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Possibly Pirates

James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

a part of “Possibly Pirates”, a fictional universe by Jadeling Hawkins.

The epic tale of piracy and adventure, swashing and buckling, true love and lifelong grudges, curses, monsters, sword fights, a whole world of the possibilities of piracy!

Characters Settings Story

James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Thu May 29, 2008 11:35 pm

This is a sort of "Behind the Scenes" bit about two of the main characters in the Possibly Pirates Universe. It is not open for people to join, so do not bother asking, as I'm afraid you will simply be ignored.

Takes place in spring, 1720, beginning in Dover, England.

Aaaaaand go!
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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Fri May 30, 2008 12:12 am

The rattle of chains carried across the dock, the methodical stamp of boots along the wooden planks alerted those who hadn’t bothered to look up to make way none the less. It was not unusual for prisoners to be marched to a ship taking them to a penal colony, but this was a little different, it was not just any soldiers, it was men dressed in the kilts of the 42nd (Royal Highland) Regiment of Foot, they were Scotsmen, born and bred and they marched a young, thin man between them. The jauntily placed battered tri-corn hat, the rich captain’s coat, the breeches and the expensive thigh high boots folded over. Behind them a solitary figure, an officer of the company marched, the powdered wig perfectly placed under the officer’s bonnet, simple dark blue wool, with a red ball and band around the edge, cocked up on the left.

James walked with the shackles attached to his feet and the ones clamped to his hands, his eyes green eyes bright as he looked at those who gawked at him, a dazzling smile flashed towards the woman, young and old alike. James gave a simple nod to the men and boys, and an occasionally devilish wink towards especially bonny lasses.

Ahead of them a large third-rate ship of the line waited, the naval crew working efficiently to load the cargo that was ear-marked for Port Royal. As they approached closer and closer, James saw a small group of people standing about seeking to board, but they dutifully waited as the British soldiers kept them a respectful distance away from the gang plank. As the Scottish troopers approached the soldiers on deck snapped to attention and began moving to meet the small company.

Both companies met, the kilts of the Scotsmen fluttered in the cool sea breeze that wafted over the dock, the brightly clad soldiers met them in their brilliant red coats and white breeches. The officer who had been quite and merely followed the highlanders stepped forward and snapped a salute to the officer who met him.

“Sah, Lieutenant Abercrombie Thomas MacLeod transferring a prisoner to the HMS Golden Dawn, with orders to take this man to Port Royal and turned over to the Governor there for punishment.” Barked the Scotsman, the English officer exhaled softly as the returned the salute and took the offered papers, glancing at them he looked up at the Scottish officer again, “Lieutenant is this correct? This is the son of Lord MacLeod?”

With a pained expression Abercrombie nodded, “Yes Sah! It is the Laird’s son. Captured as a pirate to be dealt with by the Governor of Port Royal, and punished as the Governor sees fit.” Inhaling slowly the Captain looked at James and nodded his head, “Unshackle him, I doubt he would be able to escape aboard the Golden Dawn. I served under his father and I won’t see his son treated as commoner, even if he acts like one.”

Abercrombie seethed at the Captains comments but held his tongue and ordered his men to release James. Stepping close to the pirate Abercrombie hissed, “Yer a lucky bastard, but this is the end Jimmy. You’ve played the last favor father had and all it could ensure is ye’d not hang in England but in a far away port ta spare the family name.”

James smiled gentle as he looked at his brother, “Abercrombie, I have done what I have done and none’s ta blame but I. Arrgh I am a pirate, but I will die as a MacLeod, tell father that.”

Abercrombie narrowed his eyes and snarled, “I will since it’s yer last request, but James if the Laird refuses ye in heaven and the old rot won’t take ye, I’ll hunt ye down meself and ensure ye never bring shame to the family again.”

James nodded as the chains were removed and turned to his brother, “Be well.” Turning back to the English officer, James bowed, “Captain, shall we find a spot ta shackle a poor wretch like me?”
The writer who cares more about words than about characters, action, setting, atmosphere is unlikely to create a vivid and continuous dream; he gets in his own way too much; in his poetic drunkenness, he can't tell the cart- and its cargo- from the horse.
John Gardner



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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Fri May 30, 2008 12:26 am

The sun shone, but only in tiny streams that slipped through the clouds. It had rained all week, and the sea had turned into a bluer gray that it normally was as a result. The weather was nippy, with drips and drops constantly falling onto heads and clothing to remind the poor mortals who had to deal with the weather just what it meant to be wet. Richelle felt that it matched the moment perfectly.

She was twenty years old, or close enough to it for it to count, and she had very rarely felt so miserable. This was the day that life as she knew it was to change, and by no choice of her own. At that very moment, she stood just aside from the dock where the ship that was going to drag her away from home was settled. It was a fine enough ship, with room aplenty for passengers and crew, and was indeed the sort of vessel she had always dreamed of setting out on one day. Just not like this.

"Mum.." Richelle turned away as the sound of chains clinking announced the arrival of some prisoner, and looked to her mother, a beautiful (despite her age) woman with blond hair and striking green eyes. But the beautiful woman's eyes were lined with grief, she was the very definition of crestfallen. Richelle caught her mother's hands, her own green eyes widening a bit as she pleaded. "Mum, I swear...just give me one more chance, I'll never foul up again!"

The pain in her mother's eyes was nearly tangible as she shook her head, wrapping her arms around her youngest child and only daughter. "This is a chance, love, you just need to view it differently. Life will be better for you after a fresh start."

Richelle's eyes quickly grew moist as she clung at her mother. She felt the tree-like arms, strong and steady, of her father wrap easily around them both. "Argh, lassie...'tis as yer mum says. This is no punishment...'tis for yer own betterment, as they say.." He shared the strong Cockney accent that his daughter sported, though his voice was a good deal deeper and rougher. This was no easy thing, for any of them. But the time for farewells was growing short.

The slippish girl pulled away from her parents, sniffling and rubbing at her eyes with her sleeves.

"Now, now...stiff upper lip, lass...no crocodile tears here..." Her father used the back of his rough hand to brush away a few stray tears. He hefted the small cloth satchel that contained his daughter's worldly belongings and handed them to her. Her mother was sniffing into a kerchief and resting under his arm.

"Aye, dad, stiff upper lip," Richelle replied weakly, offering a wet smile before nodding to both of them. How ashamed they must be...

As she headed onto the ship, she slipped under the sight of the captain, who appeared to be discussing a matter of some importance with an officer of some sort. This was none of her business, and it seemed an ill omen to start off her first sea voyage by making an enemy of the captain.

Once on the deck, she paused and looked once more over her home port, fighting against the tears that were so desperate to rise up and managing a smile as she waved once more to her parents. Sure that looking to long would break her spirits, she turned and headed to the passenger's quarters.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Fri May 30, 2008 1:18 am

Slowly James marched up the plank, his eyes glanced back at the end of the dock, a solitary carriage sat there, James smiled slightly, and lifting his hat he waved it once. As he did so the carriage drove away, in the carriage Laird MacLeod stared straight ahead, his eyes moist, but that was the only emotion he displayed.

Lowering the hat again on his dirty blonde locks, James frowned as his feet thudded on the deck, it was finality, oh sure James could try and escape, but it would ensure a short pursuit and several musket balls into his body. Closing his eyes he barely heard the Captain speaking to him, then he felt someone next to him, glancing down he realized it was a boy, no, well yes a man who looked like a boy standing a whopping five-foot three inches tall. The clean and pressed uniform seemed oddly out of place as the young ensign saluted the Captain and led James to a small berth.

Looking over the deck he spotted a tall lass with flaming red hair, and a smaller brunette, she seemed to be upset over something, probably leaving her husband or lover here in Dover. A smirk crossed his lips, James had several ladies in several ports, but he never had one cry over him, shaking his head he continued on to his small cabin. Glancing down on the officer, James grinned wickedly, “Aye lad ye ever been near a pirate of the Ancient Brotherhood before?” Then his rich baritone laughter filled the air as the smaller man narrowed his eyes, “I think you sir are filth that needs to be swept away, why you are afford this cabin is beyond me but make no mistake I am a Naval Officer and I will kill you where you stand pirate if ye try ta escape.”

James paused, then started laughing again, “Aye lad I am sure ye and the crew could manage that…if I were asleep or drunk…perhaps both.” Before the stunted man could retort, James slipped into his cabin and slammed the door shut.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Fri May 30, 2008 1:37 am

The room was cramped.

That was the only word for it. It was little more than a closet, with room for a bunk and little else. This was perfectly fine with Richelle, as it meant she wouldn't have to share a room with one of the many snooty ladies she had already encountered. It had greatly concerned her when she had passed by a few of the other passengers of the ship, most of them with exceedingly poofy dresses and exceedingly poofier hair. "This isn't that sort of ship, is it?" "Oh, dearie me, I didn't know there were rats on this vessel!" "Heehee, look, they even provide shoe-shiners!" And various other jabs had been uttered. Richelle wasn't in quite the mood to exchange insults with spoiled bits of fluff that were on their way to meet their arranged lovers (which she might have pointed out if she had been), so she had merely continued on to her little closet in the nether regions of the ship. It was the first time she had a room to herself, which was a bit of an adventure as well.

Now, as she sat with her legs hugged to her chest, she listened to the sound of the ship making its way out from the port. The sailors called to one another orders for their stations, and several passengers stood on the deck and waved and called out to their loved ones that they were leaving behind. Deirdre and Mark Oaken had likely already left. They had no reason to stay, after all.

Soon, the lightly swish of the port-side waters was traded for the deep rhythmic roll of the ocean. There was a tiny window allotted to the closet-room, and Richelle lifted her head to glance out of it and see the remarkable blue upon blue that made up the sea. If it had been under different circumstances...oh, bugger, it was beautiful even now. And the rocking of the floor was pleasant, though she could imagine quite easily how it would make some people ill.

One hour out to sea, and Richelle grew weary of sitting on the bunk. If this was to be her last free month or so, then she might as well take some enjoyment out of it. Fumbling around in her satchel, she pulled out a primer. Though she detested the little books, they were most helpful when preparing for a life of solitude in the way of ladyship. And it was better than nothing. So she tucked the primer into her apron and slipped out of her quarters, moving up through the decks as silently as possible out of general concern for being noticed and having to talk to someone. She simply wasn't up for polite conversation at the moment. As she walked, she happened to pass by some rather fetching doors...higher class passenger dwellings, no doubt. But one of them had a soldier stationed outside of it...curious. Some rich up-and-up who didn't want his privacy disturbed, most likely.

Upon reaching the main deck, Richelle emit a soft sigh of appreciation. It was an amazing sight, truly. The sea was an indescribable blue, and when matched with the fluff of clouds and the shade of the sky...even with the incessant rain, it was most pleasant. Strolling about as discretely as possible, she found herself a nice quiet area that looked to be undisturbed by the general populace. Settling down so she could best view the ocean while pretending to read faithfully, she withdrew the primer and set to work.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Sat May 31, 2008 2:52 am

Exhaling James looked around the cabin, he had a bed and a table, as well as a small chest, and…peering closer, then reaching out until his hand felt something soft and bundled, a goose down pillow. At that a smirk spread across his young face, sighing, James looked at the walls, thick, solid and well built, his eyes peered out the window, apparently someone had popped open the latches so the breeze filled the room.

Leaning his ear against the door, he could hear the creaking of leather, a frown appeared on his face, and apparently there was a soldier to ensure he didn’t leave without someone knowing. Sitting down on the bed James examined his hands; the shackles had left red marks where the hard iron had rubbed the outer sides of his hands raw. Pursing his lips, James instinctively felt for a small flask he normally carried, but it was gone, taken the day he was arrested.

The brilliant green eyes narrowed, it was a dirty trick that his dear brother had played on him, the letter had managed to find James in Barbados, and it spoke of his father deathly ill. Short angry breaths filled the cabin, James’ lip curled slightly as he remembered the day he received it. The very heart in his chest was ripped as he read the words from Abercrombie:

Dearest Brother,

I regret I must write this too you, but it is because of you that I do so. Your roving ways, have reached the ears of some very powerful members of the court, and they have decided to petition the King to label you as a traitor and enemy of the Crown. The fact that you sail under a Dutch Flag, and raid the ships of your homeland is bad enough, the fact that you claim to be called Lucky Jimmy MacLeod, has merely added insult to injury.

Father has heard the rumors and dismissed them, protecting you as he always has, yet even this is beyond his ability to shield you. Father is preparing to swear the family lands to the Crown because of your traitorous ways.
James I beg of thee, return to Cairn Wood and turn yourself over to the crown, regardless of your arrogance in this matter, do this one thing so father will not be sentenced to live the remainder of his days a pauper.

Abercrombie Thomas MacLeod.


James sailed home and rushed to see his father, only to be arrested outside the gates to the family estate but the 42nd Foot, Abercrombie’s own command had seized him, and shackled him in front of his father, Sir Alistar, whose horrified look told James all he needed to know, he was lured there and offered as a sacrifice to help Abercombies military ambitions.

Shaking with rage, James slammed a fist into the hull, only to yelp in pain as he grabbed his hand and squeezed it hoping to ease the pain. Lowering his head James whispered, “Abercrombie I will remember the betrayal you perpetrated upon me and the pain you caused father. I swear one day you and I will settle it.”

Slowly the ship pulled away, the sloshing of the water that lapped against the hull as the winds picked up, filling the large sails and propelling the vessel forward. James had lain down on the bed, his boots resting lightly on the railing, his hat covering his eyes. Soon James was deep in sleep, the gentle rocking had allowed him to do something he hadn’t done in a long while, sleep.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Sat May 31, 2008 3:29 am

The days passed slowly. There wasn't much to do aboard a ship as a lowest class passenger, and the thin primer that Richelle had taken her was not only dreadfully dull, but exceedingly simple to memorize. She had gotten to the point where she made a game of it to herself, trying to pick a random page and see if she could recite it without looking. She had gotten frightfully good at it.

But then, though there was little that could be done without treading in some annoyed sailor's path, the voyage was interesting in its own light. The weather had let up, and now the entire surrounding of the ship was crystalline blue, the likes of which man had never seen and would likely never see again. Or so Richelle assumed. As this was her first sailing adventure, she may not have been the most reliable source on the matter. Either way, the color and the movement of the ship and the feel of the salty spray in her face was invigorating like she had never known. It was a pity, a tragedy, that she would likely be spending the rest of her life indoors doing stitchery. Of course, not all of the passengers were quite so enthralled with the thrill of the sea.

The gaggle of ladies, with their eternally fashionable clothes, were seen constantly on the deck of the ship, waltzing about and fanning themselves and flirting with the much agreeable sailors, giggling to themselves and chatting about this and that and who and what. They were extraordinarily obnoxious, nearly enough to keep Richelle stowed away in her cramped quarters. And what they loved even more than showing themselves off and being reminded by coarse seafolk of their ethereal beauties...was to inform those beneath them of just how far below they were. This was common sport for the nobility, Richelle was well aware of this, but it was frustrating nonetheless. Matters were only compounded by the fact that these women were truly gems, faces well powdered and lips polished supremely, their clothing the utmost in fashion and their voices with all the sweet disdain in the world. They had moles where they were supposed to and curls dangling from their heads in just the right manner: there was not a flaw to be picked at in the bunch. So Richelle, with her comparatively ratty clothing and constantly mussed up hair, did her best to avoid the ladies whenever possible.

But on this particular day, it was not possible.

She had been minding her own jolly business, having been recently shooed away from the root of the crow's nest by an annoyed worker, and had settled herself next to an abandoned portion of railing to admire the passing ocean. Nearby, a scraggly woman was stitching up holes in socks while her two filthy little ones played with what looked to be lumps of spare cloth on the deck. Like a flock of preening crystal parrots, the ladies made their way to the area on their daily stroll. There came the sound of giggling, and they came to a stop next to the woman and her bairns.

"Oh my, have you ever seen anything so quaint?" One of the younger ones giggled behind her fan.

"Hmp...to think that we have to share our passage with such common, crass little things!" One of the elder ones sniffed behind hers.

"Tell me, dears, are those the rags you were born in, or do you change them every few years?" The lot of them giggled. The woman paid them no mind, nodding for her children to continue on with their game despite their highly confused little faces. Richelle pursed her lips. She straightened up, remained silent and still for a moment...and then, in a single deft movement, flicked her wrist and sent the primer flying noiselessly to be swallowed into the waves. She whipped around, facing the scene directly, and heard herself snap out, "Oh, why don't you bugger off?"

There was silence. The ladies had ceased giggling, and were staring at the brash raggamuffin in the most collectively affronted manner possible. The woman with her stitching had grown still, looking between both parties and then suddenly deciding that her children would be far better off playing below decks.

"What did you just say to me?!" One of the peacocks demanded, fluttering her fan indignantly.

"Not you, I was talking to the fat one."

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Sat May 31, 2008 11:11 am

James was leaning against the railing, feeling the wash of the spray from the sea upon his frame. The horizon was a wondrous thing to behold, the sea and sky seemed as one, azure upon azure, James inhaled again, there was nothing as exiting nor as freeing as sailing the ocean blue.

Eying the soldier who was standing near him, the musket on his shoulder, the red coat, the breeches all proper, smiling at the man James nodded and started walking again, green eyes watching the sailors going about their duties, cleaning and washing, hemming the lines and repairing the ropes, it was good to be at sea, even if he was a prisoner.

As he and his shadow made their way around there seemed to be a ruckus, several noble ladies stood near a…a slim, petite brunette who held a slight glow about her face. They seemed to be in a discussion, edging closer; James stopped a few feet away and leaned against the rail to listen in. The noble ladies all had wonderfully expensive gowns, and by the way they stood, were most assuredly squeezed into a corset, clearly to show off their womanly wiles.

Again James’ eyes flickered and fell upon the brunette, her hair a tangle, her plain clothes hiding shape, a frown flashed across his lips, he knew what they were doing they were having sport with the feisty girl. Edging a little closer, James leaned against the railing, listening to the exchange, clearly this would be interesting.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Sat May 31, 2008 11:48 am

The fan in front of the main talker's voice dropped, revealing a jaw that had dropped as well. There was a stunned silence for a moment, then the women took a collective step forward. Richelle stayed planted where she was.

"And exactly who do you think you are? Clearly you have yet to learn your place in the world. I'll have you know that my father is the honorable Colonel Fitzgerald! I could have you locked away for speaking to me in such a manner! Hmp, not that I would expect a creature of your..." The perfectly lined eyes flicked appraisingly over Richelle's form, "Status to understand such things." The fan flicked back up into place, but one could still practically see the delicate nose raise into the air. Richelle snorted.

"Aye, so yer pater's some big up-an-up, an' that makes it perfectly decent for you to make sport of those whose mum an' dad can't buy away their ill manners? Here's a thought, eh, why don't ye take a look at the wide world beyond your high-an-mighty snotty nose an' try to see some'at other than monetary values an' fashionable jargon? Not that I'd expect someone of your," And Richelle's green eyes flicked mockingly up and down the woman's form, "Status to unnerstand such things!"

The lovely blue eyes of the lady flared with irritation, and the fan waved a bit faster for a moment. Then she smiled, turning to her companions and speaking sweetly. "Is it no quaint, how accepting they have become on even these fine vessels these days? I recall when there was an actual dress code for ladies, something about dressing appropriate to their gender. Why, now it seems that just any old thing can be transported across Britain's waters! Nobility, women, cargo, urchins.." Her eyes caught hold of Richelle once more, "..at least now they're charging the rats for the ride as well!"

This resulted in yet more twittery giggles. Richelle kept her hands at her hips, her eyes slowly narrowing. There were many things she might have said, but there was an officer standing not ten feet away, and any further bickering would have likely resulted in some punitive action for her part. And as she was already in the midst of a punishment, it seemed unwise to further it. So she watched as the small crowd of giggling women made their way along the deck, feeling quite certain that this would not be the last encounter with the bunch of feather headed...

She heaved an aggravated sigh and leaned against the railing, drumming her fingers on the wood on watching the waves rise and fall.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Sun Jun 15, 2008 12:17 am

James chuckled slightly as the argument seemed to end; he turned his green eyes back towards the waters. Exhaling slowly he lowered his head and watched a large ray swirl and flutter near the surface of the blue waters, it flashed the white-gray underside before the dark gray and stripped upper sides came into view again. Off in the distance James could make out a sail, although it was a great distance away he could see it against the horizon.

Yawning James turned around and let the sun caress his face, while he seemed at peace, it was far from the truth. His mind was racing, every inch of the ship he had examined so far had indicated that he was indeed upon a warship but there were a good deal of civilians aboard, many seemed to be of the lower nobility.

His ears could hear the call from the masters to the crew, the resultant replies and the rustle of canvas or the water slopping upon the deck as the hands swabbed it with rote. Opening is eyes, James peered again at the brunette she continued to stare off into the empty azure before her. Turning towards the small officer that always seemed to accompany him he looked at the man, “Ensign? Am I to understand that I am invited to the dinner this evening held by the Captain for those minor lords and ladies aboard?”

The doe-eyed boy blinked then said, “Aye ye are sah! You are whatever else that ye may be, still a laird or would be…sah!” James nodded and lowered his head, doffing his hat as he leaned into the man, “Fine I would request a guest at the dinner. If you please accommodate me in this I shall be assuredly passing ward ta the Captain ye have been of the utmost competence.”

Stamping his foot down the man was angry because he felt he was much more than a glorified nurse maid, but he had been given this position to wet nurse this noble. Narrowing his eyes the ensign was ready to erupt in an explosion of words but managed to contain himself as he straightened his coat, his back ram rod stiff as he nodded, “Of course sah, and who might the lady be?”

Grinning James clasp a hand around the scrawny shoulders of the five-foot three inch tall man, “Ahh me lad come with me and I shall tell ye of this.” As they walked away the ensign stopped and pulled away, his eyes larger than normal, his jaw hinging and unhinging as words struggled to come out of his shocked and addled brain. With a quick glance around, James again clasp the man’s shoulders and pulled him towards the quarter deck.

Shortly afterwards the ensign stomped across the deck and stood in front of Richelle Oaken, he snapped her a smart salute and said loudly, “Milady the Lord of Cairn Wood has requested you accompany him for dinner at the officers table this evening. It would be a great offense to the gentleman as he has seen how you have been mistreated by the cows parading around in finery.” After a moment the ensign snapped another salute and marched off towards the quarter deck where a number of officers and lords stood admiring the ship and the ocean that was before them. Seated on the bottom step was what obviously a pirate, the ragged coat, the blond hair that hung from under the tri-corn hat, the rings that bedecked the hands. The pirate stood with a soldier standing watch over him, the ensign tromped up on the quarter deck and saluted the captain and pointed to Richelle, the Captain looked then his face turned a deep purple as he turned back to the ensign who cowered a moment then said something. The captain slammed his spy glass shut with such force the sound carried on the soft winds, along with a “Fine!”

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Sun Jun 15, 2008 12:51 am

Richelle blinked as she was approached by the ensign, and her stomach twisted into nervous knots. Had she gone too far with the Ladies, despite her efforts to reign herself in? Was she going to have her wrist slapped and clapped in irons? Her well developed flight response nearly kicked in, but really, where could she go? But what he said caused her jaw to drop in a most unladylike fashion. "The who of what is inviting me where??" She heard herself issue this stunned question, but was extremely grateful that the ensign didn't dignify it with a response. She knew what a Lord was. And she knew of Cairn Wood. And surely, she knew who she was. But what business did these three facts have being in the same sentence together? Preposterous!

And such an invitation...how high up must this Lord of Cairn Wood be, to be able to get the ensign to speak so about the high-and-mighties? At least high enough to get her tossed overboard if she refused his invitation.

Leaning back against the rail, she blinked once more as the ensign scurried off to deliver the news to the Captain. But she was distracted from watching him, and even hearing the sharp reply, by the sight of a man. Men were no mystery, they were all over the place. She had even seen some with dirty blond hair. And a few with green eyes. At at least one with a combination of the two. But this particular one, whose very being practical dripped the word 'pirate,' held a certain aura about him...as though he were a walking grin. Which seemed exceedingly odd, what with the fact that he was clearly a prisoner, surrounded by guards in the middle of the ocean. But his eyes, even from this distance, sparkled.

Tearing her eyes away from the eye-catching pirate, Richelle pushed her bangs out of her face and looked back out to the sea, sighing rather deeply. What a strange day. The Lord of Cairn Wood? It had to be a joke. Well, it seemed she would just have to wait and find out. What a chuckle her parents would get out of this!




The rest of the day had passed without any more surprises. Richelle now sat in her room, frustrated to the very ends of the earth as she tried to make herself look appropriate for a meal with the Captain. She had nothing passable as far as clothing, and her natural beauty was far from brilliant enough to make her commoner's dress insignificant. She normally wouldn't have minded as much. But this Lord (whom she had affectionately begun to refer to as 'Jolly Old Swine,' for surely he had invited her for a laugh after watching her get trounced by the flouncing floozies) had seen fit to call her out to supper with him and various other stuffed peacocks. How could she show up looking like a penniless strumpet?

Finally, she gave up attempting to spruce up the rags she had. She put on her cleanest dress, combed out her hair and set it back in a single braid draping down to her waist. Her face and hands were washed, and she looked as decent as ever she was going to with what she had to work with. Taking a final glance in the small mirror, she sighed and headed out. At least she knew which forks to use when.

Moving quickly up the stairs, she quickly went over in her mind all of the rules for dealing with nobility. When to curtsy and how, the politest way to stay quiet...perhaps she could get through the meal with the Jolly Old Swine without embarrassing herself, if she just stayed silent.

Once she made it to the area where the meal was to take place, she cleared her throat and curtsied to the guard outside the door. "I beg your pardon, but is this where the Captain is taking his meal?" Wonderfully spoken, her accent stifled to a degree that would have made her aunt proud.

The guard was less impressed than Richelle was. "Aye, 'tis. And the passengers eat below decks. Off ye go."

Richelle's eyes narrowed slightly, but she managed to keep her tone polite. "Forgive me, but I don't think you understand. I was invited to join him, by the Lord of Cairn Wood."

The guard arched one brow, his mouth curving in a way that suggested a laugh. Richelle bit the inside of her cheek, fighting off a growl. A good joke indeed.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Sun Jun 15, 2008 1:22 am

The ensign who had been pacing waiting for Richelle to arrive coughed slightly and then said in his most officious manner, “Errmmm…yeah right…umm right then let her in Sergeant, she has been invited as a guest of the Lord of Cairn Wood.” With that the small ensign nodded and stepped through the door before the much taller and brawnier man could respond, nodding to Richelle he whispered as they stepped into the Captains quarters, “Eh wot’s yer name tot? Wot do they be calling ye?”

Once Richelle stammered out “Richelle Oaken”, the ensign snorted and turned towards the table which had a slew of coifed and elaborate powdered wigs, officers in their crisp uniform jackets and seated among them all a…pirate, the same blond haired, green-eyed pirate she had seen earlier in the day.

“Ahem…may I present the second…ur..guest of the Lord of Cairn Wood, Milady Richelle Oaken…” With that the small ensign nodded and led Richelle to the empty spot near the pirate. There was absolute silence as this was done. The ladies who had argued and mocked her earlier watched in abject horror as the young insufferable commoner was seated across from them, along side the mangy looking pirate.

The matronly one sniffled and looked towards the Captain, her eyes wide in horror, “I demand you remove this…this ragamuffin and this…manacled….pirate.” she said, her voice shrill as she glowered at the pair seat across from her, others began shouting their disapproval, at which point the Captain slammed his hand down on the table, his voice roaring above the others as he stood angrily, “Damn it! Silence this is me ship, and I have been asked by the Lord of Cairn Wood to show mercy upon these two wretches and have them dine at my table. I believe that should be sufficient for all of you…is that clear?

James blinked once then looked at the woman introduced as Richelle Oaken, “”ello I’m the manacled pirate?” and with a grin he doffed his tri-corn hat allowing the blond locks to cascade down and land on his shoulders. The green-eyes twinkled with a mischievous light, the smile that crossed his lips almost infectious. With a nod he handed her a biscuit and said, “They aren’t bad, dip them in the fat with the goose and you’ll see what I mean.” Glancing at the matron across from his James narrowed his eyes, “Argh… I be a pirate lady, and one feared across the lands and seas of the British Empire. Be warned I trifle not with such clack ye have spilled from yer whorish lips.”

The lady sucked in her breath and slammed her hand down, the man on her right stood and grasped at a butter knife and pointed at James, the Captain roared again and shouted, “Enough! Mister Ewbanks put down that butter knife unless ye plan on using it to administer butter to a roll so our esteemed guest many enjoy the rolls we have been graced with.”

Slowly the chaos became a very stilted, formal and highly uncomfortable dinner as the haughty ladies made snide comments about the couple across from them, just loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to understand what was said.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Sun Jun 15, 2008 1:38 am

Richelle at first felt quite certain that she was going to die...simply shrivel up and die with the embarrassment. Once she was in her seat next to the handsome pirate, she slowly shrank into it as the commotion started. But after just a brief moment of insecurity, she straightened once more, green eyes flashing indignantly as her right to be sitting there was called into question. She very nearly forgot her earlier decision to stay silent, but was saved by the Captain hollering down the nobles at the table. As they all settled down, albeit mutinously, she sat up straight and resolute, every once in a while looking directly at the gossiping ninnies across the table as though to remind them that she was there. And not going anywhere.

When the handsome pirate, whose eyes were quite stunning up close, doffed his hat and introduced himself, she couldn't help but return the smile. With a gracious nod, Richelle chuckled softly and returned the greeting with, "'Ello, I'm the ragamuffin. Pleasure ta make yer acquaintance, Mister Manacled."

When he spoke to the lady that had insulted him - them - Richelle nearly choked on the water she had been sipping. She bit down on the rim of the goblet to hide her amusement, though she couldn't help but marvel at the gall of the prisoner. But then, what did he have to lose?

Once the butter knife was returned to its proper location, Richelle accepted the biscuit from the prisoner and began oh-so-daintily working on her food. It was quite delicious, far fancier than anything she had eaten in the last...decade, or so. And since the ladies across the table had deemed fit to continue on gossiping...

"I say, 'tis quite the lovely ship, this...a pity about some of the rabble on board her, eh?" She asked lightly of the man next to her. "I can't even imagine how they must have earned their classier boarding...though surely there be some mightily pleased officials back in port."

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Sun Jun 29, 2008 11:45 pm

James smiled tightly as he eyed the shrews before him, coughing he averted his head and leaned next to the slight, ragamuffin that sat next to him, “I am sorry for this…” he whispered as he whipped his head around and reached across the table for some gravy, however the chains between his manacles flew up and smacked into a pitcher of cream, causing it to totter then as James continued for the boat of gravy, seemingly oblivious to the cream he gave one extra nudge and it tipped over. As the alabaster liquid hit the table and flowed freely out of the pitcher, rapidly reaching the far edge and falling over, splashing onto the pale blue brocade dress the matron was wearing.

As a stunned silence filled the room, James, in the middle of retrieving the gravy stood quickly, bumping the table, causing more of the cream to slosh and splash on the ruined dress. “Oh my…oh my…” is all James could say as he started to reach over the table, again the chains causing problems as a wonderfully cooked pheasant, greasy and glistening was carried and landed on the tightly constrained breasts of the younger woman next to the matron. With a shriek the young woman stood up and grabbed a ladle full of fresh mash and swung it towards James, who promptly ducked and the flying food smacked a naval officer in the face.

The wife of said officer then grabbed a loaf of bread and swung it across the table smacking the young woman in her head, causing her to totter and fall into the lap of a now laughing young man.

As more roars and shouts started to carry, the poor captain trying to maintain a semblance of civility yelled for order, going so far as slamming his plate on the table, which in turn caused a decanter of wine to tip and slosh its contents on another lady.

Sitting down in apparent amazement as food and curses started to fly across the table, James quietly grabbed his plate and slid under the table, as he did so he looked into the eyes of the young woman and said, “Care for a spot of dinner away from this ruckus milady Ragamuffin?”

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Sun Jun 29, 2008 11:59 pm

Richelle, despite years of training to maintain a composed and ladylike expression no matter what, gawked. The handsome, manacled man next to her had somehow shred the tense peace in the dining room, and now there were potatoes flying through the air and soggy biscuits being shoved into gentlemen's ears. It was really quite remarkable how quickly the tightly strung noblesse dissolved into a desperate struggle to slam food into one another's faces. So remarkable that Richelle didn't even notice that she was missing a prime chance to show a bit of violence towards the detestable ladies she had squabbled with earlier.

As the green eyed prisoner slid under the table, Richelle followed him with her gaze, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile. He invited her to follow him, and she shrugged as she retrieved her plate and goblet. Ducking under the flight path of a cooked goose, Richelle slipped under the table cloth and settled herself cross legged across from the gentlemanly pirate.

"Why, thank you, Master Manacled. I do say, miraculous who they'll let aboard fine vessels these days, is it not?" She chuckled as she began picking at her plate, not bothering to reach back up for the utensils. If she had, it would have been too tempting to tuck the silver devices into her apron pocket. And she had promised her parents that she would attempt a reform.

While the fight raged on beyond the confines of the tent-like tablecloth around them, Richelle allowed herself a few discreet closer looks at her unusual companion. She had heard many tales of pirates, of course. Blood thirsty baby eaters with coarse beards and rotted teeth, her mother had always said. But this one had emerald eyes and pearly choppers, and an infectious smile. While Richelle had yet to meet a pirate that fit her mother's description (not that her sampling had ever been large, but still), this one seemed only to add to the disbelief of her mother's words.

"I say, old chap," Richelle spoke in a chipper manner, as though the pair were enjoying a casual meal without the shrieks and grunts of nobles battling one another, "Would you by any chance like those irons removed from your person? It seems they hardly aid your eating ability, they can't be comfortable."

She was no fool, pirates were dangerous. This one was a prisoner, there had to be a reason for it. But there was no reason to make the poor man suffer when she could easily pluck a salad fork from the table above and give him a few moments comfort.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Fri Jul 04, 2008 11:16 am

The pert young girl surprised James when she offered to remove the chains that he wore. Pursing his lips the pirate winked at her in a conspiratorial way, “Arrgh indeed lass ‘twould be a grand thing to be free to eat me meal like a laird of the castle here with a bonny lady of the likes I’ve never laid me eyes upon before.”

As James hefted the heavy chains to held them for the lass to work on, he spotted a pair of slippered feet, slippers that belong to young lady who accompanied the matron. With a devilish grin, James held up a finger and leaned over and grabbed the ladies ankles, which prompted her to scream and in doing so toss her plate in the air, sloshing food everywhere only to land on the wonderfully intricate powdered wig of the matron. Quickly removing the woman’s shoes n short order, James returned to the seated position he was in and offered the wonderfully constructed and inlaid supple leather slippers to the ragamuffin, “Here lass I believe these be sufficient payment ta release a member of the right and proper Ancient Brotherhood.” James said as he smiled sweetly.

Before either of them could act a shrill wail filled the room, as apparently one woman had managed to get gravy down her bodice, which in turn prompted her escort to begin to wipe it away, and in the process touching her in ways that merely added to her embarrassment at the sight of her being cleaned by the sailor.

James frowned and said softly, “Perhaps lass we be leaving this party? Shall we find ourselves out and scurry ta the galley below fer a spot of simpler faire?” Without waiting for the girl to reply, James began crawling towards the door, the chains clanking as he crawled under the table for the exit. The whole while shouts and curses, a tankard hammering the table as the Captain was trying to restore order, woman shrieking and slapping one another and even a poor unfortunate man who tried to intervene in the melee.

Finally reaching the door, James eased it open and crawled out hoping the woman followed him.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Fri Jul 04, 2008 12:29 pm

“Arrgh indeed lass ‘twould be a grand thing to be free to eat me meal like a laird of the castle here with a bonny lady of the likes I’ve never laid me eyes upon before.”

Richelle couldn't help but laugh at this. The very thought, this man being a 'laird' and she being the bonniest 'lady' that he'd ever seen. But dinner was always more interesting with people that had a good imagination, and a sense of humor to boot. Might as well play along. "Aye sah, and 'tis the greatest of honors ta be a guest beneath your most noble of tables. I thank ye humbly for the invitation."

She grinned and had just been going to grab a knife (or a salad fork) when the chained pirate with the eyes that lit up with his words yanked the shoes off of some lady's noble feet. There followed a great deal of shrieking and panicking, and Richelle was quite surprised that the man hadn't received a kick to the head. She giggled at the feat, and the gift of the shoes that were far sturdier than her own.

“Perhaps lass we be leaving this party? Shall we find ourselves out and scurry ta the galley below fer a spot of simpler faire?”

Richelle watched the pirate make his way for the door, drumming her fingers on the floor. Should she follow him? Though he seemed like the most honest of gentlemen, his shackles were the absolute clearest of indications that he was not entirely square with the law. She still didn't know what his exact crimes were, but she was well aware that certain individuals labeled as 'pirates' performed less than savory acts with innocent individuals.

But when she thought about it, she herself was not entirely the unassuming lass that she seemed to be. In all truth, she was on this ship for much the same reason as the green eyed pirate. The only difference was her lack of manacles. And if he had wanted to, he could have easily done her some foul deed then and there...the nobles that were scrambling around them would likely neither notice nor care.

And aside from that, he was a truly captivating individual. Far more interesting than hanging around under the table alone during a food fight of the higher class would be. So with a grin, she started off after him. Halfway there, she noticed a small gleaming object on the floor: a lady's comb that had likely fallen from a powdery pile of hair in the scuffle. Chuckling at her good fortune, Richelle picked the comb up from the floor and tucked it into her own ever-messy hair for safekeeping. Popping a tooth off of the comb would be an effect way of removing the pirate's metal cuffs for him.

Soon, she made it to the door and eased into the fresh night air after her new friend. Carefully shutting it behind herself, she bit her lip and held back a laugh as she straightened and smoothed out her skirt. "Blimey, has no one any proper manners anymore? Tsk tsk."

Grasping the pirate's arm, she towed him around to a more discreet area before guards were summoned to look after the dinner guests. Chuckling softly, she removed the comb from her hair and with a sharp tug, snapped off one of the sharp metal teeth. "Here we are. Let's see those shackles, shall we?"

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Tue May 19, 2009 2:35 am

Richelle bent almost in double, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she worked. She had some unarguably successful experiences with shackles and the removing of them, but then that was in the city, where there were places to run and hide afterwords. The pirate certainly couldn't run and hide forever, not on this ship. His chances of being caught and reshackled and returned to his fate were...well, inescapable. Just as Richelle's fate living a quiet and bored life with her uncle, forever under suspicion and never granted the small comforts of complete trust and forgiveness, was inescapable. Perhaps that was why she was, arguably, wasting her time in freeing the pirate's hands. As a final proclamation to fate that she would ever remain defiant.

Soon, she had the shackles off, and she set them clinking quietly on the ground. She grinned up at the rapscallion, even knowing that she had just potentially placed herself at great risk. The man had been locked up for a reason, after all. Maybe now his intentions for her were darker than she even dared imagine. Maybe there'd be nothing left of her to arrive at port and meekly fall into the shadow of her uncle and his obedient children. Maybe that would be preferable.

"And so what do ye do now, sir pirate?" Richelle asked, staring up into the jolly face of the man. She did not sincerely believe that this being, whose eyes shown so brightly even in this dark light, could possibly be of a nefarious nature. But then, looking at her own homely form and quaint clothes, none would expect much in the way of thievery and fleet thoughts.

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Skallagrim on Thu May 21, 2009 12:07 am

"And so what do ye do now, sir pirate?"

James watched with skepticism as the lass managed to pick the lock of his manacle, "Ahh me poppet, where be ye learn'in such tricks?" He asked as he rubbed his wrists, it felt good to have those heavy shackles removed. His eyes gleamed as he looked at the girl again, his estimate of her had risen considerably.

Raising a finger to his lips as he pursed them, James paused a moment then flashed a huge grin and started into the gloom of the passages below deck, "Come, we've ta find a proper meal fer a laird and lady." James moved with a certainty that he appeared to know where he was going, as they passed a door James paused a moment, pressing his ear against the lacquered wood. With a knowing wink he turned and motioned the slip of a lass to follow him further into the gloom.

After a moment they entered the galley of the warship, the cook was busy cleaning a pot and failed to see the two enter. Wrinkling his nose James slipped up next to the cook and said, "Oi! The Lady Carmella du Havoc is hungry and the captain and his party are…lacking in manners!" With a start the cook jumped, dropping the heavy iron pot to the deck, with a whirl the rather portly man peered at James, his mouth agape, his beady eyes narrowed as he turned to Richelle.

"Wot? Thas not a Lady!" the cook said as he pointed a ham sized fist at her.

James started then whipped off his tri-corn and held it before his chest, his eyes low as he reached up and placed his other hand on the rather beefy shoulder of the cook. "By all that is great and good, of course she's a lady you son of Yorkshire steer. She is incognito, as she is on her way to marry the Grand Duke of India hisself." With a wink towards Richelle, James nodded earnestly and continued, "She has hidden herself among the poor people as she wants to start her new life with the Grand Duke with her heart clean and open to the suffering of the Laids children."

With that, James shoved the man to the deck on his knees, as he crashed to the deck, James fell to his knees next to him, "So what say ye lad, can ye spare the Lady a meal fit for a queen?"

The man nodded as he lowered his head, "Certes, I can…mi'lady I am sorry I dinnae recognize ye sooner, forgive me please." James nodded and hopped to his feet, pulling the heavy bulk with him, "Very well, however I must warn ye lad, divulge the Lady's identity and this I swear, I'll choke those words down yer throat!"

The cook nodded and began to prepare them a fine feast of quail and roasted potatoes.

Finding a barrel James rolled it out so Richelle could sit, "Well lass, shall we enjoy the King's finest as we feast?" And with that he pulled a bottle of wine from the larder and popped the cork. Pouring the red liquid into a pair of tin cups James smiled warmly at Richelle, "So lass what be the reason yer aboard this ship of fools?"

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Re: James and Richelle: Before the Hurricane

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Thu May 21, 2009 1:22 am

Richelle had made a valiant effort not to giggle and snort at the pirate's made-up story. He certainly had an imagination on him, he did! She did her best to look noble but sacrificing, nodding daintily towards the cook as he apologized and promised a splendorous meal for herself and her escort. She cupped her hands together before her, as she had seen the richer women do when they weren't holding fans and waving discretely at brawny blacksmiths and the like, and stepped delicately across the dark floor to the proffered barrel come seat.

"Aye, Milord, let us drench our good spirits in e'en finer spirits, eh?" She returned with a grin as the pirate fetched them finer wine than she'd ever even sniffed. Then he smiled, and what a dazzling, warm smile it was, and asked a merry, innocent question that twisted Richelle's innards quite painfully. She felt her mouth droop into a dismayed frown for just a moment, before she tugged it back up into a bemused smile. She paced herself with an appreciative drink of wine, before offering a small shrug.

"Well, that's an answer in a question, innit? I be a fool, accourse, simply one wiv a bit less bacon in me larder." She lightly swirled the tin cup, watching the red liquid circle around in her hand. She shrugged once more. "I be on me way ta live wiv me uncle, not far from where this fine boat will be docking. From there, I donnae know what awaits."

She snorted a bit, and rolled her eyes as she took another sip. "Then I suppose some stuffy Lord or other saw sport in 'inviting' me own bonny self ta that lively feast earlier. The sop probably thought 'twould be jolly ta watch me try and pick out the proper fork for salad, eh?"

Then she turned a keen eye on the pirate. Surely his story was far more fascinating and a great deal less embarrassing than her own. She was a mere thief...a pick pocket at the best of times...who was being sent off to the one step below a nunnery. But he was a pirate, was he not? Surely there was swash buckling and derring do in his tale, and at least a dozen tales contained in the manacles she had just recently freed him of. "And what of ye, sah? Wot caused ye ta deign an' join us fools within this fine vessel, eh?"

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