IGNORE THIS THREAD. I HAVE A NEW IDEA THAT WILL BE A GROUP ROLE PLAY. (I am leaving this post up until I copy it to the new thread.)
"Black Sails: New Beginnings"
John St. George rose from the throne-like chair in his Quarters as his Quartermaster entered. The crew of the Stormy Dawn had spent more than three hours discussing his future as Captain of the pirate ship. The expression on his right hand man's face was the first indication that the vote hadn't gone his way. The four men following in behind him, flanking him with their daggers, swords, and pistols at the ready, were his second clue.
"So, are they sending me overboard to shore?" he asked, the sound of his own sword dangling at his side reminding the four men that he was still armed. He continued his inquiry as he rested his hands casually on the butts of the already cocked flint locks in his belt, "Or just overboard?"
"You know the Articles, Captain," Louis said. One of the men behind him cleared his throat conspicuously, to remind the Quartermaster that Captain Blood was Captain no more. Louis took notice of the correction with a half glance back and the continuation, "You will not be harmed so long as you go willingly. You'll be rowed to shore, with the standard severance stipend and your personal possessions, as well as your share of the last prize."
John was disappointed to learn that he'd been driven out as Captain, of course. But he was happy to hear that he would at least continue to breath once he'd left this room. He chatted with his Quartermaster a bit, then -- under guard -- spent just a few short minutes collecting his worthwhile possessions. They fit easily in a wood and iron chest and a canvas bag, not uncommon for a seaman, a pirate, or even a pirate Captain.
Six men loyal to John had chosen to leave the Stormy Dawn with him. As the launch transported the seven away, John looked up at those who would have no more to do with him, some jeering, some simply wondering whether they'd voted correctly. John knew they hadn't, of course. His argument to the men before they casted their votes had been taken as unconvincing. His promise to them before they cast him aside had been laughingly dismissed. If only he'd been able to give them more details, reassuring facts that the great treasure for which he'd spent the past three years searching and researching was in fact there to be had. But despite their oaths of loyalty to their now deposed Captain, John had known that to give such details would lead to treachery. Some greedy soul would inevitably take it upon himself to try to find that treasure on his own. And knowing his own recent luck, John knew that the likelihood of that person being successful was probably higher than his own odds of that same success.
Three days later:
John unbuckled his scabbard and, snatching the dagger that had been held against his torso by the belt before it fell, waited for the two cutlass armed men to meet him a dozen yards from the home's entrance. As the men disarmed him, he explained with unexpected politeness, "I'd like a word with Lord Howard, please."
"Fuck off, pirate," a third man growled as he neared. "Be lucky I don't have you cut down here and now."
"If you do," John continued, showing no concern, "your Master will be passing on a prize of indescribable value."
After another couple of minutes of back and forth profanity laced conversation with the noble man's body guard, John found himself sitting in a drawing room, flanked by the two men from the entry and two additional men who'd been called up from elsewhere. He stood at Lord Howard's entry, causing the armed men to tense. After given them a quick glance, he gave the noble man a very slight bow of respect, then said, "I mean on one harm, m'lord. I am only here to talk. I have a proposition ... business proposal ... in which I think you would be interested."
"Business with a pirate?" Howard asked, laughing with a conspicuously derisive tone. "Who exactly do you think I am?"
"I think you are Lord Alfred Howard, Earl and Governor of New Providence Island," John began with a confident tone, "But more importantly to men such as myself ... pirates as you like to call us ... you are the man who buys our ill gotten gain ... repackages it as legitimate goods ... and sells it in the American Colonies using your good name ... thereby lining the pockets of the entirety of the population of New Providence in a way that keeps everyone happy."
By the time John had finished, Howard was seated near a roaring fire with a wide smile upon his face. "I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else, my good man. I run a legitimate business ... legitimate trade between the island's legitimate businessmen ... legitimate land owners ... and their counterparts in the Colonies."
"You have twelve ships, m'lord," John continued, ignoring the man's declaration. "They move between Nassau, Boston, Charleston, and other ports, carrying the legitimate goods of New Providence's farmers and businessmen ... side by side with the goods me, my men, and my fellow pirates procure from those legitimate businessmen with whom you do not have protection agreements against piracy. You, yourself, m'lord, may never hold those pillaged goods in your hands ... but their are sold to your Agents at the docks ... they do get stored in your warehouses until the coast is clear to put them on the market ... and they do reach that market on your ships."
The two men stared at one another for a moment before Howard looked to his men and gestured them out of the room with a nod of his head. When the door closed behind them, only John, Howard, and Howard's body guard remained. After a moment, the nobleman asked, "Presuming any of what you say is true ... what do you want from me? Why are you here? You got this audience with the mention of..."
After Howard glanced to his right hand man, the latter reminded, "A prize of indescribable value."
At the Black Gull Inn, John lifted a bottle of rum to his mouth for the umpteenth time, drank deeply, then slammed the thick bottle back down to the wooden table. Across from him, Dirk asked yet again, "What did he say? Is he going to give us a boat?"
"No," John finally answered. Then, as he snatched the wrist of a passing whore and pulled her into his lap for some upcoming fun, he smiled to his new soon-to-be Quartermaster, "No. He isn't going to give us a boat ... yet."
"Yet...? What does yet mean?"
"It means...!" John said between wet, opened mouthed kisses and hard gropes of the woman's bared breasts, "Not yet! Not yet ... until ... I have something he wants, too."
"Black Sails: New Beginnings"
John St. George rose from the throne-like chair in his Quarters as his Quartermaster entered. The crew of the Stormy Dawn had spent more than three hours discussing his future as Captain of the pirate ship. The expression on his right hand man's face was the first indication that the vote hadn't gone his way. The four men following in behind him, flanking him with their daggers, swords, and pistols at the ready, were his second clue.
"So, are they sending me overboard to shore?" he asked, the sound of his own sword dangling at his side reminding the four men that he was still armed. He continued his inquiry as he rested his hands casually on the butts of the already cocked flint locks in his belt, "Or just overboard?"
"You know the Articles, Captain," Louis said. One of the men behind him cleared his throat conspicuously, to remind the Quartermaster that Captain Blood was Captain no more. Louis took notice of the correction with a half glance back and the continuation, "You will not be harmed so long as you go willingly. You'll be rowed to shore, with the standard severance stipend and your personal possessions, as well as your share of the last prize."
John was disappointed to learn that he'd been driven out as Captain, of course. But he was happy to hear that he would at least continue to breath once he'd left this room. He chatted with his Quartermaster a bit, then -- under guard -- spent just a few short minutes collecting his worthwhile possessions. They fit easily in a wood and iron chest and a canvas bag, not uncommon for a seaman, a pirate, or even a pirate Captain.
Six men loyal to John had chosen to leave the Stormy Dawn with him. As the launch transported the seven away, John looked up at those who would have no more to do with him, some jeering, some simply wondering whether they'd voted correctly. John knew they hadn't, of course. His argument to the men before they casted their votes had been taken as unconvincing. His promise to them before they cast him aside had been laughingly dismissed. If only he'd been able to give them more details, reassuring facts that the great treasure for which he'd spent the past three years searching and researching was in fact there to be had. But despite their oaths of loyalty to their now deposed Captain, John had known that to give such details would lead to treachery. Some greedy soul would inevitably take it upon himself to try to find that treasure on his own. And knowing his own recent luck, John knew that the likelihood of that person being successful was probably higher than his own odds of that same success.
Three days later:
John unbuckled his scabbard and, snatching the dagger that had been held against his torso by the belt before it fell, waited for the two cutlass armed men to meet him a dozen yards from the home's entrance. As the men disarmed him, he explained with unexpected politeness, "I'd like a word with Lord Howard, please."
"Fuck off, pirate," a third man growled as he neared. "Be lucky I don't have you cut down here and now."
"If you do," John continued, showing no concern, "your Master will be passing on a prize of indescribable value."
After another couple of minutes of back and forth profanity laced conversation with the noble man's body guard, John found himself sitting in a drawing room, flanked by the two men from the entry and two additional men who'd been called up from elsewhere. He stood at Lord Howard's entry, causing the armed men to tense. After given them a quick glance, he gave the noble man a very slight bow of respect, then said, "I mean on one harm, m'lord. I am only here to talk. I have a proposition ... business proposal ... in which I think you would be interested."
"Business with a pirate?" Howard asked, laughing with a conspicuously derisive tone. "Who exactly do you think I am?"
"I think you are Lord Alfred Howard, Earl and Governor of New Providence Island," John began with a confident tone, "But more importantly to men such as myself ... pirates as you like to call us ... you are the man who buys our ill gotten gain ... repackages it as legitimate goods ... and sells it in the American Colonies using your good name ... thereby lining the pockets of the entirety of the population of New Providence in a way that keeps everyone happy."
By the time John had finished, Howard was seated near a roaring fire with a wide smile upon his face. "I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else, my good man. I run a legitimate business ... legitimate trade between the island's legitimate businessmen ... legitimate land owners ... and their counterparts in the Colonies."
"You have twelve ships, m'lord," John continued, ignoring the man's declaration. "They move between Nassau, Boston, Charleston, and other ports, carrying the legitimate goods of New Providence's farmers and businessmen ... side by side with the goods me, my men, and my fellow pirates procure from those legitimate businessmen with whom you do not have protection agreements against piracy. You, yourself, m'lord, may never hold those pillaged goods in your hands ... but their are sold to your Agents at the docks ... they do get stored in your warehouses until the coast is clear to put them on the market ... and they do reach that market on your ships."
The two men stared at one another for a moment before Howard looked to his men and gestured them out of the room with a nod of his head. When the door closed behind them, only John, Howard, and Howard's body guard remained. After a moment, the nobleman asked, "Presuming any of what you say is true ... what do you want from me? Why are you here? You got this audience with the mention of..."
After Howard glanced to his right hand man, the latter reminded, "A prize of indescribable value."
At the Black Gull Inn, John lifted a bottle of rum to his mouth for the umpteenth time, drank deeply, then slammed the thick bottle back down to the wooden table. Across from him, Dirk asked yet again, "What did he say? Is he going to give us a boat?"
"No," John finally answered. Then, as he snatched the wrist of a passing whore and pulled her into his lap for some upcoming fun, he smiled to his new soon-to-be Quartermaster, "No. He isn't going to give us a boat ... yet."
"Yet...? What does yet mean?"
"It means...!" John said between wet, opened mouthed kisses and hard gropes of the woman's bared breasts, "Not yet! Not yet ... until ... I have something he wants, too."