Wild Seas

[poohlive]

Wild Seas (now open)

Peter fell down the last few feet of gangplank and landed ceremoniously face first against the docks. A couple of seagulls, scrounging for a morning meal amidst crates and barrels of various supplies, flapped their wings a couple of times and gave him a very angry look for disrupting their meal. Peter would have said sorry, had they not already turned back against the rope tightened crates, pecking their beaks here and there in search of another tasty morsel.

It washe over him, salty and cold. He tried to close his mouth, but the foul stench of brine just overwhelmed any of the senses. His eyes water, nose closed in a desperate attempt never to smell again, and his taste buds would only register pickles and salted pork for a month or so. Even his ears seemed to be affected.

He rose to his feet, slowly, feeling the entire slimy wash of pickle brine drip from his body and clothing. The source of laughter came from the Dessin, a dirty but well know ship, with a healthy active crew aboard. Most of them now were eagerly looking over the edge and sharing in the joke of Peter's wonderful punishment of demise.

"You come back any time now," the captain spat, as he threw down a small leather pouch, it held few coins. Very few, fewer than he had hoped. They were supposed to have an equal share in the loot they had gotten from the Preserve, but Peter's sticky fingers had turned his fair share into little more than a week's worth of bed and meals.

"May you all find good seas and even better women," Peter spoke, standing up straight now, and giving his fateful crew one last bow. Some laughed, others waved their goodbye. A few spat, hoping to hit him square in the eye. Peter's quick feet made sure they didn't.

He walked down the long dock, shuffling his feet. Each step was a wet soppy sound, as brine had dripped into his boots. They were well worn leather, and would last him a good long while yet... but still, now they would always smell of pickles.

Peter thought he himself might always smell of pickles.

The sun had just hit full horizon, the morning making itself known to the small port town of Acellus. Morning workers were up, loading, unloading, fixing ships, docking here, preparing to sail over there. It looked alive and healthy.

Many ignored Peter, most tried to sidestep him already, either because of the smell or what he stood for. His attire did not exactly say hard working seaman out to make an honest dollar.

He was a pirate, or had been until his unfortunate firing just a few minutes ago. But, that was all right. Fine indeed for Peter. Without a ship, he could still be a bucanneer. And bucanneers can make a good living as well. He just needed a system.

No, strike that...

First he needed a bath, and a changing of clothes.

Then he needed a system.

Peter headed into town, to the first inn he could find.

Ooc: I'm opening this up, because I really do want to play this.

 

[Kuuroinochou]

The morning hours were the best times to work. It meant that patrons were still groggy from sleep. They weren't on their Ps n' Qs. Being a pickpocket wasn't the most lavished of professions but it got Lyonesse fed and clothed, she was even able to find refuge at a local inn where some close friends owned.

Dressed as a young boy she smiled as she hurriedly bumped into a rather down trodden man. "Oh excuse me." she breathed a sly smirk on her lips as she had managed to slip her hands into his pockets snagging coin for her efforts. Skuttling along she hurried down the path giving herself time and space before going at it again.

By the time she ended at the harbor she was rewarded with a few miffed shouts of 'pickpocket' and an uproar of merchants. "That's my cue to get going." she muttered having found refuge in the shadows of an alley. Men were looking all about for the young boy that had bumped into them. However discarding her disguise they would find anything but as she wore the garments of a brothel lady. The coin stashed safely under her garments she made her slow gate to her friend's inn. It was time for breakfast and man was she hungry.

 

[poohlive]

"A bath first... room later, at least two days, if you don't mind."

The patron gave a smile and a little bow, showing him the way. She looked good, a rather plump woman with more than ample bosom. Had he not begun to smell like the catch of the day, he might just have tried to woo her out of a few coins for his stay here.

The back room held a couple of nice tubs for bathing, cleaning and preparing some of the larger feasts. One already filled with soapy hot water. It didn't matter to Peter much that some laundry had to be taken out for him to enjoy himself.

In the very true aspect of the bucanneering lifestyle which Peter himself was about to embrace, he eased himself out of the pickled clothing, leaving himself in nothing but a smile against the ample bar hostess and a couple of bar maidens in the room.

They all chose to look at random walls as he slipped inside of the wonderful warm water, and began to get the awful brine off of him. A warm wash cloth helped get the horrible smell out of even the tightest nooks and crannies.

"Could I also get my stuff washed, and ready for me when I have the time? Thank you?"

He began to relax inside the water as one of the maidens went away with his sorry excuse for pirate gear.

 

[littlemissy19]

Kathrine sat in the lobby of her fathers in. She xaniously waited for her friend. She had already told her she didn't have to steal and that she could provide for her, but she did not listen and was now a criminal, in many ways. Earlier she had watched a dirtsy man walked by, looked a bit like a pirate. Eh, but what did she care.

 

[poohlive]

Peter spent a good time relaxing in the water. It felt good, wonderful even. Not many people could claim a hot soapy bath in this day and age. He felt it was a bargain, whatever the price.

By the time he got out to dry himself off, his clothes were back. Cleaned and looking as good as could be, with the wholes and rips in them. He put them on, like a second skin, smiling. Even the boots were clean.

Out in the bar, he asked for a room, paying out of his small satchel of money. A week's worth of money, his ass. From the way things were going he'd be flat broke the day after tomorrow.

"So, boys," He growled out loud, looking at the bar where a could of oiled sailors like himself were sitting. He had a mug of ale, downing it as fast as them.

"You hear anything about the need for work? A boat about to sail?"

"Why, there is one," This was a tall lanky fellow, with a large pointy nose and beady eyes. Reminded Peter of a small rat searching for a piece of cheese.

"Yeah, someone lost a crew member just this morning. I bet they're desperate for someone."

His friend was a bit more rotound, and had a fat moustache like a catepillar on his lips.

"What happened?" This would be great news, right back out there on the sea in less than an hour. Why, he would be feeling just great.

"Apparently he was caught stealing. They threw the guy right off the ship. Drowned him in pickle brine they did."

"Oh, it was pretty funny. People were laughing their asses off."

Peter sighed into his drink. He didn't feel it all that comedic.

"Yeah. Guy's name was Peter. Peter Pickle they call him now. My friend saw him, going to point him out to me when he gets done for the day. Can't wait. Can you imagine? Peter the Pickle pirate?"

They shared in a laugh, and a round. Peter feigned interest, deciding to move onto other prospects. There had to be more work here, more ships, more ways to make money... illegitamate or not.

 

[Cobra2004]

Josh was sitting having a nice leisure morning meal admiring Katherine the Inn owner daughter. Wondering if she would feel as good as she looked. He hadn't been with a woman in a while being at sea for the last two months. being a first mate on Buccaneer ship one had to disguise himself or he would face the gallows.

He had plenty of gold coins to last him a long time till the shit set sails again. This was the time to play here as there sailor of all kinds to mix with.

Was still admiring Katherine when a harlot walks into the inn. he looked at her closely as she reminded him of someone. He raked his mind trying to remember. It came to him as he watched her walk. The boy pick pocket. That's it they must be related he though. The more he looked at her the more he thought she was He.

She could change her clothes and let her hair down but she couldn't change her face. Josh always had a memory for faces. This going to prove very interesting he thought as he looked at her.

 

[LadyAria]

Grace O'Malley

The salty wind blew threw tangles of sun bleached copper locks. Her dark green eyes scanned the shore making mental notes. Standing starboard, she stood in the middle of the familiar dance of docking. Team work was never tighter then when sea weary men make port. She shook her head in disappointment. They'd had a good run, but suffered their losses as of late. Supplies needed replenishing. Notice to be sent for the dead. Her men needed R&R. She needed information. Never a moments rest when the English crown bled the world dry. Motioning to a crew member, she spoke to him without bother to turn to his acknowledgment.

"Where's Colm?"

" 'n da b'ttum, Cap'n," he answered as he tied off.

Her cousin, and first mate, was never around when swords weren't drawn.

"No matter, tell him I've gone ashore. Don't forget about tonight."

"M'gh think o' chanin'. Ya gots a bounte "

Looking down, she regarded her leather breeches and white tunic. While it did not conceal her sex, it made clear she wasn't the proper type. Sea salt, dried blood and meals past stained the cloth. Men's boots to her knees and gold earrings ripped from another's ears outside of Africa, they would know her at sight. She pushed down her captain's hat over her ratty low-hung ponytail.

"Devil be damned, I'll not hide from them bastards."

With that, she motioned for them to drop a boat. Within the hour, she'd be drinking ale.

 

[poohlive]

It didn't take long for Peter to get just what he wanted. A few more pints of ale, a few more loosened tongues, and he had himself a good old fashioned drunken sea chanty. He had a good four men in the bar singing and drinking this early in the morning, early enough for most to still be in bed nursing hangovers.

These were old men, sailors, privateers, pirates who couldn't go out to sea anymore. They retired, the sea just got too hard, or they had gotten too soft. Peter had seen it far too often. The sea takes something out of a man, makes him harder than granite in his early years, but turns him soft as much once his knees grow weak and his hair turns gray.

Still, to hear an old pirate song lifted their spirits up. One got up, began to do an old pirate jig he must have learned in the European seas. Denmark or something, he had that look about him. He would dance, a hard circle of kicks and turning shuffle before he repeated it going the other way. The other few circled around the man, clapping and cheering him on until he fell into his chair, near exhausted from the excersion.

"Used to get quite a few ladies just doing that in my youth," He said, once he had found his breath. He used a good pint of ale to find it, sipping it as though a toddler.

"Still seem to turn heads, look around mate," Peter saw most of the girls in the bar staring at the man who had given them a bit of fun. A few even clapping their hands. He didn't think this man's bed would be all that lonesome tonight.

"Works every time," A roaring laugh from the group erupted, more ale, more beer, more everything. Peter took advantage of this. He had bought the first round, to get them going, loosen them up, more precious coin spilling from his already too small purse, but now they were good sea friends. These men saw themselves in Peter's young eyes and warm smile, they would make sure he was full and drunk for about a week.

Not that Peter wanted to stay at port for that long.

"No ships sailing in?"

One of the older men, who hobbled around on a peg leg of a stump, growled from his chest, "Argh, none that I can tell. Ships coming to port here are more legitamate. They fly under flags of Britian and Spain, not of pirates."

The pirate banner was not a flag you saw hoisted up on ships much these days.

Peter nodded. No work for him. Nothing he could use his real skills for. He could always take up on a real ship, working, loading and unloading cargo. Back breaking work for an actual wage.

It seemed the only thing left to do...

 

[LadyAria]

Grace stood out of the light cast by the lantern. Her finger slide over the pearl handle of her gun as she waited for her cousin. A heavy set dark figure moved up the alley toward Grace. She pulled quickly with her finger on the trigger. It was just Colm. Even stooping at the shoulders, he was a huge man trimmed in fiery red hair. His freckles were made all the darker by the dim light.

"They inside?" he asked while rubbing the back of his head.

"I've not looked," she answered putting the pistol back away. "The crowd seems rowdy and they've been singing. I think we should slip in the back. I'm here to purchase information."

Colm was silent for a few moments.

"I think we should go in and blend. Hide your sex, Gracie. I'm not in want of a brawl."

"I'd take your skin off for your tone if you weren't blood," she grumbled tucking up her hair and buttoning over her coat.

"Aye, I know," he replied stepping up on the porch. "I'd not serve for a woman if not for your father's blood in you."

Grace nodded and stepped through the door. Colm followed her inside.

 

[lil_squirter]

Patricia Worth

Names like Anne Bonney and Mary Reid were known on the seas. Such names could hardly be heard without images of the bloodthirsty nature of the women. And they were not alone, Grace O'Malley, Ching Shih and others claimed the mantle of pirate against the grain of a patriarchal world. More still hid their sex to better fit in with the men of piracy.. but those were a handful amid hundreds of pirates, privateers and buccaneers. Such deceptions were considered punishable by death or worse..becoming property of the ship you once captained to serve at the pleasure of those men who once followed your words.

Some brave women risked and bested the odds, but others worked with less scrupulous means. Patricia Worth, fair daughter with eyes of Caribbean green. The seas themselves seemed to ebb and flow in those twin shades. She'd been taken as a child to be sold off for those very same eyes, only to have the oddest of occurrences follow her. The mighty Haitian Blood sank not one hour after she was beaten for not submitting. The survivors were picked up by another pirate vessel, one which was boarded by the Royal Navy and all privateers aboard sent to have their necks stretched. Traded over and over Patricia became something of a legend herself. An albatross of sorts...so long as she was treated well, any ship bearing her would sail under charmed winds, those who treated her ill would befall some dark fate.

So it was, an unstable crew mutinied and put to port to dispose of the former Captain and his little albatross. Verdigris eyes fell over the warped creaking wooden slats of the pier as she dragged the small bag of her belongings along. Her eyes gave her away, if indeed the tales of her had reached this far. There were figureheads that bore her likeness son a dozen ships, each in hopes that her visage would ensure some luck or prosperity to their voyages.

What was it about her? What made Patricia so entangled in the spun thread of the fates? Nothing, simple circumstance aided by the most superstitious of all men...sailors. But as men had used infamy for years to further their ends so had Patricia been swept along by the tides of destiny from one ship to another to another. Now finding herself land bound once more with no head for it. Her stomach growled with the smells of hot food that came from the building near the docks.

Gathering what little she had, Patricia pulled her satchel into the tavern and squeezed into a seat between two burly dock workers. Another audible rumble from the dark haired woman tummy spurred her to place an order for whatever hot food and bread could be had. Glass of native spirits poured for her as well, Patricia sipped the brew and found it far more palatable than the normal beverages served on the ships. She sat keeping her head bowed, one hand on her bag as she awaited her food.

http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k215/lil_squirter/worth.jpg

 

[Cobra2004]

Josh sat and watched all that came into the tavern as he slowly ate. Things were a little quite when a someone decided to
strike an old sailor tune. Most of them were old sailor to old for the sea, and now lived a quite life and reminiscing about the old days. One sailor even got up and danced some traditional dance to the tune, a dance no doubts that reminded him of home where ever that home was.

They were all having a merry time drinking some already three quarters to the wind. The tavern began to get busier as more people came in. The big red-haired man with a shorter younger man caught his attention. One had to look were careful about every ones face. He had used disguise many time and still does. The younger one looked rather pretty for a man till he noticed the walk.

It was easy to spot the interesting woman that came in next. Josh loved to study people one can learned quite a bit about them. She had eyes that reminded him of the sea that he sailed on for many for years. There was something about her hat kept
him looking at her.

 

[lil_squirter]

Music and warmth flooded the interior of the busy tavern. The thick scent of sea air, unwashed bodies and strong stale drink lingered heavily enough to leave a film one could feel. Different port but the same sort of place, she'd been in many like it. They were all interchangeable, just as each boat, each crew had been. Patricia took another deep pull from the mug before her, that meal so tantalizingly close now.

Music began somewhere off behind her, rough and lively much like the men who's uneven choir of voices gave life to it. She found herself rocking, not just to the music but in emulation of the movement of a boat on the water, something in the solid stability of the land that seemed unnatural to her after so long at sea.

At long last her food was sat before her, chipped bowl filled liberally with a meaty thick stew. It smelled hearty and spiced and like heaven after months of salted pork and fish. Gathering her things Patricia set off from the bar to find a decent seat at a table somewhere, she didn't need much room, just enough to move her elbows. She found a rickety wobbly table to the left of the door, near the open shuttered window that let in the heady sea breeze.

Hardly two spoonfuls were greedily consumed before she felt the weight of eyes on her, one would not live long in these environments without such senses. Leaning over the bowl she paused, sea green eyes pouring out over the occupants until she spotted her watcher. Cant of head tipping the dark sun kissed skin and sending that loose tied length of dark tresses slowly to spill over one shoulder. He was not familiar, nor was he an immediate threat. Like a doe making the decision on if eating in this particular glade was safe, Patricia watched him a moment and slowly returned to eating.

Fingers ripped a chunk of bread from the small loaf and dipped it into the stew, a slow chew of the spice soaked mouthful as she once more looked over the inn and it's inhabitants, eyes coming back to end in a rest on her own watcher.

 

[Cobra2004]

Josh watched her move from the bar to a table away from everyone. The tavern was large and full with all type of sailors. The place stunk of stale ale and she choose to sit by an open window. Fortunate for him it was closer to him and he got a better look at her.

No sooner she take a mouth full when her eyes set on his. He felt like he was looking into two green bottomless pools. He began to wonder what she was doing here all alone in this stinky place. It was as if he knew her and yet he couldn't remember from where or from when.

Her eyes rested on his for a moment, and he wondered is she was studying him. He surely was studying her now. She went back to eating and without raising her head, he could tell she was watching all around her. She had to know he was watching her as she looked at him again, and this time for much longer.

Josh had just finished his meal but was not about to leave yet, thought the stench of this place began to sip into his clothing. He dropped some coins into the table and got up with her eyes still on him. He pick up his cape and his sword and walked to where she was sitting. She looked down into her bowl but he was sure she was looking at him.

"Forgive my intrusion but I have been wondering if we've ever met before. I seam to know you or of you and I had to ask." When she looked up he felt like he was swimming into those green eyes.

"My name is Josh would it be ok if I sit with you a moment. You might be able to jog me memory.

 

[lil_squirter]

Her watcher become more active in his pursuit, rising and well dressed man she could tell now. Even with cape and what seemed to be an admirable weapon, this was not the common folk of the docks. Rising like the incoming tide those oddly pale greens sat to him with his nearness.

"I don' recall sir. I've met many people in my travels. None could afford so fine a cape though I think."

Small smirk, twist of her lips in humor before she swallowed another spoonful of stew and bite of the bread, an inclination of her head though indicated the chair opposite her for him to take.

"Patricia Worth, sailed these last two years with Byron Kincaid on the Rapier. Before that I've been on half a dozen ships throughout the seas and up to Iceland."

She had a good time of experience under her, though she still did not convey the typical images of either ships harlot nor captains woman. Whatever she was, she was not to be judged by her appearance alone.

 

[Cobra2004]

Josh

Josh looked her over a little closer that he had just a moment ago. He just noted that she was very beautiful under her unkept state. Her clothes definitely didn't not do her justice. There was something in her face that nagged at him. It didn't match with her beautiful green eyes he was looking into.

Where could she have come from, and what sort of life did she have. She had the look of someone lost in same way, with no destination where to go next.

"I don' recall sir. I've met many people in my travels. None could afford so fine a cape though I think." She reply.

He saw the slightly smirk on her lips and realized that his approach to her, did sound a little untrue to her. He smiles and she took a couple mouth full of her stew and bread than inclined her head towards the chair apposite her.

"Patricia Worth, sailed these last two years with Byron Kincaid on the Rapier. Before that I've been on half a dozen ships throughout the seas and up to Iceland." She told him after he sat down and looked at her.

I do apologize Miss Worth if I did sound a little out of line. But something about you does ring a bell in my not so good memory I'm afraid. I like to make it up to you by treating you for the food you've ordered if I may.

 

[lil_squirter]

"You'd like to buy my meal? In exchange for a jog to the memory."

A slow thoughtful moment of chewing stew meat before she offered a tentative nod.

"Alright then. Not much of a story teller, or maybe too much truth to call them stories. Take your pick."

A deep pull from her mug and she once more seemed to search his face for signs of deception or ill intent. Seeing neither she nodded to herself and began to speak.

"When I was a child the harbor town I lived in was raided. The town was plundered, all goods taken, all people that could be forced into crews or sold into slavery taken. That started my life anew. It seems no ship I board can be a normal one. They've called me the Albatross and many taken me on for good luck, others who've treated me ill...they've faired less well."

Patricia shrugged and spooned a mouthful of the stew before it went cold. There was more to the story than that, but if anything was to strike a memory surely the bare bones of the story would do it.

 

[Cobra2004]

Josh nodded his head and watched Patricia take another mouth full of her stew before she started talking.

Josh knew of her when she mentioned the name they called her. "Albatross". He remembered seeing a likeness of her on the bow of a ship.
He also remembered some of the tales told by some sailors.

After she told him she began to eat again her stew. He looked at her for a moment and wondered how much of the tales he heard about her were true.

"Now I know why you looked so familiar to me. I've seen your likeness from here on up carved on the bow of a ship. (he placed his hand just below his chest than up to his head). I must say how ever carved it must've seen you. He sure did a very good job.

He looked at her chest wondering if her breasts were as good as the ones carved out of wood.