Kingdom of Orkney Isles

[JD Black]

[shadow=red,left,300] [glow=blue,2,300]Kingdom of Orkney Isles[/glow] [/shadow]

[shadow=black,left,300] SSDD[/shadow]

The Irishman offered an enigmatic smile to that. None knew in his past, he'd twice been a tavern keep....The Irishman nodded his head, "Agreed, then, agreed. Shall I start tha biddin'?"

"Ai, bid away Mister Flynn." Offered as that bottle rose to take another healthy swig of the Bushmills and then lowered it to the table top to prepare her dice for the next round.

The Irishman would scoop up his dice, despiote his cup, and begin to shake them with his mouth covering the opening. There was alight smile as he began with, "Three twos."

It was a night to wander and wandering the did well as he headed for one port and gradually others. Long leather coat covered his attire, well tooled boots and a wide brim dark hat dipped just so but not obscuring his features. A tavern spotted along the way had him heading in that direction as he'd worked up a mighty fine thirst. Voices heard so at least he knew there were ones inside as he eased the door open in case anyone was standing too close.

A comment would have a glance spared in the direction from which it came. Brow to rise as did a bit more of a smirk. Attention turned back to Jack, waiting.

The Irishman returned his bid, "I've bid three twos."

"Four ones" Her counter bid place.

"Evening," Rugged baritone brogue had that tint of one's throat being parched in a greeting to no one in particular but in general.

The Irishman laughed softly, "Fine, then. Four threes."

"Bah, five twos." Brow rose. A familiar voice heard, a glance in that direction to notate the newest arrival. Brow rose upon seeing whom it was, then attention was back upon the man she sat across.

The Irishman simply smiled, "J.D., I dae call ye a liar." And the Irishman lifted his glass, to reveal his dice.

Her own glass lifted to reveal what laid hidden from his view.

"Thank you," bronze gaze shifting from the play of dice in passing and perhaps a smirk ghosted a moment. "A pint if you would," sidling up to the bar as he took a lean that granted him a view of the tender and the dice game.

Guess who's cursing like a sailor under her breath!

The Irishman slowly smiled softly, shaking his head, "Poor luck, J.D." The Irishman began to rise, ready to head (more like stagger) out. "I be a friend ta ye, J.D., an' sae I will sae this. Iffen ye wish, I shall replace me second wager wit' what ye would 'ave me dae: serve fer a week under tha staff o' the Mane." (d)

"I'd rather bae flogged 'n hung out t'dry than serve another." A low grumble, it was a lose - lose situation either way, at least one would end more quickly than the other. Having to kiss a man, the though just made her innards churn. Never know where their lips have been, and she honestly didn't want to know. "I'll stick t'our wager Mister Flynn, fer I expect yea t'as well on y'own." She wasn't the only one that was going to be doin the kissing, and she was sure his own fate was viewed as she did her own.

"Dark," a much richer brew and he was in for that full body taste. He didn't blame her for the distraction for his had been there also. Smile shifted lopsided that reached the golden bronze of his eyes. The hue changing a moment.

The Irishman paused, to get his bearings. The wheels of his mind began to turn, albeit slowly, as he thought. Where would he spend the night tonight? Here? Or need he find a flop house?

"Captain Jacquotte, if you need practice before the big event..." Leaving it go there but the grin was nothing less than the devil's own.

A glower would follow the Irishman, at least she had her ship to return to tonight. A huff and that bottle was on the rise again. Yes, she's a sore loser, would you expect anything less? A braggart when she won, such was the nature of the beast. It would be Lorcan's comment that had those ocean blues redirect towards him. "Practicing cuttin' throats yea say?" Brow rose as did those lips into a sardonic smirk.

Which had him cracking up. "Aye, just a slight distance down from the lips if you have terrible aim." Feisty tender got an appreciative wink as he fished out enough coins to more than cover it. Pretty eyes she had too. He was one that noticed yes which were held upon a moment before taking up the brew.

[JD Black]

[shadow=red,left,300] [glow=blue,2,300]Kingdom of Orkney Isles[/glow] [/shadow]

[shadow=black,left,300] SSDD[/shadow]

Would seem the cat had Lorcan's tongue, which made her smirk all the more. Feet lifted to settle on the chair across from her and a slouch upon that seat. Bottle on the rise, she still had half of it to down before deciding on another, or to stagger back to her ship and sleep it off.

"All is fair in war and love, a kiss if you can find a way that sates the bid and yourself. Certainly the challenge or pucker up to what is picked for you." He lifted the dark brew in toast before halving the glass. Good ale too as its robust flavor quenched his thirst.

"It bae nae m'choice, so it matters not. I'm stuck wit' who he chooses. It'll be a two bottle breakfast, then two for brunch, and onwards until m'fate is served." Grumbled into the mouth of that bottle. It would rain brimstone before she'd openly offer a kiss to a man in the manner that wager would have her do so. No clue as to whom the Irishman would pick, and just in case, she was secretly scheming the man's fate of revenge. Yes, she lost the wager honestly, but she was far from a honest woman.

"Does it really matter, old man, young, ugly, handsome, you don't care for the kissing but it is the sacrifice of losing. It could be far worse." There was a pause as he saw to another good drink of the ale. The back of his hand swiping over his lips, more to erase the smirk forming. "I would pay to see the deed done. At least be around if it is going to be public?"

That had not been discussed, perhaps there was a ploy she could pull? It was not said she had to kiss some man in a public setting. "Then yea'll pay dearly, I'm nae cheap!" Mumbled to the fellow sea farer. Glance over at him with a bit of a glower. She'd not comment on his first statement, that look said it all.

He was really trying to keep a straight face in all of this and succeeding so far. "A kings ransom at least." He'd hug her just because but she would probably bite or prick him with her knife.

Prick? It would be pushed as far as she could manage, as long as bone stayed out of the way. Another glance cut in his direction. "I'm glad yea find humor in this Mister Foley. I might set a wager wit' yea t'bae kissin a horses arse!"

"Some would say mule." The smile was forming that he was indeed ribbing her in a nice way if she picked up on that. Then another thought caught as his expression became serious leaving the other behind. The wonder on why she hated men to that extreme. There had to be a devastating reason for the venomous way she pursued.

A snort to be her retort to his comment. Bottle lifted to guzzle down the remnants it held. Ahh, good ole Bushmill, guaranteed to put a stagger in the strongest of men's steps. This was her second bottle in three hours time. A loud thud as it came to connect with the table, a belch to follow the last consumption of the high grade Irish whiskey. Staring at the bottle, contemplating in silence; another, or return to her ship and private stock to drink herself into that nightly coma?

At this point, he finally took in the other in a lingering study over each. Not too long it would draw attention but a good enough study. Lastly the woman that was trying hard to speak the language and doing a good job of it considering.

A bit of a grunt as those feet lowered from the opposing seat and another as she rose unsteadily to her feet. A sway to the left, then to the right had her snagging that empty bottle. The turn on heel would make it seem she was about to topple, but erect she remained as she stepped out and continued onwards to the bar. A heavy lean against it upon being reached and the bottle would hollowly thud as it was heavily placed upon the bar.

It would seem that Jacquotte was a few sheets to the wind but he figured she was use to it. Auto pilot from here. Yes, she had a real deep psychological problem that was festering in rum, whiskey and ale.

Hand rose then lowered with a loud slap on the bar's surface. "Where bea the servin wench, I'm needin' more t'drink." Bellowed out in that slur of words. Oh yeah, she was well into her cups, not uncommon for the salt of the sea. As for problems, she had her share, and yes, the abuse of alcohol did numb many things she'd rather never face in a sobering light. Not that any cared, or more importantly, she didn't give a hoot if anyone did, since it would only be compassion of charity, and something she despised the most.

Notice he wasn't offering his couch to be a sounding board. At least not at this point in time. Which he realized she never made any of the business ventures offered either. Her loss, turned a nice coin on them.

Had her own business ventures to deal with, she was far from hurting for coin. Although England and Spain's Hierarchy were fit to be tied, as a few of their ships never made their destinations. A shame that.

JD was liable to be kind to the young girl than an adult or especially male. He was watching in an idle fashion but focus was drawn to the one that had waited on him to study in a nonaggressive way.
[/size]

[JD Black]

[shadow=red,left,300] [glow=blue,2,300]Kingdom of Orkney Isles[/glow] [/shadow]

[shadow=black,left,300] SSDD[/shadow]

She's also drunk and in a piss poor mood for losing. A warning in it's right, to any who knew how foul a mood she could befall into. Age nor gender had a bearing on this, unless they knew just the right way to approach her. The truth will be found soon enough as that hand would slam upon the bar's surface once more. "Where t'hell bea mea drink!?!" More a demand then question. Was she about to get unruly? It could happen.

He had finished off his first ale as he waited. The outburst from JD had him pointing to the refilled glass. "It's right there." Poor lass had been fast and skittered way after seeing to it.

Lorcan's indication of the glass had a brow on the rise. "A glass, dae I look like some tea tottlin' wench? Bottle!" Difficult? You know it! A glance at the woman who spoke to her. "Gentle yea arse!" None ever claimed her to be a charmer, and sadly yet, they'd be seeing alot of her over the passing days. Gaining that Letter was something she'd not be leaving without. Looking back to Lorcan and a snort sounded. "Nae blind 'nuff."

"You're drinking yourself blind Jacquotte," he had a way of rolling off her name in the Irish brogue that became prominent at the moment.Eirian should just plant the bottle over JDs head in giving it to her. She asked for it!

Silence from the popcorn gallery! "Bunch o'pus....." what ever was to follow was cut off by the lift of that glass to down the contents. It would slam on the bar's surface only a moment later. Grumbling as a push from the bar would be necessary to stand. Oh yes, the poor people of Orkney just got a glimps of how she can be. It can get worse, a whole lot worse, if the right buttons were pushed. Foul? She was that way sober, it only intensified when adding that whiskey, like an Indian. Never feed the wild animals beyond their intake ablity. Glassy eyes did move along the shelves behind the bar. The sea dog was contemplating, and from the look in those ocean blues, it didn't look good. Lorcan's comment had her turning a look in his direction. Suspicious by nature and it would outwardly show with her inability to mask thoughts. "Why?"

"I'll tell you what, Captain Jacquotte, I'll show you me ship if you show me yours." More to distract her from bothering the fetching tender.

"Why not?" Simple answer to the simple statement. Except he was getting tired and had a full day ahead of him to dance this game with her prolonged. He turned to the one that tended him as he left her a tip. "Have a good evening, Miss."

Brows furrowed for a moment and a shrug to follow. Got her with that one, no response offered. Turn on heel and she was now staggering across the room. Intent was to find the door and exit, and telling those tables and chairs that got in her way to excuse themselves next time.

He was up and following the staggering Captain as he was the type that if she passed out, he haul her back to Reefer and put her in a bed of the extra rooms he had. They rented a few for the partnership. A pinch to the brim of his hat given the others in farewell before he was in the wake of JD heading out.

She was pretty well weighted down with those flint locks, sword, daggers and other precious weapons hidden, she'd not be a light one haul about. Needless to say, that would not be a problem, her trusty steed awaited her outside. Humor would be found in watching her trying to mount it. Circles would be made in that sad attempt. A bit more out of control tonight in her drinking it would seem, as the liquor was controlling her.

He could at least help her out there as he was over when she stopped circling and made an attempt. She might be weighed down but Lorcan was abnormally strong. He caught her at her waist from behind and hoisted her up, hopefully she didn't go flying over and down the other side.

No flying tonight, save that for another ending to look forward to. Up onto that saddle she would be placed, of course, she would swear she did it on her own accord later. Once safely seated, and she felt this to be so, it was then she'd slump forward over the animals neck. It would be up to him now to get her home.

He gave a slap to the rump of her steed before heading across the street to where he left his hitched to a post. He was quick to mount up and he'd follow her at a distance just to make sure she got back to her destination.

The stallion was use to this, and such would be noticed, as it moved in direction of the docks. Though upon reaching their outskirts, the horse would veer. JD never set anchor in the busy harbors, always elusive was she, and thus to an obscure cove, would be the place to where she'll be taken. Upon arrival, the horse would paw the ground and neigh loudly, which in time will alert those on shore guard to row her out to that awaiting ship. It loomed like in the darkness like storm cloud in the skies. No light shown from it's decks or windows, complete darkness it was kept within.

Once they neared the elusive cove, he held back keeping to the trees in shadow and a good enough distance. He made note of the place but then he had a whole hidden island so could be appreciative of ones desire to remain elusive. Once her men came for her he took his leave. His silent duty seen to and that was his aim.
[/size]

[JD Black]

[shadow=red,left,300] [glow=blue,2,300]Reaper of the Sea [/glow] [/shadow]

[shadow=black,left,300] SSDD[/shadow]

Several of her men had called a meeting with her near the docks. The sun had long since set below the horizon, the long shadows of night shrouded the lands. From the grips of civilization she would swagger, heading to the aforementioned area in which to meet. It took her not long to find the three men who awaited her arrival. Stepping up to them arms would rise to cross over her chest. The stance she took was much like that when at the helm of her ship. A vision that demanded respect, and would punish those who gave it not. "What's this all about?" Tone kept low for company's ears alone. The intensity of those ocean blues would peg each man for a long moment awaiting their response.

The men looked amongst themselves, then back to her before Black Dog would step forth. One of the few men who actually held the Captain's respect. Yet he also knew his place, he's felt the Captain's wrath before, and still bore the scars to prove it. "Capt'n, ye kin we follow ye t'da bowels o'ell, ai?" A clearing of his throat, a glance to his ship mates for support before looking back upon her. "B't wot n'da sam'ell ye doin'? Ye put d'ships n'service t'a crown?" There, he got it out. Now would he keep his tongue, or would she simply cut his throat? He at least asked what all questioned and feared to do. Standing tall, at least he'd die with dignity and not groveling; if that was to be the case; now awaiting his fate.

For quite some time she stood there silent. Focus to shift from one man to the other. Noticing how they began to squirm slightly under her direct scrutiny. Just a tick of mouth's left corner in an amused smirk's showing. "What I do with my ships is my choice Mister Dunlap, as you d**n well know." A bit harsh was her tone. Yet, she understood the men's concern, the increase in the reward. She had it all planned out, and she might as well share a bit of her reasoning with her men. They had the right to know. But, for now, she'll let them squirm a bit more. Sadistic nature always in motion, even when it came to her loyal men.

Those words cut through him like the sword's razor edge. Even a bit of a wince could not be restrained, but he'd not back down. He's already crossed the line, and lived, he'd push it a bit further. "Ai Capt'n, we question ye nae t'er. j'st, w'it all been 'appenin' ... could b'a bit perilous, ai?" Why did his throat suddenly feel very tight? As if she already had her hands about it and squeezing tightly. His ground he held, was it not these very actions he took that got him placed in a position of authority beneath her flags to begin with?

All focus was on Black Dog for a very long moment of silence. It was then she lowered closer to the ground, to where only one knee touched while the other remained bent. Left hand atop thigh, the right would reach down to scoop up a hand full of dirt and lift it before her. Attention turned to the men there-after. "I have simply made an pact of loyalty to these soils so that each ship can ascertain a Letter of Marquis. That, mates, is worth more than all the crown's treasure." Head tilted slightly as her focus shifted from one fact to the other, ensuring they understood. Once certain, she then continued on. "Loyalty upon the soil ...." Her hand tipped slowly, causing the dirt it held to slowly cascade from it and back upon the ground. "...but, once we set sail, maties, our loyalty is to ourselves. What ever we do, we do because it's profitable for us." Letting the last of the dirt drop, she'd dust off her hand with the other and rise. "We do what we must for protection, especially now with all out hunting those who live as we chose." A step closer. "Freedom is not free mates, sometimes we have to pay a small price in which to retain it; this is one." A step back now took as she looked from one to the other. "Any man who has doubts, as always, is welcomed to simply pack their belongings and walk away. Let that be known." A steel edge to her tone, she'd not offer them any chance to ask her another question. Turning on heel, she'd make her way to the docks and that boat that would row her out to the awaiting Black Swan.

He stood there watching as she walked away. Yes, he understood what she was doing, and he would be the one to explain it to the men. As for those wishing to leave? They all knew d**n well you didn't leave from JD's control. Oh yeah, she'd make it seem as if you did, even giving well wishes as you step off the ship to shore. Personal freedom might last a day, or perhaps a week. In the end, it was always the same. Anyone who served beneath the Jolly of Captain Black, never got to grow old to tell that tale to their grandchildren.

[JD Black]

[shadow=red,left,300] [glow=blue,2,300]Reaper of the Sea [/glow] [/shadow]

[shadow=black,left,300] SSDD[/shadow]

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike
The bosun brained with a marlinspike
And cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o'day in a boozing ken
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.


Fifteen men of the whole ship's list
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Dead and be d**ned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
The skipper lay with his nob in gore
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore
And the scullion he was stabbed times four
And there they lay, and the soggy skies
Dripped down in up-staring eyes
In murk sunset and foul sunrise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.


Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ten of the crew had the murder mark!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead
Or a yawing hole in a battered head
And the scuppers' glut with a rotting red
And there they lay, aye, d**n my eyes
Looking up at paradise
All souls bound just contrawise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.


Fifteen men of 'em good and true
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ev'ry man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
There was chest on chest of Spanish gold
With a ton of plate in the middle hold
And the cabins riot of stuff untold,
And they lay there that took the plum
With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb
While we shared all by the rule of thumb,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!


More was seen through a sternlight screen...
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Chartings undoubt where a woman had been
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
'Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot
With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot
And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot
Oh was she wench or some shudderin' maid
That dared the knife and took the blade
By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.


Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight
With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight
And we heaved 'em over and out of sight,
With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well
And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having gained the letters from the Monarch of the lands, one for each of her ships, she had what she came to these distant shores. A most prized possession it was, more important to a pirate than a chest of gold. Lies, deceit, all used in the assertation of these important papers. Her purpose here now done, there was no reason for the swashbuckler to remain, or to keep her ships in their port anylonger.

Yes, they were about to war with the English, and in JD they could very well have found an allie in this. Being hunted by the Ton for the death of their Admiral by her hand, and then having his head delivered to the King upon a silver platter. How she wished she could have been there to see the expressions on that fat royal's face. Just the thought of his shock was enough to make her chuckle.

To gain the letters, she had agreed no harm come to Orkney, and she had abided by her word in this fact. That was as long as she was upon their lands, which was about to change dramatically.

JD had been noticing the arrogance of the lands so called Admiral, and it was enough to be viewed as problematic. In the darkness of the night, she and her crewmen all slipped out to the ships. All three were anchored out in the harbor, never one to dock near the shores where they could be caught without a way out.

The three ships were already under preperation for departure, simply awaiting the command of their notorious captain, to set sail and return to the seas where they belonged. She would helm her flag ship, Black Swan I, while the other two were under the commands of her most trusted men.

The sound of the sails crisp billowing as they were raised to capture the night breeze was heard. From the forecastle, she stood looking out at the distant shoreline. A few lights still burned of citizens that lived the night life as much as she.

"Póg mo thóin, Go hifreann leat. Plá ar do theach, Ní mórán thú!" Bellowed out across the waters as she placed her curse upon the lands. No longer was loyalty held to their soil. They were now as apt to have their ships attacked out at sea, and their women taken captive to sait the lusty loins of her men, then sold at the nearest market once well used.

Her loyalties only laid as long as she claimed a small portion of their soil as her's. No longer did she here, the open sea to be her home once more. She had ports of call she could go to, and these would again be revisited. A final glance towards the shoreline before she turned crisply on heel to look at her men.

"Full sails, raise the anchor. It's time to return to our lives me maties. May they see the day the Black Swans left their harbor to be a day of reconing."

It took not long before the black sails of all three ships were fully raised and they pulled away from the shores which they had been anchored for several months.