened expression, but for the fire that remained blazing in visual pools.

"With God's own grace, we are Englishmen and placed in position to judge what is right...and what is wrong. We have been assigned the duty to protect the innocent; to lead by example and disperse the chaos. It is our DUTY, Sir, to uphold justice and not backslide into the influences of those who abuse our stature for their own good. I stand before you humbly and entreat your better character to gain clarity. You are a good God fearing man and know well that this is not as it should be."

Lucien rose from his seating, laying linen square carefully over unfinished meal, "The man is a monster, and I have no care as to whom it is that plays Master to his violent ways. It is his disreputable word that has stirred this falsehood and I refuse to stand aside and allow the persecution of an innocent man. Perhaps you are able to rest easy at night with such goings on....But, I cannot."

Servant was requested to call for carriage and Barrister waited in silence. As coat and hat were given over, young Lordling re-centered attention upon Governor's proxy. His words were kept in hushed tones, though their delivery held all the impact of a scream.

"It would prove far better if this were handled as should be. A hornet's nest, once stirred, is not so easily calmed."

The door closed quietly as company was split, Governor left in the silence to wrestle his conscience and possible impacts of detrimental proportions that might ensue. In the corridors of his mind played an old rhyme that chilled his soul…

One for Sorrow, Two for Joy;

Three for a Girl, and Four a Boy;

Five for Silver, Six for Gold....

One line haunting his being, its' shadowy meanings calling forth light perspiration to his brow.

And seven a Secret, never to be told.....

[Professor Angus Trilby]

A glint sparked Irish eyes, though smile had extinguished like doused peat hearth. Gaining sober poise, Burke's voice lowered, "Can we be o' service to ye?"

"Service? Aye, yea can do me a service. Yea can explain tae me why folks keep bringing sick people tae mae door, when I'm nae a doctor. Yea can tell me why I am rousted from mae bed in the dead o' night and taken to a ship to nurse some bloke who isnna there. Yea can tell me why some hysterical actress nearly beats down mae door for succor, then leaves in a tizzy without a by-your-leave or puttin' a coin in mae hand for mae trouble. Yea can..."

Trilby was distracted from his tirade by the figure of a woman suddenly appearing in the shadows of the doorway leading into the rest of the house. Her curly hair was Medusa wild, and at the end of her wavering right arm she held a cocked pistol. Before Trilby could utter a word, the woman wrinkled her nose, and demanded in slurred tones, "Who'r these men, and...wuz that God-awful smell?"

Before he could answer her, she fainted dead away. The pistol hit the floor, and with a deafening report that rattled the crockery, fired a ball into the plaster of the opposite wall. The smell of gunpowder mingled with the stench coming from the parcel.

With a crash, the kitchen door was thrust open, and the hulking presence of the Blackamoor stood in the doorway, cocked pistols in both his huge hands.

Trilby raised his own hands in a sign of surrender. "Weel, as the fireworks hae already started, why don't I just throw a wee party and invite the rest of the town?"

[D.Patrick Burke]

Recognition came to the forefront as the woman moved from the shadows, disheveled appearance stroked by single lamp's cast of gold. Devon started to make quip about bookstore hap stance meetings and reunions when pistol recognition drew his attention and instinct blazed forward. Quick sidestep was made to table's side; edge grabbed without second thought and as damsel's fall was echoed in action by hand cannon, table was swiftly upended as makeshift shield.

The acrid smell of spent powder permeated the surround and in near-far distance, Devon heard native brother cough. Tension plucked the lengths of sinew muscle and left hand tightened smoothed wooden grip in response to the deafening crash of door protest. Rolling to balls of feet, he glimpsed a sliver of Robert's form crouched near weather worn barrel as the Academic's voice cut the air with tang of Scotch sarcasm.

Through the slats offered by table's construction, Devon eye-spied the towering stature of ebony render. Readiness was re-checked with practiced speed as he whispered under breath with colorful flourish.

[Ransom]

Africa had just been approaching the old man's door when he heard the shot. With a shout, he cocked his pistols, then put massive shoulder to portal and barged his way in. What he saw did not reasure him. One man cowering behind a barrel, a tipped table, and his captain lying limp as a fish in the opposite doorway. The old Professor was no help at all.

Standing solid and foresquare, his pistols pointed to the two strange men, and his heart yearning to go to the prone figure on the floor, Africa bellowed, "What goes here? Who be you, and what be wrong wit da captain. SPEAK, or I shoot you where you hide, sniveling dogs!"

[D.Patrick Burke]

Devon more than heard the boom of voice and its' threat was far from false. Feeling bottled up with few options, he called out to Trilby.

"Ye tell tha' fella to back a pace now, ere I send him ta' the Gates an'na meetin' with Peter steadfast. I don' miss from this distance an'na wan' no doin's with whate'er ye got yerself mixed in. Ye hear me now, cara...There be no healt'y outcome if me hand be forced."

Finger tensed ever so slightly to metal crescent and options were quickly reassessed.

[Professor Angus Trilby]

"Lay by, lay by, yea blasted fools. I'll hae nae killin' in me kitchen!" Trilby stepped up to the Blackamoor. "Put your pistols away, yea heathan devil. Your mistress be a fool, but nea dead. Take her back tae mae study and I'll be there directly." When he saw reluctance in the black man's face, he ordered, "Go, I tell yea, or I'll nae lift a finger more tae help her."

With a grunt, and a glare at the two strange men, Africa un-cocked his pistols and put them back in his belt. But his voice still held a lethal dose of hostility. "Who be you, and why you here?"

Trilby waved a hand. "They're here on mae business, which be none of yours. Pay them nae heed, as they mean nae harm tae your captain, more's the pity. Now go, put the wretch tae bed."

[D.Patrick Burke]

Deep inhalation was taken, then released slowly; glance stolen through slat portal and another towards Sean who eased from crevace with hints of mending wounds. Returning to erect posture, Devon kept trigger company until young woman was gathered and safely removed. Tension still clung to the air, Irishmen's eyes falling on Academic with silent demand of explination.

[Professor Angus Trilby]

As the black man took the woman away, Trilby turned to his first guests. "Oh, aye, yea hae questions. But all I can tell yea is that, should yon vixen die, your compadre Sebastian would nae look fondly on it. Now I must leave yea and see tae her. I thank yea for the delivery, and hope yea forget what yea hae seen here tonight. It be nothing illegal, mind, er, at least I nae think sae, but nothing that yea need prattle about."

He gave the two Irishmen a last cock of an eye, then turned to follow the blackamoor.

[D.Patrick Burke]

They stood silent, allowing the words to sink in as Academic's footfall faded to next room. Putting table back into proper positioning, Sean leaned close and whispered low to brethren.

Devon closed his eyes briefly and nodded before cautiously moving in the direction Trilby just past. Leaning on thresh frame, he cleared his throat and was rewarded with two sets of sights centering on current placement. There was no love to be gleaned in ebony features and the Academic was embodiment of fluster.

"Me Mum knew the craft o' healin'....an' she taught some o' it to me own self before she passed on."

['Bastian Devareaux]

Childermass waited silently aside as key slid home and lock protested to the dim. His expression, what could be seen beyond penumbra, was stoic, though occasional waver of torch flame reflected in the pale of reptilian stare casting cold fire of its own. The two men moved clear to allow unsettling companion entrance to dark, rank maw. A torch was handed into his keeping and its' original bearer shuddered as wraith passed by.

The stench contained within was a kaleidoscope of wretch; damp, sickness, fester and filth. This was the realm ruled by half of Apocalypse Company, its' virtues well known to the man who willingly crossed into encompassment. His senses reached out, laying caress to the surround; which had little effect outside of pure observance. He had experienced too much on nameless fields for any effect to truly sink in.

Torch was raised, flame wavering ever so slightly and invoking phantasmal shadow dance on bordering walls. The air was tasted again as cool stare fell to object of desire. Skirting of regimental render was drawn to the side as Seth crouched cat-like near inert form. Low whispers played to his hearing from without; a symphony of unrest and fear. Torch was brought closer for better scrutiny and Childermass nodded to the echoes of his mind. One hand reached forward, hovering over the massed rat's nest of blonde tress and blackened congeal; the angry, livid marks of battered complexion once fair.

Again the nod in accord to something only he could hear; he had seen worse...He had seen better. Nevertheless, the carnage before him could not be denied nor ignored. Pursing his lips, lithe frame unfolded until fully erect; head cocked ever so slightly to the left and he inquired to the darkness in conjured hiss, "Where is yer Brother? For is this not a War? I feel you...I know yer Red steed....I know yer treacherous heart and mind...." The pale eyes drifted circumference of chamber, briefly listing to portal before returning to curled form at his feet. "Ye Rider's Pale an' Dark...Ye have no claim here...Do not play me a fool, we have held each other's comp'ny too long..."

Without, escorts glanced to one another and chill gathered in the deepest nether regions of their souls.

[Professor Angus Trilby]

"Me Mum knew the craft o' healin'....an' she taught some o' it to me own self before she passed on."

Trilby let out an exasperated sigh. "It's nae healin' arts she needs, it's a pair of shackles tae keep her in this bed. There's naught yea can do that hasnna already been done."

The last thing Trilby wanted was for young Devon Burke to report to Sebastian that his paramour had been stabbed in the back.

"You go on, now, and leave us to tend her. Tis rest she needs more than anything else."

[D.Patrick Burke]

Something did not set well with the current goings on and Burke raised a brow speculatively to the Academics words. The thought crossed his mind to argue the point, but it was not his place and a pint sounded more inviting.

"As ye wish....Is there an'nathin' else ye might be needin'? If no' , Sean an' meself will find our ways out."

[Capt. Sterling]

Twas the whispering...

Sounds had been drifting in... out of hearing... a cry in the dark

... the constant slamming of distant, heavy, oaken portals .... the unending tramping of feet

......passing by but never coming to aid. Sterling remained still, where he lay and had not moved since he could recall.

Yet this whispering was insistent, all too near, provoking another to battle. And, all too real even to his haze filled brain. He struggled to open encrusted sights but only managed to cry as a pain-filled, blinding white light enveloped him.

Edited April 3, 2009 by Capt. Sterling