Port Royal, Jamaica

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

It was whispered that they came from northern regions of Navarre, a theory that was spoken in hush and never pried into deeply. Some things were best left undisturbed, somethings were best accepted with cautious realization and the three in question fell under such catagorizations. Those that had any dealings with them were wise to keep what was preceived to themselves.

Port Royal was no different in certain flavorings than any other area of commerce. No barriers of distinction lay betwixt said port of call or the likes of Portsmouth or Marseilles when the exchange of favors for coin were in the dealings. Commodities were commodities, whether by legal or more nefarious means...Be they sugar, silk or information and influence, all are the same no matter their pin point on the map. All could be obtained...for a price.

Within the encompassment of second floor dwelling lay the rookery. Heavy drapery of crimson velvet choked any attempt of tropical sun invasion and the air hung heavy with ghostly tendriles of burning patchouli and myre. Two of the Three were present and discussed business while awaiting arrival their missing third. Even in the subdued light, there could be no mistake in relation, the differences lay accordingly to one being male and the other of opposit being. Conversation proceeded in a mixture of French, Basque and Romy, a feat of subtle segue that often boggled outsiders allowed audience. Perched on ornate high backed chair, a one eyed crow shifted footing and ruffled its' ink hued plumage then resettled.

The sound of door opening gave pause to proceedings at hand, the large avian lifted from roost to settle nearer to human companions, fixing its only orb on newest arrival. The network of ruffs which comprised organization's foundation, had yeided much in the passing hours. The Eldest gave update and smiled with feral manner as announcement was made in regard to a possible assassination attempt on local Aristo. This news gave pause for contemplation. The attempt in question was not on the order of the Three and rogue opperatives were rarely tollorated.

"And what of this Mademoiselle newly arrived who mocks songbirds?"

The eldest raised a brow inquisitively to his sister, "She is not of the wealth we had suspected and seems drawn to fits of emotion..." He chuckled wryly.

"Pour quoi, ma petit renard?" The younger brother chided, "What interest lies for you in one more femme in the area? If she is not of wealth, than she offers us no benefit. Perhaps it is something that is in her...shall I say...proximity?... that is the true cause of your queries."

[Nameless]

"What the devil is he waiting for!?" growled Richardson, as he impatiently waited for Fournier to make his shot. Richardson never trusted the frenchman, though he was one of the best marksmen he had ever met.

"Just be calm.." growled Larson, trying to hide his own impatience.

However as he watched his opportunity begin to spoil.

"Damn him! We havn't time for this... Go up and see what's taking him!" Snapped Larson. "If we loose this opportunity, I swear I'll kill that frenchman myself!"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The small warf urchin slipped from the concealment offered by shadow and old barrels. Carefully he navigated his way from the area and onto a destination that would guarantee payment for service rendered. Dissapearing into the normal crowd that maintained sway on main thoroughfare, the boy smiled to himself knowingly for the descripts of individuals sighted would ensure favor from those known as Le Cour des Grand Corbeau. Perhaps he would be allowed access to the intersanctum and placement in the guild, a priviledge that outweighed the jingle of coin.

Such were the aspirations of the young...

[Nameless]

As Richardson climbed the steps to the roof top he continuously cursed the frenchman for his failed responsibilities. He was to simply to shoot a man. That was all, ONE MAN! Yet he failed miserabely.

But when Richardson arrived at the roof top he found Fournier much different than he would have expected.

The french man was wearing nothing but his underclothes and somehow bound with dirty a wash line. Nearby the frenchman's musket was in pieces and useless.

"What the hell is this! " Demanded Richardson, as he cut the ropes from Fournier.

"I was set upon! There must have been three or four of them!" Whinned Fournier. "Before I knew it, I was bound and tied up."

Suddenly the door burst open as Larson stood with mouth wide open.

"What the hell is this!" Demanded Larson as he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"I was set upon!" Whinned Fournier, again. "There must have been three or four.."

"Yes I heard!" Snapped Larson, furious at the thought of such a simple operation going completely awry. Then suddenly realizing that after being well-paid by their employer, only to fail, would mean death for each of them.

"We need to leave here quickly!" hissed Lasron. "Give him your jacket!"

[Capt. Sterling]

She said to herself in a low whisper. “I love you so much.” And with that she began to pray.

Sterling’s first instinct was to apologize for frightening her. He had felt her jump considerably when he had laid his hand upon her shoulder as she knelt crying by her trunk. But when Lilly had then scrambled to conceal what she had been holding in a fine, lace handkerchief, the thought left his mind. Instead he reached over her shoulder to take from her what she had tried so hard to secrete.

With handkerchief in hand, Sterling stood and quickly moved away from the actress as he unwrapped what was inside. For a second he was disappointed…. Naught but a lock of blond hair. His own. But his thoughts would not allow him to believe that she cared that much for him, for although it bore the same colouring as his own, it was far too fine. Another lover’s he pondered next and felt himself fill with the heat of jealousy. He turned and glared down at her and then realized his foolishness. He knew all too well that there were many other men in Lilly’s life. Most of whom he was acquainted with so he could rule out the tender blond curl in his holding.

“Please!” Lilly whispered between her tears. “Give it back to me!”

And then he realized. “Tis his?” Sterling cleared his throat. Why was it always so hard to speak to this woman? “Tis his … our son’s?”

“Yes, yes,” Lilly said, hastening over to the captain to reclaim her small treasure.

For a moment, he was tempted to pull the token from her reach, but with a deep breath he took one last glance at it then wrapped it carefully in the linen and relinquished it to her.

Lilly snatched it from him and then moved away to the far side of the room.

“I would thank you not to touch my possessions,” she said.

“He is my son also, Mistress,” Sterling said. “Can you not see that? Do you think me as hard and uncaring as other fathers?” For a moment he believed he would be very different from his own heartless father.

“Lilly,” he said, moving to her side. “Please tell me where he is! For God’s sake, what if something, God forbid, should happen to you? Who would care for him then?” He struggled to keep his hold of Lilly’s shoulders gentle, despite the strong urge inside him to take her and shake some sense into her.

“For pity’s sake Lilly, at least tell me his name!”

[Rateye]

"Where have you been, my boy??" Demanded Easterly "Your food has been cold and I almost left without you."

"A bit of an upset stomach, I'm afraid." I replied as I cradled my self in an attempt to emphasize an ailment. "Perhaps it was the early morning brandy..."

"That'll do it to you, I'm afraid!" Replied Easterly. "In fact it reminds me of the time......"

"Allow me." I insisted, as paid for the meal with my newly aquired wealth.

"Why thank you lad!" Easterly added. "Now where was I??? Oh yes! It was several years ago when..."

"Doctor Easterly", I interrupted. "I hate to be so rude sir, but would it be possible for me to meet you back at your home? There are but a couple of errands I have to run. Most importantly, to make payment of a debt I had aquired."

"By all means youngman!" Easterly roared. "Tend to your business. It is only right that a youngman should pay his debts."

"I agree sir." I smiled. "But I shouldn't be long. Besides, I wouldn't want to miss another of your riviting stories sir."

"Why thank you lad." Easterly smiled, as he patted me on the back. "I'll bid you good day then."

"And good day to you sir." I bowed, then made haste to stop the good Mr. Symms from committing a tragic mistake.

[Reginald Killingsworth]

He despised being in Port Royal. From the moment he step foot up to this tropical island, Reginal Killingsworth grew impatient with everything and everyone around him. "People are fools...idiots!" He thought to himself as he walked the street to the Ward Theater. There in front of the theater entrance stood several girls of questionable status waiting for customers to venture out or in. One dark skin girl smiled and hiked up her skirts just so. Killingsworth hissed his reply. "Whore." and continued into the theater.

It had been raining on and off most of the afternoon that summer day and the crowds at the Theater dwindled miserly to the Stage Manager’s liking. "Oh, this will not do!" He muttered to himself as he looked through the curtain. The audience was waiting for the first act to begin. Then he looked over at the table where a stack of unpaid bills laid unattended. "Damn them to Hell!" He cursed. "I cannot expect to live the life I am accustomed to if the cursed people of Port Royal haven't got the good sense God has given them to appreciate my life’s work! They rather sit and listen to priests on Sunday then to hear my best actor’s performance!"

His assistant quickly passed him a note as the rest of the stage crew rushed about to get things ready for the first act. "Oh, what’s this?!" His assistant pointed towards the back of the theater. The stage manager quickly looked up to see a well dressed man standing in the back lurking in the shadows. It was then the stage manager smiled and let out a sigh.

"We are saved.,.saved I tell you." He quickly kissed the forehead of his servant and smiled uncontrollably. "Looks like we have been blessed to obtain one of London’s renowned playwright’s new play, "All for Love". Again, the Stage Manager looked back at the well dressed man in the back. “I hope that this will show you all I can still manage to obtain a first class playwright!" With that he tucked the letter into his tight fitting breaches and waited for the man to come forward. "But this week we perform The Country Wife!" He said with a sniff and then walked out to greet the well dress man by the name of Killingsworth.

[Rateye]

"Mr. Symms!" I called as I entered the kitchen.

"Aye, Dr. Reiley... What is it lad, already make your fortune?" Symms replied with a smirk, as he continued to fill the tankard.

"Not exactly sir, but just the same, you'll not be needing to melt them buttons down." I announced as I dropped a handfull of coins on the countertop. "And he dosn't need to know where it came from...."

"As I said before... Fortune favors the foolish!"

[Reginald Killingsworth]

If it hadn't been for to his employer demanding the return of the famous Lilly McKinney, he would have never had ventured to Port Royal in the first place. The deluge of bad weather didn't help matters. It took him almost a good half hour to walk from the docks to the theater.

His hands and feet were completely soaked. He was not in the mood for an argument from anyone, especially with that woman. Quick tempered women always seemed to make matters worse. It was hard to make a point while they yelled, cried, wailed and threw things at you.

He managed to find his way through the tiny little path down to the main seating area waiting for the performance to be over with so he could speak with the stage manager. As Killingsworth sat, it took him a good minute or two to realized that the actors were performing a comedy. He sat there trying to warm up and looked over the paperwork his employer had given him. He didn't care for this part of his job. Never did, really. Collecting 'debts' were just one of many 'uncomfortable' jobs he had been performing these last three years. He looked at his paperwork again; a very detailed list of instructions which were given to him prior to his departure from England.

He looked about then saw the stairs leading to the back of the stage. He knew once there, they would have a hard time throwing him out. He stood and made his way to the back stairs. Once there, he walked up the landing towards the back room where the performers dressed. "Here? What are you doing here?" Asked the maid servant as she looked at him up and down. "I must speak with your stage manager." "Do you, now?" Sniffed the maid servant. "As you can see he's very busy." It was then he gripped the girl's right arm and pressed her to the wall. "Perhaps I did not make my words clear to you. Fetch your Master. I shall be here waiting...and be quick about it!" The girl pulled her arm free from Killingsworth grip, looking back at him with a look of disbelief as she went to collect her Master before the end of Act I.

As the girl passed through the lower hall the stage manager walked into Killingsworth's view. "There you are!" He shouted with a great big booming voice. Killingsworth winced at the sound of it. "Do forgive me for not greeting you sooner but with the low house lights I did not see where you ventured off to. My name is Pritchard.... Ronald Pritchard I own and run the Ward Theater and you kind sir are?" With a low bow, Killingsworth announced his name. The very tone of his voice was low and dripped with venom. He was quite pround of himself this time...no stammer or stutter in his voice. "Very well Master Killingsworth, you have a proposal for me and my theater, do you?" He said with a smile. "We will discuss our business overr--r a glass-ss of wine, mayhap?" The stage manager looked at the well dress man with concern. "Yes, quite." Then leaned closer to him and whispered. "Fear not, Master Killingsworth...many a good man comes to me to rid themselves of the impediment of the tounge." Killingsworth's eyes narrowed. For this remark, Master Pritchard would soon not forget their meeting.

[Ransom]

While Ioan detoured the boatmen away, I escorted Ana below to my cabin and poured us both a bumper of rum. I wasn't sure how I wanted this interview to go, but the bottom line was, I needed supplies, and I wasn't about to let my current cargo—small but valuable—be sold or exchanged for mere food. And the last thing I needed was for old Morgan to get wind of what lay hidden below.

"A toast to you, Ana, and old times. I'll make this speech brief (and hopefully save some of my rum—I've seen this woman drink most men under the table). I need supplies and I've run a bit low on funds. My latest pickings weren't worth the cannon shot. The Rakehell is excellent for culling strays from a fleet, or quick cut-and-runs on single vessels, but with only six twenty pounders and four swivel guns, she's no match for a beastie like the Resurrection. Nor would she fare well in a large sea battle, if that be Moragn's plan. I also don't fancy him using her as a patrol vessel, sniper, or insulting her by making her a mere messenger service. So, this be my question. Can we put our feminie wiles together and brew up something profitable to both? Keeping in mind that Morgan is a wily old fox, and has the power to commandeer our ships if he so chooses. An eventuality I would sooner avoid."

There, I thought, that sounds friendly enough. No need to tell her everything—yet.

[Cheeky Actress]

Lilly looked up at him and she found the pain in his expression far too much for her to bare. She slumped meekly in his grip and, lowering her face from him, she whispered "His name is Christian John McKinney. I have taken your names and switched them around. Now will you leave me be regarding him?"

She tried to pull away from him then but was taken aback as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," he whispered. She looked up at him and was somewhat relieved to see a small smile on his face. Still she did not expect his second kiss, another just as tender and thoughtful as his first and then yet another. She smoothed her hands along his cheeks, finally cupping his face in her hands. She thought of pushing him away but found she couldn't. She closed her eyes as she pulled him closer and opened her mouth to his.

As she felt his hands move down over her body, she detached herself from his touch. It was a trick she had learned in order to tolerate the coupling with others, one which she always found hard to accomplish with Sterling. As she felt him lower the edge of her chemise, baring her breast, she lost her ability to separate herself from his caresses. Oh it would be so easy to stay with this man, she thought. And yet she knew there was more than just creature comforts that she would be forced to sacrifice if she let herself give into his desires to wed her. She allowed him to move her to the bed and sighed pleasantly as he took her. Oh why wasn't life as easy to handle as making love to this man, she wondered.

Edited December 20, 2008 by Cheeky Actress

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

While her brethren moved to converse other matters of buisness near crimson shrouded window, a sheet of parchment was obtained and layed on table's surface. Black sentry paced the length as if on watch, pausing now and again to peck at some unseen thing. Correspondance was scribed,and the ink allowed to dry thoroughly after blotter attentions.

The contents were given final inspection, and though not overlong, she was sure that its' purpose needed no further elaborations...

It has come to our knowledge, that there are documents of marine subject, statutes and liabilities being of interest to you. If this be the case, return reply with the bearer.

Black wax was warmed then applied to folded paperment and seal affixed as she rose with fluid grace. A glance was shot to the other two still deep in meditations and a small curl formed on the fullness of her lips. Stepping away from the table and beyond the large chamber entrance, her lithe form drew the attention of one in waiting.

He stood respectfully, sight secretivly roving the narrows and bounties clad in waterfall of plum silk. "Vous plasir, madame?"

The wide expressive eyes of deep chocolate tincture narrowed briefly at the Frenchman and his ruse of survey; a fact that he noted, promptly dropping his focus to the flooring below. Such boldness, even at veiled attempt could prove unhealthy to one's constitution, a fact that he had witnessed in the past.

With acceptance of paperment and instructions, Christophe removed himself quickly from her presence. He contemplated the contents unseen and gave into wondering what stake could be involved. His destination was an easy one and the quary known to him due to the fact that he had watched the individual at the Mistress's request. It was confusing as to why Le Cour had any interest in this Englishman known as Sterling.

Achieveing designated establishment, he traversed through the locals gathered in main room and onto where proprieter met him with cocked brow. Christophe stated his buisness then waited patiently for the wheels to be set in motion.

[Cheeky Actress]

Lilly pulled herself upward from the captain’s side when she heard footsteps approaching their room. She looked down briefly at her lover and decided it best to let him sleep, so she left the bed quickly, pulled her chemise back into its proper place and then drew his banyan on about her shoulders. Gathering up the far too long and billowy robe she closed it about herself as best she could… after all they were not expecting Symms back until later that evening. Lilly smiled wickedly to herself… surely all hell would break loose then.

She opened the door before their visitor was able to knock and was presented with a letter for the captain.

“Captain Sterling is resting. He has not been well as of late,” Lilly said. She had half expected to find Skittles and Andrew March, not the man who now graced their doorway. She glanced back over her shoulder at the figure still asleep in the bed. The curtains no longer drawn in the hopes that a breeze would be forth coming through the open windows, it was quiet evident to the stranger that the captain was indeed as the lady claimed. His gaze traveled from the interior of the room and slowly moved over the actress. Lilly felt herself correct her posture and her pose to something more befitting a unexpected visit from one of her more noble suitors and yet, she could not help but feel somewhat uncomfortable in the man’s focus and pulled the banyan close around her throat. “Do you wish to wait for a reply?” She asked. “If so perhaps you would be so kind as to await a response down below and have a drink upon the captain for your patience?”

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Christophe tilted his head slightly in consideration of her words. The instructions given were thorough and he weighed options in regard to the woman that stood in obvious discomfort to his presence. Offering her with a smile of accord that never truly reached his eyes in sincerity, the Frenchman of southern origins voiced his intentions.

"As you wish, madame. I shall wait below, but must 'ave a response from the Capitaine before leaving the establishment. There is no need for me to draw upon the gentleman's credit, though your offer is kind."

He stepped back, proffering a small bow as the wolfish smile played to her again, then left her presence. He was sure that if she were like most femme, curiosity would tug at her insistanly and the Capitaine would be roused very soon. Unconsciencously, his nimble fingers ran over the base relief of medallion suspended from neck.

The image echoed wax seal on delivered correspondance; a raven with wings folded back in flight. Said possession would allow him extension of credit in the common below.

[Cheeky Actress]

Tentatively, Lilly broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Laying it upon the small desk in the corner she swiftly scrutinized the letter.

It has come to our knowledge, that there are documents of marine subject, statutes and liabilities that are of interest to you. If this be the case, return answer with the bearer.

Simple and to the point! So like she had imagined Sir Henry to be. Lilly felt herself radiate with elation. Without a doubt, this was just what her lover had been so impatiently awaiting. She reached for the quill and dipped it into the dark ink. For the briefest of seconds, she felt herself curious as to why Andrew March had not brought the much anticipated news himself. Conceivably, with all matters now settled, he had chosen to spend the day with his wife exploring Port Royal.

She quickly brought the pen to bare upon the page before her. In her happiness she hastily scrawled

I am indeed most interested in obtaining the proper letters of Marque and I am most obliged for your consideration to intercede on my behalf. The ague has laid me low for a few days so all that you can do for me is truly and most respectfully esteemed. I am indebted to you.

Your most humble servant,

JC Sterling

Captain, Archangel

Lilly blotted the epistle and resealed it with Sterling's own seal. She went to the door and was in luck to find the chambermaid bustling about in the hall.

"Here girl, bring this down to the tall, dark gentleman in the bar. You just insist that his beverage is adhered to Captain Sterling's receipt and there will be a coin or two for you for your troubles."

The girl took the note, curtseyed and left on her errand, as Lilly closed the bedroom door and crawled back into bed beside her lover. "You will indeed be most pleasantly surprised when you awake," she whispered and kissed his shoulder. "Sir Henry is most happy to take the affair of your letters personally in hand."

Edited December 20, 2008 by Cheeky Actress

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The lit pipe sent intricate spirals of scented phantoms to crossbeams above, the patterns viewed with a casual interest. The young woman's appearance in peripheral view, drew Christophe's attention sidelong. She curtsied then handed over the resealed parchment, relaying what she had been instructed in regard to establishment payment. The words wafted much like the pungent smoke to fall of barman's hearing, his rotund form stopped in current duty to catch the girl's attention with a sharp shake of head.

The Frenchman stood from his seating, finished what remains lay in drinking vessel, then produced a coin which outweighed the girl's simple service. He extended it to her, keeping it in check with pinch of index finger and thumb. The chambermaid seemed hesitant to take glinting object under dark scrutiny, but relented eventually with another bob, then retreated.

Christophe looked over the newly afixed seal and thought the turnabout to be of rather hasty means before tucking it away. Another coin was produced for the Barman's service as the Frenchman retreated the bar, returning the way he had come. The origin of travel was soon aquired again, and after a single rap, the large door was swung inward alowing entrance.

Aurore sat within the confine of the oversized chair, flanked by wrought iron stands supporting tallow burdens. She waved him forward and the message was placed into her keeping, accompanied by narrow legnth of stilleto to which she released the seal.

He watched in silence as she perused content, her eyes narrowing a degree before centering on where he stood. Aurore tapped her chin with the correspondance for a momment, the full lips pursed, "This was delivered into the gentleman's keeping?"

"Oui, madame..."

"It is odd to me that a gentleman should have such profond curviture and sweep in his scribe."

Christophe said nothing in reply.

[Capt. Sterling]

“What has thou done?” Sterling yelled, sitting upright in the bed.

The actress’s humming had awoken him not long after the letter had moved on from the barroom below. She had made herself comfortable in her place beside him but found she could not sleep due to her excitement. The letters were the necessary key; the permission he needed to go out and rebuild his fortune. She knew all too well, that he would generously lavish his gains upon her and his child. “Ah,” she thought. “Children.” Sarah would no longer be the only one who reaped the benefits of an all too successful captain. And if he did well enough… just perhaps… she would change her mind concerning relinquishing her freedom to become his wife and his chattel.

She had tried to read but did not notice that a song she had heard recently played over and over in the back of her mind until she began to hum. It was not until he had rolled toward her and she felt his fingertips progress along her thigh that she was certain he was stirring.

He had awakened to find her unexpectedly happier than he had seen her since she had suddenly interrupted his life again. As he pulled her to him, ready for more of her exquisite delights, she had begun to tell him, between his kisses and gentle nips, about the good news. At first what she babbled on about made little sense to him… an urgent need far out weighed any matters of business. It was not until he had pushed her chemise upward to her waist that she had giggled and said Sir Henry would have to wait. It was only then, he realized he should be taking the time to listen to what she had to say.

“Sir Henry?” he said pausing. “Admiral Morgan?”

“Oh Johnny, it can wait,” she said. “You said so yourself.” She took hold of the of neck of his nightshirt and attempted to pull him down to her again.

“You said he sent a letter round? Concerning my papers?”

“John!” Lilly rolled her eyes as he suddenly rolled himself off of her. She propped herself up upon her elbows, thoroughly annoyed that he had decided now to change tack.

“Where is the letter?” he asked her, anxious to see it for himself.

“You were asleep so I read it and replied for you,” she answered, confident that her actions would prove satisfactory. “What is it? Johnny what is wrong?” she added when his response was not what she had expected.

[LadyBarbossa]

While Ioan detoured the boatmen away, I escorted Ana below to my cabin and poured us both a bumper of rum. I wasn't sure how I wanted this interview to go, but the bottom line was, I needed supplies, and I wasn't about to let my current cargo—small but valuable—be sold or exchanged for mere food. And the last thing I needed was for old Morgan to get wind of what lay hidden below.

"A toast to you, Ana, and old times. I'll make this speech brief (and hopefully save some of my rum—I've seen this woman drink most men under the table). I need supplies and I've run a bit low on funds. My latest pickings weren't worth the cannon shot. The Rakehell is excellent for culling strays from a fleet, or quick cut-and-runs on single vessels, but with only six twenty pounders and four swivel guns, she's no match for a beastie like the Resurrection. Nor would she fare well in a large sea battle, if that be Moragn's plan. I also don't fancy him using her as a patrol vessel, sniper, or insulting her by making her a mere messenger service. So, this be my question. Can we put our feminie wiles together and brew up something profitable to both? Keeping in mind that Morgan is a wily old fox, and has the power to commandeer our ships if he so chooses. An eventuality I would sooner avoid."

There, I thought, that sounds friendly enough. No need to tell her everything—yet.

Taking a hefty drink of the rum. "Morgan only commandeers our vessels if we so allow him to. He'd have to commandeer mine from th' bottom of th' Ocean in order to have it." Then takes another drink.

"You propose something common." Ponders a moment... "But possible. As to profitable... depends upon what's within our reach. With Morgan going after the Spanish... honestly.. that leaves little else for us to procure and obtain. Meaning... we'd have to jump ahead of Morgan to gain the rewards that he intends to gain himself. Meaning..." leans a little closer... " WE attack the Spanish. As well as the merchants. Including that devilish East India Company," taking another drink.

Ponders again. "Perhaps with th' 2 vessels we can find ways to confiscate said prizes."

Then giving the other woman a wicked grin.

"Shall we formulate an' sign Articles?" taking another drink of the rum to finish it.

[Nameless]

"...did you see who they are?!" Demanded Fournier as he quickly reloaded his pistol.

"I give a damn who they are!" snapped Richardson, as he tied a strip of cloth around his arm, in hopes of making the bleeding stop. "Where the hell is Larson!"

Suddenly a loud and hideous shriek echoed down the alleyway.

"My god..." Prayed Richardson as he imagined what terror could have possibly caused a man to sound like that.

"We, we have to go... We have to go now!" Richardson studdered, as he felt the warm stream run down his leg and into his shoe.

"But where?" whinned Fournier, as he joined Richardson as he made haste through the shadows.

"Anywhere but here!" Snapped Richardson. "Anywhere but..."

[Ransom]

"Shall we formulate an' sign Articles?" taking another drink of the rum to finish it.

Sign articles? I pondered the question as I poured more rum. I had been hoping for something a little less formal. I was not overly joyed at her plan to attack the Spanish before Morgan could, but she had a point. With Morgan going after the popish bastards, there would be little left for us. Unless he couldn't roust up enough ships to make the venture worth his time.

And, should I get wind of him trying to commandeer vessels, the Rakehell would slip out of the harbor quick as a cat. However, my biggest worry was my cargo. I needed to get back to the colonies, where eager buyers would be waiting to pay top prices for what lay below. I certainly didn't want the Spanish to profit by it.

I returned Ana's wicked grin with an enigmatic smile of my own. "I'd prefer to know just what those articles might include, before I set my name to them."

[LadyBarbossa]

"Short... to th' point.... Equal apportionments between our vessels. Wouldn't b' fair to our crews if we horded the other' shares, correct?"

Leaning back against the back of the chair. "Nothing as so laid down and bloody damn formal as Admiral Morgan's stringent an' half-witted authored nonsense." A brief pause... " With.. you an' I having th' largest ... of th' shares... of course," grinning partially.

"If you've th' paper an' ink... I'm sure a diminutive declaration 'll be swiftly authored."

[Ransom]

"Short... to th' point.... Equal apportionments between our vessels. Wouldn't b' fair to our crews if we horded the other' shares, correct?"

Leaning back against the back of the chair. "Nothing as so laid down and bloody damn formal as Admiral Morgan's stringent an' half-witted authored nonsense." A brief pause... " With.. you an' I having th' largest ... of th' shares... of course," grinning partially.

"If you've th' paper an' ink... I'm sure a diminutive declaration 'll be swiftly authored."

"Done."

I hand her paper and pen.

"But the sad fact is, I still need provisions before I can leave port. You arrived before me. Anything worth taking close to hand? I'm not adverse to a little land pilfering before we go, if it can be done with speed."

[LadyBarbossa]

Pondering on this a moment. Was it wise to be pirating Port Royal right under Morgan's nose?

Would be a fantastic pull if one could certaining get away with it.

Taking the paper and the quill... writing up the words that marked the 2 vessels in accord and alliance until the pact was broken.

Writing her name to it... then obtained a red wax, melting it to a small spot on the paper and using her ring she stamped her seal. Always the elequent pirate.

Then turned the paper to Ransom... gazing at the other woman with a hard, haunting stare. "Last chance to pull from this."

Then leaned back against the chair.

"As for provisions... despite the warehouse at the docks... there is plenty of shops. But.. you'd need supplies rather than wealthy procurements. So.. " as she drummed her sharp fingernails on the table a brief moment... "I'd be willin'... to loan you some coinage to buy provisions so as not to raise such a stench to Morgan of our business transactions. Would be deadly for the both of us. But.... I do expect to be paid back in full... with interest."

Enphasing on the 'interest'... as there was always something in particular and odd this woman wanted.

[Capt. Sterling]

Tossing items to the floor in his fury to find what he was seeking, Sterling rummaged through his chest as Lilly paced back and forth wringing her hands and wondering how to deal with him at the moment. To say he was angry would be the gravest mistake.

“John, please stop and think about what you are doing?” She said softly.

He shifted slightly, looking back over his shoulder at her. “I am…for the first time since I came round enough to find you in Port Royal. Ah!” he had found what he was looking for.

Buried at the very bottom of his things was an old pair of riding boots. At one time he had owned a stable filled with some of the very best horseflesh in England. Hunting , when not at sea, had been a great passion of his. When he had lost everything, he had still managed to make the time to escape out into the countryside, to ride, alone with his thoughts, when ever the opportunity presented itself. It was the one extravagance he continued to permit himself. He removed the soft leather boots from the chest. Perfectly constructed, nearly skin tight, with a small cuff to protect the knee and the upper backs cut away for comfort, they were a work of art, and although useless onboard ship or for walking about town, he had been loath to part with them. He remembered pawning his silver handled whip only a few months back , his boots, now the only item left to him.

Already dressed, he reached into the left boot and found his spurs, and withdrew them. Silver, their necks arched in the shape of a idealistic bird, delicate rowels gripped in their beaks. These would soon be the next things to sell, he sighed. He sat on the floor and drew on the boots, not without effort and strapped the spurs about his heels.

“John, you should not go out!” Lilly protested, coming to kneel by his side. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and hugged him.

“I hope to find Sir Henry and straighten this matter out. Even poor March knows not what to expect, thanks to thee. Besides,” he said as he shook her off and climbed to his feet. “I need to clear my head. I find I have the most sincere thoughts of strangling thee!”

For a moment, Lilly felt herself bristle. She hated it when he spoke down to her in such a formal tone.

She stood as he buckled on his small sword and went for his coat.

“John, let me send for Dr. Reiley instead. Please,” Lilly suggested.

“What? And have him bleed me again? Have thee not drained me enough in bed as of late?” he stormed.

“Please John ! You know you are ill!”

He glared at her.

“To ease thy mind then,” he growled low. He snatched up the medicine Reiley had left behind for him and downed it.

“JOHN!”

Then Sterling took his hat and left the room to seek a horse to rent, slamming the door behind him.

Once he had acquired a spirited Chestnut he rode swiftly to Sir Henry’s abode in town, only to find he needed to wait an hour and three quarters of the clock, only to be told Morgan was not in. By this time the laudanum had began to take its harsh grip on him. When he remounted and rode to the Sugar Loaf, the coach was gone. Damn, he thought to himself. Not knowing where to search next, he turned the horse about and spurred if forward. Angry, hot and drugged, he galloped like a menace through the streets heading to the outskirts of town, hoping to find a place to ride and be alone to think.

[Ransom]

I took the paper, read it, and signed it with a graceful hand. Then turned, unlocked a small chest behind me, put the paper within, and re-locked it. "For safekeeping," I said, offering a friendly smile.

I decided it wouldn't hurt to have her think we were a bit worse off than we are. I had some coin, and if pressed, could send Ioan out with a bit of cargo to sell discretely—very discretely. Unfortunately, my letter to my brother, Rudd, telling him to forward money here to Port Royal, was already on its way to England. I would needs come back to Port Royal eventually, to see if he had done so. I wanted money waiting for me, not a noose.

I poured the last of the rum into our cups.

"You are right, of course, but the local muerchants require coin before they part with their goods. I can pay for enough to last a short time, a bit longer if we ration, but we'll need to take a ship soon. If that doesn't happen, then you and I can discuss your kind offer of a loan—and any intrest due, if there be such. Or, we can part ways until I re-provender and rendevous later. I'd be of no use to you with a starving crew." I pushed back a wayward red curl, and returned this cunning woman's hard stare with an innocent grin. "So, when would you care to depart?"