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| You Only Live Twice; 21 June 1751 (Mutiny - 7) | |
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| Topic Started: 4 Mar 2008, 06:07 AM (210 Views) | |
| Dylan Ward | 4 Mar 2008, 06:07 AM Post #1 |
Landlubber
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There was a stirring here; he could feel it. He didn’t possess any kind of powers or supernatural abilities and, aside from the small golden cross around his neck, he had no use for any of such things. While he could acknowledge the existence of something more then man, he didn’t wrap his entire life around it, and he didn’t let it rule his life. The wickedness of man had taken its hold on him before, and that was more then enough for the agent of His Majesty. No, there was nothing unnatural about what he felt. He had simply experienced it before, and he knew that something would have to happen. It was tension, boiling just below the surface. As his worn boots passed marines he could see it in their eyes. He didn’t know what, exactly, but there was a wary weariness that was unmistakable. He had seen it in India, that resentment. In fact, he couldn’t deny he felt a little of it himself when it came to Company rule. He couldn’t help disliking it, really, and he doubted that the Company, if they ever knew of his existence, would be at all fond of him either. It was acting more like a nation, more like a power, then a simple trading venture. His loyalty was to the King, and anything that sought to make itself more then that was a danger. In Dylan Ward’s mind, the East India Trading Company was doing just that. He had dealt with some of their regional bosses in India, using a few poisons to help emulate a snake bite. He had also exposed and obliterated opium traders, on the very covert payroll of the Company, sending them to China, where they were publicly executed. The Company, of course, denied any involvement with that particular endeavor. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before the greed of men overcame sensibility and morality. Even he couldn’t steam like tide for very long, but he could do what was needed. Which was why he found himself in this place. He didn’t mind the heat; he had been too many places to be accustomed to a climate anymore. He wasn’t entirely fond of the ocean, but he did have to admit it had its soothing moments. Dylan didn’t get many looks as he made his way through town. Aside from the duffle over his shoulder, he was dressed as any normal townsperson seemed to be: brown breeches with leather boots and a light, long-sleeved, white shirt. There was a small sword hanging at his hip, simply made without any elaboration, much like the dagger sheathed on his opposite side. The shirt hid, mostly, the only such weapon at his back. He preferred the daggers; they tended to make things simpler. While he could use a sword well, it was mainly, in this instance, for show. The wind ruffled the thin fabric of his shirt as he walked through the streets, noticing the change from the docks to the town proper. He was trained to notice things. Things about people, about buildings, and about anything else. That was his job: to assess and deduce, then act on that deduction. The people here seemed to mull about their daily lives without too much overt concern, but he could tell there was something there. He was here to ensure that the King’s rule was carried, and much of that extended to the protection of the Sovereign’s subjects. There was a bit of good in that thought, knowing that not only was he working towards the greater good, but also towards the more immediate benefit of these people. Dylan looked up at the sky briefly before pausing in the street, looking around him as he went over the instructions and directions he had committed to memory. |
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| James Gray | 9 Apr 2008, 04:54 AM Post #2 |
Warrant Officer
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Jemmy ran out of things to do pretty fast if he was on liberty and none of his friends were. He didn’t go drinking on his own and brothels didn’t have any good points for him, so what could he really do with himself all the time? The answer was eat, they didn’t starve men at the fort but he was a pretty thin kind of person and an extra meal was a good thing. So he was hopping down to a bakery to find something to shut up his grumbling belly and then after that he would see. He might get a new “go to town” waistcoat since the last person who borrowed his returned it with a huge stain of red wine down the front that Jemmy couldn’t get out at all. Right now he was wearing his off duty uniform because of that, with the goofy red and white cap. He really hated the cap. That kind of practical stuff was what he was thinking about. Because everything else that was going on really wasn’t worth thinking about since it was just a really bad mess anyway and it was better to think about the things that you could make go right for a change. Of course Jemmy felt the heavy gloom of tension and discontent that was over the whole town like a black cloud. The garrison was the place where it was worst and it wouldn’t be wrong to say that Jemmy’s squad was right in the eye of the storm. But he was trying to stay out from underneath it. Sometimes it caught up with him anyway, there were too many bad memories that came back with the Company soldiers that were all over the town. But he didn’t let it constantly eat at his mind. Maybe that was why he saw a little bit more than the others in the streets did, which was why he saw the man in front of him that everyone else was ignoring. He was an unimportant man, he was just dressed like a regular tradesman but he was obviously new. Two things told Jemmy that, one was that he had a duffle bag over his shoulder and the other was the way he was looking around him. That worked in two ways to betray him too. He didn’t have the apathy that most people in Port Royal had now and he was turning his head to look at his surroundings. There was a difference between looking around you and looking like you were looking for something around you and it was the second one that the man was doing. He was fresh off the boat, he didn’t look exactly lost but he didn’t look totally sure about where he was either. Actually he looked like the kind of man who knew where he was going, he just didn’t know where he was right now. Jemmy really couldn’t say why he was interested in the man, maybe it was just because he was something different than what he saw every day. He looked like he was good natured and not defensive like most people turned when they came to a new place. Jemmy turned his walk aside a little bit and ended up standing in front of the man. “Hello you,” he said cheerily “you’re new in town aren’t you? Have you found what you’re looking for?” |
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| Dylan Ward | 10 Apr 2008, 04:35 AM Post #3 |
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Landlubber
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Dylan hadn’t taken more then a few steps away from the dock when he felt the eyes of someone on him. Years of training had taught him very well, and he knew that brash action was a good way to give away his true nature. Besides, he reasoned, there were probably more then a few curious things about him. After all, he was searching the streets, memorizing the surroundings for the inevitability that was to return to this part of town. Port Royal wasn’t exceptionally large, although a good size for a Caribbean town. But he had spent years in London, both under the haze that had consumed his life as well as the reborn man he had become later. He ‘felt’ someone move towards him, both with the auditory stimuli of boots on the cobble stone and the movement in his peripheral. He doubted anyone would have ‘made’ him, and he certainly hadn’t failed in any of his missions, which would be the only way to warrant an assassination attempt. All in all, he wasn’t expecting trouble. Nevertheless, his hand moved down to his pocket, which held relatively nothing but a bit of currency. However the movement, as innocent and nonchalant as it was, put his hand near one of his daggers. While he didn’t believe anything would be happen, he had not survived as long as he had without being suitably cautious. As it was, the former assumption was the correct one, and he was greeted one of the townsfolk. A man, at first glance…but there was something else there. Dylan’s position required him to see through the masks everyone wore, and to cut through the disguises to find the true person underneath. There was something a little…false about the man in front of him, which put the King’s agent on edge, although his face didn’t show it. His concern faded greatly when the man spoke, and Dylan returned the man’s words with a friendly smile. There was no hint of malice or directed deception, and Dylan quickly concluded that the man’s secrets, whatever they might be, were not of his concern. There was no need, in Dylan’s mind, to deprive someone of kindness when they wished no harm. His teachings at the Church had taught him as much. ”Well, I can’t say I’ve had much luck in finding much of anything. Although, I assumed I’d stumble on it soonar or latar.” The was a lingering hint of Welsh accent in his words, one he could make vanish when necessary, but that did not seem to be today. The smile turned into a welcoming grin and Dylan shifted the duffle over his shoulder, removing his hand from his pocket and extending it to the man in front of him, ”I’m Dylan Ward. Pleasare to meet you. You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to the carpentar shop around here, would you? I believe it’s two blocks to north, but God help me, months on a ship haven’t done wondars for my sense of direction.” |
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| James Gray | 10 Apr 2008, 02:04 PM Post #4 |
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Warrant Officer
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Jemmy noticed while he came up to the man that he stopped really watching around him and he was looking at Jemmy hard. There wasn’t anything in his face to show a suspicion or worry but his eyes were really focused, Jemmy could tell that he was sizing him up. If he was just suspicious of anyone who approached him maybe he was more defensive than Jemmy thought when he saw him at first. He had put his hand over his pocket, maybe to protect his wallet. But his face grew a smile when Jemmy spoke to him and if there was really ever tension in the man it was relaxing away. He answered “Well, I can’t say I’ve had much luck in finding much of anything. Although, I assumed I’d stumble on it soonar or latar.” And then he grinned back at Jemmy and he pulled his hand back out of his pocket, he swung it up towards Jemmy and Jemmy brought his hand around to meet with his. He clasped it firmly and shook it up and down once. “I’m Dylan Ward. Pleasare to meet you. You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to the carpentar shop around here, would you? I believe it’s two blocks to north, but God help me, months on a ship haven’t done wondars for my sense of direction.” Wandering around assuming you would stumble on anything in Port Royal was a bad idea, because if you were going to stumble on anything it was probably going to be a pile of filth or trash in the street. The town streets were very higgeldy piggeldy which meant it was hard to follow a straight line. Nothing was marked very well either. Jemmy grinned. “Likewise. I’m James Gray. You are lucky I came along. Because if you went on the way you were going you would be walking for a long time without finding your carpenter. You are right that it is two blocks north of the docks but” Jemmy licked one finger and held it up to feel the wind, he knew what direction it blew at this time of day “you are facing northeast right now.” “Now Mr. Ward” he went on, “you are looking for Mr. Finnigan. Finnigan’s is two blocks to north and north is that way up that street there.” He pointed to the direction he meant. |
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