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| The Wrong Tavern; open to all! | |
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| Topic Started: 6 Mar 2010, 07:51 PM (820 Views) | |
| sheshells | 6 Mar 2010, 07:51 PM Post #1 |
Able Seaman
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Molly deftly wound her way between the tables, holding her heavy tray of ale tankards and bottles of rum high above her shoulders. One or two of the clientele chose to take the opportunity to give her a squeeze as she passed, but most knew better than to risk upsetting her tray. She did not take kindly to spills, and even if her hands were full, there were still her feet. She was like a circus acrobat, and she had no problem balancing on one foot and strategically kicking a seated man without spilling a drop on her tray. |
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| Andrea Costa | 6 Mar 2010, 08:52 PM Post #2 |
Pirate
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Andrea was tired, hungry and thirsty… especially thirsty, as if all the salt in this sea chose to stick on him, so he entered “The Parting Glass” with the hope to get refreshed. The tavern was too crowded for his expectations, no available table, so he looked around to see whom he could ask politely for a place nearby. Actually “The Parting Glass” was a tavern he used to frequent since he became a pirate, together with his Irish mates. It was just the right place to drink away his sorrow now… or perhaps to forget it in songs and dances. He liked how the Irish knew to party - a trait he shared with them and which had determined his popularity – and, moreover… for the one who had hunted before British ships together with the French corsairs, the Irish were friends, not enemies. “Maybe too close friends!” he sighed a little, as his latest heartbreak was recent. Yes, the beautiful Irish lass for whom he had turned pirate had left him and the “Black Pearl” crew, to be in the arms of another ship’s first mate… It still hurt, even if not as much as his first heartbreak, almost two years before… but the difference was normal: with his emerald fairy he had spent only a few months, while with Mireille, five years… Now, that he had completed his mission in this port, he was ready to party and to forget – damn all the flighty women of this world! And this was just the right place now, as he was dressed like an ordinary sailor in permission ashore, with an off-white shirt, a blue neckerchief, spotless white trousers and a smart grey short jacket. His precious sidesword, which had given his nickname, was in its sheat, and he had also, in case of need, the flying dagger hidden as always in his boot. Since arriving to the Caribbeans, the young pirate had learnt to see the world with different eyes. Actually, besides British, Genovese and Turks, he didn’t make any difference of nationality - he could fight anyone or party with anyone, depending on the stake and mood. He approached the bar, smiling to the young barmaid whose path he had crossed, and asked politely, in the best English language he could - which meant, anyway, something better than what he was able to pronounce before joining the “Black Pearl”: “A mug of beer, please! Do you serve meals here too?” |
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| Terence Whyte | 6 Mar 2010, 09:13 PM Post #3 |
Warrant Officer
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He had thought the next turn would bring him down the right road and street, and take him right back to the sea. Somehow though the houses were too tall to see the vastness of the water, and no street seemed to choose to turn in just the direction to reveal where he ought to have gone. Sure there were two he had turned to. They were full of promise. One veered downwards even and there he could see the sparkle of blue. But as he came down it, it veered left, it veered right, it veered again, then forked out and then joined and before he knew it, he had forgotten where the sea was, and worse. He frowned. It was rather hot, even if the sun no longer shone brightly from above, and the clouds didn't stand there just out of reach to aid a weary traveler by easing the strength of those rays. He wiped his hand over his forehead and wondered if he was just as thirsty because he had walked for the rather uncomfortable length of time. He'd strayed further from those main streets, where the folk, of more respectable reputation would've been found. Not that anyone was pure and innocent here. There were just men, and women who were less corrupt, and those who were as rotten as the fruit on which he had nearly slipped on. He shook his leg and wiped his boot against the pebbled floors. Quite a few of the square stones were missing, revealing beneath a flattened, thumped in ground of dirt and filth. ".. Curse these streets, curse them." He muttered. Hungry, thirsty and lost and a redcoat all on his own. The next street offered promise. It sounded livelier again, with more hustle and bustle than all that he had managed to scamper through. It wasn't that much cleaner really. 'The Parting glass' was written in bold letters, not that the lad could read. But he recognised a sign for a tavern wherever he'd have gone and this was certainly one. A selection of drunks were scattered at the doors, laughter and talk was heard through the thin walls, and there were a few of the windows there, of which at least one was broken, and all were dirty. He placed a hand to his coat. He had his money there. He took enough to last him a little, and hid the rest well on the ship. He trusted the Oxley, not to take it, but not others. Pushing past the door boldly, he made himself seem more confident than he was. A lovely tavern, but full of men of questionable intentions, dark faces, ugly, ragged, dirty. Well, it wasn't half bad really. Nothing very uncommon either. He tucked his hat under his arm. Perhaps the men observed him because he wore the marine's red coat, or perhaps it was just so much brighter than all those, of the marines that were here relatively longer, and so caught more attention with its newness. Very full, the tavern. But there was a table with a drunk leaning against it, asleep. His face brightened and he made to advance in the direction. Unceremoniously he pushed the man of the table. There, he had a place to sit. He nudged him with his foot, so that he rolled a bit further away, and continued to snore. The lad pulled his seat up and sat down. He peered at the mug that the drunk had had and saw it near empty. Ah well, he could always order something for himself, and pay for it. Or, he smiled and weighed the small 'purse', a tiny bag of money, he could borrow that. |
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| Sally Fisher | 6 Mar 2010, 10:11 PM Post #4 |
Mate
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[oops, this is Molly, not Sally Fisher.] Molly regarded the redcoated newcomer with a raised eyebrow, but shrugged to herself. As long as he was willing to pay, she'd serve anybody. She watched with detached boredom as he shoved a sleeping drunk out of his seat. But there was a more pressing matter to attend to now, a hungry customer. “A mug of beer, please! Do you serve meals here too?” She set a mug down in front of the man. "We got pies..." she began. A sluggish bearded fellow nearby raised his head. "What kinda pies you got?" She drew a breath. "We got mutton pie. Pork pie. Shepherd's pie. Cottage pie. Fish pie. Tatty pie. Neeps 'n tatty pie. Oxtail pie. Cock-a-leeky pie. Leek-a-tatty pie. Neeps-a-cocky pie. Leek-a-neepy pie - or no that's all gone. Cheese-a-mutton pie. Cock-a-tatty pie. Pork-a-leeky pie. Cheesy leeky pie. Cheese 'n tatty pie. Onion ale pie. Neeps 'n ale pie. Sausage pie. Onion sausage pie. Egg 'n sausage pie. Egg-a-tatty pie. Ox 'n tatty pie. Ox 'n ale pie." She could not remember the other choices, but that was enough for now. In her experience, most customers had difficulty deciding and could not tell the difference anyway, or else they would forget what they had ordered by the time it actually came. Edited by Sally Fisher, 6 Mar 2010, 10:12 PM.
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| Terence Whyte | 6 Mar 2010, 10:37 PM Post #5 |
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Warrant Officer
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He saw that he was noticed by a serving girl, which though had not gone to him directly. She seemed preoccupied with another man, perhaps a newcomer, older certainly, and already asking for drink. He spoke funny, not like the gentry, much like the lot that he saw taking on the lives of the middle or rather the lower ranks of life. "We got pies..." He perked up. Pies! Food, and hopefully drink. He looked over in the direction of the lass, and of the man and the other, less coherent one that asked about the food. "We got mutton pie. Pork pie. Shepherd's pie. Cottage pie. Fish pie. Tatty pie. Neeps 'n tatty pie. Oxtail pie. Cock-a-leeky pie. Leek-a-tatty pie. Neeps-a-cocky pie. Leek-a-neepy pie - or no that's all gone. Cheese-a-mutton pie. Cock-a-tatty pie. Pork-a-leeky pie. Cheesy leeky pie. Cheese 'n tatty pie. Onion ale pie. Neeps 'n ale pie. Sausage pie. Onion sausage pie. Egg 'n sausage pie. Egg-a-tatty pie. Ox 'n tatty pie. Ox 'n ale pie." S Ox 'n ale pie, somehow reminded him of Oxley... or so he would have shortened the name. He grinned to himself. Could call the lad Oxlepie later when he found him. If he found his way back to the port and to his ship. If not, at least he would not have gone down hungry. "Miss, when you're done." He called over the loud murmurs of men. "'d like a.....Ox'n'...tatty..." Or maybe he'd have preferred the Egg 'n sausage? He mulled over the ones and fund he already forgot almost that she'd mentioned. "Or.. no.. Egg 'n sausage pie, ma'msy. And something to drink, a mug of.. something good." Not like the sort of beer or what was it, that he had the last time. Which still made his tongue curl up in distaste. |
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| sheshells | 6 Mar 2010, 10:54 PM Post #6 |
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Able Seaman
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She gave the young marine a skeptical look once again. "Something good? It's all good, lovey. You want rum? We got Barbados rum, Jamaica rum, browny rum, cane rum, molasses rum, sugar rum, sugar beet rum, sugar beetle rum, Bermuda rum, Tortuga rum, Testudo rum, Rhum rum, Ramshead rum, Rammer rum, golden rum, amber rum, darky rum, syrup rum, treacle rum, nutmeg rum, bumbo rum, lemon rum, limey rum, pineapple rum, sacka rum, Romany rum, ramboozle, rumfustian, rum fustic, rumbullion, rumbustion, rumbunctious, old rum, young rum, taffy rum and tafia." |
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| Terence Whyte | 6 Mar 2010, 11:01 PM Post #7 |
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Warrant Officer
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"Um." The young marine was speechless. A simple, 'want rum' or 'want beer' or 'want something' turned into a long list of names, which he thought he could follow at first, but when the girl had gone half way, he could not even imagine what sort of rum tasted like what, if there was even the sort of rum by the name of beetle rum, and whether the woman was just making those names up, to sell the very same rum or not. "Uh...." He looked at his newly found fortune in the little sack. "....I'll.. let you pick mam'sy...'s long it ain't poison." He had said that Oxley could never get him drunk, but one mug of drink, wouldn't either. He was thirsty, and he was going to eat along with it, so all was well and he was not on the way to end up like that drunk, groaning on the floor beside him. |
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| sheshells | 6 Mar 2010, 11:22 PM Post #8 |
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Able Seaman
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She gave him another shrug and poured him a cup of something nameless, clapping it down (without a spill) on the table just out of his reach. "That's half a groat." |
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| Terence Whyte | 6 Mar 2010, 11:31 PM Post #9 |
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Warrant Officer
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"That, miss, is expensive." The marine lad protested, for if he knew anything, it was how many of the shiny coins he would have to give away, to get something. Whether it was drink, food, or even clothing, or the quickest way to complete cleaning his kit. He truly loathed that part of being a marine. "..I'll pay the price the others had.. but no higher." He did not add, 'because of being a marine' though he thought that the price had been placed so high just for that. He reached for the mug though , to secure his possession of it before she might think to remove it from his table again. |
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| sheshells | 6 Mar 2010, 11:44 PM Post #10 |
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Able Seaman
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She took the cup in her hand again. "That's the price, take it or leave it. I got customers waitin'. Be with you in a sec!" she called to the other man who presumably had yet to make up his mind about supper. His bearded neighbor had fallen asleep, lulled by the long list of pies.
Edited by sheshells, 7 Mar 2010, 06:00 AM.
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| Andrea Costa | 7 Mar 2010, 08:41 AM Post #11 |
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Pirate
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The barmaid was pretty, with a smile on her face, and with honey – coloured tresses. She gave him immediately the beer, then she answered about the meal of the day: "We got pies..." she began. A sluggish bearded fellow nearby raised his head. "What kinda pies you got?" She started reciting them on a strange tone: "We got mutton pie. Pork pie. Shepherd's pie. Cottage pie. Fish pie. Tatty pie. Neeps 'n tatty pie. Oxtail pie. Cock-a-leeky pie. Leek-a-tatty pie. Neeps-a-cocky pie. Leek-a-neepy pie - or no that's all gone. Cheese-a-mutton pie. Cock-a-tatty pie. Pork-a-leeky pie. Cheesy leeky pie. Cheese 'n tatty pie. Onion ale pie. Neeps 'n ale pie. Sausage pie. Onion sausage pie. Egg 'n sausage pie. Egg-a-tatty pie. Ox 'n tatty pie. Ox 'n ale pie." For the beginning he could follow her, then her pronunciation, which made him wonder what corner of old Great Britain she was coming from, tired him too much. It really sounded like no vowel was in its right place, and even his beloved Irish fairy’s brogue seemed more understandable! “A pork pie, please!” he asked, as it was something he was at least familiar with. But the barmaid had got already busy with another, a fellow in the damn red coat of those British pigs who had sunk “Marie Gallante” with all her crew… He frowned, and his hand grabbed the mug almost as wanting to break it in his grip. However, starting a fight in a port where other marines were around wouldn’t have been a wise choice for a pirate on the spy, and he knew it. Getting acquainted with the English prison, with the branding iron or with the hangman’s noose weren’t among his choices for the future, as sad or revolted on his fate as he was lately! “Be with you in a sec!" the girl shouted at him. “You’d better come with that pork pie, otherwise I might eat you instead!” he laughed, the perspective of him turning into the big bad wolf and her into the Red Riding Hood seeming rather appealing. |
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| Terence Whyte | 7 Mar 2010, 10:42 AM Post #12 |
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Warrant Officer
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"That's the price, take it or leave it. I got customers waitin'. Be with you in a sec!" The girl said and the young marine scowled. It was a price too high, but he was also thirsty. Looking for another tavern would only get him more lost, and no less thirsty. "Fine.." He said, sulkily, even if he meant to pay with the money he had 'borrowed' from the drunken man. "...But I tell you, it's too much." he held his hand out to the mug, to suggest that he meant to take it , accept it anyway. His other hand was on the little bag of money, where the soft jingle of coin suggested, he did have enough of the money to be true on his word. “You’d better come with that pork pie, otherwise I might eat you instead!” Whyte lifted his gaze and looked at the man. Even if he was much shorter than him, he straightened himself up, proudly, boldly. Funny thing he said, but the lad showed just how amusing he found it, with a shake of his head and a bored look. Having been rather thirsty, his mood had anything but soared, and having yet to find his way back, just made it so much more annoyed. |
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| sheshells | 7 Mar 2010, 08:13 PM Post #13 |
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Able Seaman
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“A pork pie, please!” the young man said. Please? Well hoity-toity, wasn't he a gallant one! Didn't get many pleases in here. Molly gave him a saucy smile. Nothing pleased her so much as being treated like a lady, even though she was far from being one. "Right you are, sir. Soon as young reddy here pays up." The young marine grudgingly handed over the money. "Fine...But I tell you, it's too much." Molly snatched the pennies from his table. "Then open yer own tavern, lovey. Get a lotta custom with your cheap rum." She turned around and flashed a smile at her gallant customer who was teasing now. “You’d better come with that pork pie, otherwise I might eat you instead!” "Hafta clear that with the landlord, laddie, else you might end up as his next serving girl." |
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| Andrea Costa | 7 Mar 2010, 09:36 PM Post #14 |
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Pirate
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The lass smiled him widely and answered quickly, while Andrea was sipping his beer: "Right you are, sir. Soon as young reddy here pays up." The “young reddy” seemed to be the one at whose sight he was ready to crush the beer mug in his grip. Speaking about money, this reminded him to ask her about the price too: “And how much I owe you for the beer and the pie?” The marine paid, complaining loudly that it was too much. It could be, if he was accustomed only to the prices in his far away foggy realms, but here transport expenses were also added often to most goods, so it was natural for the prices to be a little higher. He hated that guy more and more. Well, neither the tavern girl was one to like him, judging upon the sharp words she addressed him, before turning to Andrea and flashing another bright smile to the young pirate. When he reminded her teasingly that he was still hungry, she chuckled and answered daringly: "Hafta clear that with the landlord, laddie, else you might end up as his next serving girl." Besides her pleasant countenance, she was quick-witted too! Andrea also grinned, telling her on a doubting voice: “I don’t think I’d have your grace and skills to avoid throwing something hot in a customer’s head! Or to spill some beer on a freshly washed uniform!” He said the last phrase rather loudly, after having seen the marine watching him boldly, then making a bored face. Then he focused his attention again on the girl, explaining patiently: “My hands are better with the helm and the rigging than with trays of food and glasses full of all the beverages you had just named, so this is definitely not a possibility! One wouldn’t keep a sailor as a tavern worker! But I guess you are the reason why many people come here and don’t choose the other tavern around the corner! What’s your name?” |
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| Terence Whyte | 7 Mar 2010, 09:52 PM Post #15 |
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Warrant Officer
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"Then open yer own tavern, lovey. Get a lotta custom with your cheap rum." Tch, they couldn't have anything come to port, if it weren't for the navy ships, and for the service and the men in it. They protected the transport ships from the cursed pirates and thieves. They made certain that the port was safe too, or ports. If anything, those men in red or blue, or just with the look of a Tar, should have the drink cheaper for them. They were doing these dishonest folk a favour! He kept his thoughts to himself again, but he was sure thinking that the girl had done him an injustice. Parting ways with his coin was harder, than having it earned with ways not permitted, gambling and cards. "I'm in the service miss. " He though said after considering it more thoroughly. "Means, I do you a service too, doing my duty. Could have nothing here.. if we didn't do it right." Well, perhaps, his earlier wisdom to keep his mouth shut, was not quite there now. He gave his mug a hefty sip before he lay it back on the table. Beneath it the drunken man groaned, rolled to his side and continued to sleep. He tucked his arm under his head to make the hard floors a bit more comfortable, and the vile scent of dirt and probably traces of vomit, further from his nose. Whyte looked at the man, whom he had not known to be pirate, else he would certainly have gone and had him arrested. “I don’t think I’d have your grace and skills to avoid throwing something hot in a customer’s head! Or to spill some beer on a freshly washed uniform!” The man said. He pretended not to have heard. gave his mug another good hefty gulp, and then held it comfortably in hand. It would've been a waste of it, should he have chugged it at the man. Though he was sorely tempted to. " Would hold my tongue 'bout something like that, if I were you. If it happens, you might just be accused of doing it...,and you wouldn't like what would happen then..." He was a young one, to give such a threat, a rather bold lad, overconfident perhaps. What he'd heard also made him grin. A man who knew to do with ships. An excellent sort to press into service. Especially if he were a skilled sailor. And make his life miserable then, for under St. Montgomery, it would be worse than hell. |
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| DeathBlow | 8 Mar 2010, 03:57 AM Post #16 |
Zombie
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Damian Kelly opened his eyes. He had the distinct impression of being flattened against a wall with people walking up and down around him like two legged spiders. It was only after several minutes of observing this curious phenomenon that he came to the realization that he was, in fact, lying on the floor and that the people around him were the ordinary patrons of the tavern, not spider-people, as he had previously supposed. Disappointed, Damian propped himself up on an elbow. He was in no hurry to get to his feet, not with the room pitching and swaying as it was. Damn shoddy carpentry. He shook his head reproachfully. No way this building was up to code. Something bright and colourful caught his attention and, when his eyes focused, he saw it to be a lad, some years younger than himself, sitting at the table above him (or would it be in front of him?). Damian squinted at the lad’s coat. It was very bright. “Anoder beer, Molly me luv!” he cried, slumping back to the floor. It was surprisingly comfortable there. After a few moments fumbling for his purse, he rolled to his knees. “I been robbed!” he exclaimed, more surprised than upset, crawling into a chair beside the shiny, red coated lad, “While I was lyin’ dere, c’you b’lieve it? Hey,” he leaned in close, putting a hand on the lad’s shoulder, “Hey, you didn’t happen to see the bugger?” |
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| Terence Whyte | 8 Mar 2010, 07:36 AM Post #17 |
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Warrant Officer
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“Anoder beer, Molly me luv!” This made the young marine jump somewhat. He hadn't expected the drunken man to actually wake, during the time of his stay. Now that the floor has spoken, or rather the man on it had, he nonchalantly slipped his 'borrowed' sack inside of his coat. His motion was no different than if he was putting away his own money. As it was safe he took another gulp of rum, and turned around to look at the newly awaken man. He was still quite comfortable lying on the floor and maybe he was going to doze back to sleep. Here's to hoping for that. “I been robbed!” The man had wanted to order his drink and pay for it, but then he realised that there was no money and he was getting up onto the other chair, by the same table now owned and occupied by the redcoat. The marine boy shifted a bit, but payed him less heed yet. “While I was lyin’ dere, c’you b’lieve it? Hey,” Oh he could. It was a tavern. Men were robbed, standing, lying, crouching and resting in a lasses bed here. Or in general vicinity of taverns anyhow. But he made himself look as if he was pitying the poor soul who could not buy himself a drink. And then it was Damian who laid his hand on his shoulder, and leaned so uncomfortably close that he could smell his foul breath. Whyte squinted his eyes, trying not to look as positively revolted as he felt. “Hey, you didn’t happen to see the bugger?” "See whom?" He asked and leaned back a bit. He took a hold at the hand which he brushed away from his coat. Grubby, dirty hands weren't something he wanted close to him. And he didn't trust even the half drunk man to attempt something. "The robber? Ain't seen noone when I came.. though that one.." He pointed at the man who had annoyed him earlier. "He looks rather suspicious, if you ask me." He shrugged. |
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| sheshells | 8 Mar 2010, 05:51 PM Post #18 |
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Able Seaman
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Molly handed her handsome customer a pie with a wink and gave him his total, doing some creative mathematics in her head. But she did not wait for the money, noticing the commotion happening nearby. "Don't you worry, Amos," she said, approaching the drunk on the floor and handing him a frothy mug. "Reddy here offered to pay for yer drink, kind soul that he is. Di'nt ya, Red." And she held out her hand to the young marine. Edited by sheshells, 8 Mar 2010, 05:53 PM.
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| James Bell | 8 Mar 2010, 06:00 PM Post #19 |
When all else fails, beat people up
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"I din't 'ear 'im say nothin' like," Bell growled, appearing at Whyte's table on impossibly silent feet. " 'E ain't payin' fer nothin' that 'e ain't ordered." |
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| Andrea Costa | 8 Mar 2010, 06:50 PM Post #20 |
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Pirate
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The girl gave him the pie, with a promising wink, and he thanked her politely. When she told him the price, Andrea was looking for the coins, having them prepared – unlike that marine lad who was complaining loudly: "I'm in the service miss. Means, I do you a service too, doing my duty. Could have nothing here... if we didn't do it right." Andrea cringed hearing his subtle menace that there could have been no tavern if they weren’t around… as if pirates would be such a scary bunch of men ashore, as if they wouldn’t want a hot meal, a good drink and a pretty lass for company... exactly like any other sailors. And the flourishing of Tortuga was clearly in witness of his opinion! Besides, he knew better what it meant “doing it right” – he couldn’t forget the encounter of “Marie Gallante” with that damn second class British navy vessel, about six months ago. Other people around seemed to frown at this lad’s cocky words too. At least Andrea wasn’t the only one to be displeased with him! Especially that the “young reddie”, how the barmaid had called him, was ready to comment on his words before, about clumsily spilling beer on an uniform if he were a serving girl. For God’s sake, it was meant more as a compliment for the barmaid’s graceful moves than anything else, but if the marine felt insulted… well, the better! "Would hold my tongue 'bout something like that, if I were you. If it happens, you might just be accused of doing it...,and you wouldn't like what would happen then..." He knew he wouldn’t like a brawl which risked his freedom… but, at the same time, a man can take only a limited number of affronts until he blows his top – and for Andrea it meant taking out his sidesword and fighting. For the Sword Angel, fists were nothing, and he was of no use in a fight without his blades – the flying daggers being as deadly. So he feigned not having heard it, especially that one of the drunkards who had tenderly embraced the floor lately seemed to wake up and want some more: “Anoder beer, Molly me luv!” So she was called Molly? A nice name for a pretty lass. Meanwhile, the drunkard was complaining loudly that he had been robbed and he asked the young marine if he had seen the robber. The boy’s immediate answer made him nauseous: "See whom? The robber? Ain't seen noone when I came.. though that one.." He pointed at Andrea. "He looks rather suspicious, if you ask me." he shrugged. The boy’s nerve simply muted him. A fight seemed unavoidable… “Fortunately I didn’t walk in that direction, everybody had seen me stopping at the bar!” he thought, still not sure if it was enough. And the sight of another marine, a little older, joining the first one wasn’t pleasing at all. "This place becomes too crowded for a respectable pirate!" Andrea thought. |
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| Terence Whyte | 8 Mar 2010, 08:10 PM Post #21 |
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Warrant Officer
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"What he said." It was these times that having a bully as a fellow marine proved to be by far the best thing. He grinned and looked at Bell. Another benefit of having the marine here was actually being able to find his way to the ship. He had to just follow the said marine. If a brawl broke up, Bell was the finest choice to have as well. "Pull a seat if you want to." Whyte added, and looked at the one that was taken by the drunken man. " N' shove a man if you need to." He said quietly and grinned. |
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| James Bell | 8 Mar 2010, 08:27 PM Post #22 |
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When all else fails, beat people up
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"Pull a seat if you want to. N' shove a man if you need to." Bell grunted, already helping himself to somebody else's chair. He didn't care that there was already a body presently in the chair, either. "Yer not too clever," Bell observed, ignoring the protests from the drunkard who was now without a place to sit. "Stirrin' trouble up like this an' all." Lads like Whyte always got into trouble, until they learned better. If they learned better. |
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| sheshells | 9 Mar 2010, 03:00 AM Post #23 |
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Able Seaman
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"Poor old Amos," Molly said, speaking to the fellow on the floor but eyeing the young marine and his older friend. "It's a shame these brave lads couldn't prevent ye being robbed, 'specially as you was right under this young one's feet all the time. Don't know how it coulda happened with him sayin' he never saw a thing." |
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| James Bell | 9 Mar 2010, 03:11 AM Post #24 |
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When all else fails, beat people up
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Something like an expression of disgust settled onto Bell's face. "Don't ya know anythin' 'bout shuttin' yer gob, woman?" He snarled, favouring the barmaid with a decidedly unfriendly glare. Bell didn't really know Whyte, certainly not well enough to know whether or not to like him, but for the moment it was enough that Whyte was another marine. Bell couldn't care less if there had been any thieving, unless he was the one doing the thieving. In this instance, he hadn't, and therefore he had no interest in hearing about such a thing. Especially not from a halfwit barmaid like this one. She ought to be more careful what she said. |
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| DeathBlow | 9 Mar 2010, 04:10 AM Post #25 |
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Zombie
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It was deja vu. Or was it? Damian felt certain he’d been sitting at the table a moment ago, but perhaps he’d never gotten off the floor and had simply imagined sitting at the table... "Poor old Amos," Amos? That wasn’t his name. Was it? No. Couldn’t be. Definitely not. He wasn’t sure of very much in his present state, but he was fairly certain that he knew his own name. And it wasn’t Amos. On the other hand, Molly was being civil to him. Whoever this Amos bloke was, she seemed to like him better than Damian. “Notin’ to fret over. Prob’ly weren’t mine in t’ firs’ place,” he shrugged, starting to push himself up, “Give us a hand, would you, Molly? T’floor’s doin’ all manner of unnatural tings.” "Don't ya know anythin' 'bout shuttin' yer gob, woman?" Damian groaned. Oh nononono.....This was going to end badly. Very badly. And he did not want to get caught in the middle of it. “Molly, lass,” he began in a last ditch effort to prevent catastrophe, “Forget about me. I tink a customer’s lookin’ for ya. Y’know, t’ pretty one who’s been makin’ eyes at you all night?” |
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| Terence Whyte | 9 Mar 2010, 09:46 AM Post #26 |
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Warrant Officer
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"Yer not too clever," Now, that wasn't very nice. He felt offended, even when not fully sure it was meant for him. But smartly he held his tongue. Arguing with the hand that protected one's back was something only a daft lad would do. Or perhaps one who really wanted to have a fine beating. Stirrin' trouble up like this an' all." Bell continued, and the lad again for the most part, just gave him a nod. Not a frightened sort really, but just one of acceptance of that opinion. "Didn' start it." He spoke while he listened to young lady who had soiled the marine's reputation with every of her breaths and words. "It's a shame these brave lads couldn't prevent ye being robbed, 'specially as you was right under this young one's feet all the time. Don't know how it coulda happened with him sayin' he never saw a thing." He didn't attempt to look innocent. If one did, they were usually the ones guilty. Just acting natural, and possibly a bit annoyed as he did, was the right way to go. He raised his mug and drank from it. Bell's reputation he knew, though he didn't remember to ever encountering him in person. Not a man to play cards against, if cheating. He could probably break the cheater's spine in two, with a flick of his hand, or he and his brother would. "Don't ya know anythin' 'bout shuttin' yer gob, woman?" This had the lad grin. Crude, but very fine with words. He emptied the mug properly and thumped it on the table, as he was bringing it down. The drunk, now on the floor again had gone from asking for assistance to looking quite worried about this all turning into a brawl. “Forget about me. I tink a customer’s lookin’ for ya. Y’know, t’ pretty one who’s been makin’ eyes at you all night?” He arched a brow. "That customer has had his orders placed ..,be so kind n' serve him here, if he wants something." He indicated Bell, and then leaned comfortably in his chair. "And another mug of that you got, for me too." |
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| Andrea Costa | 9 Mar 2010, 05:38 PM Post #27 |
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Pirate
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If he hadn’t been involved in the discussion… somehow, Andrea would have watched it like a Commedia dell’Arte show in Venice. How it was funny and entertaining, changing situations from a moment to another! He flashed his most charming smile when Molly intervened cleverly in his defense, indirrectly demonstrating his innocence without flaunting it and without openly accusing another: "Poor old Amos! It's a shame these brave lads couldn't prevent ye being robbed, 'specially as you was right under this young one's feet all the time. Don't know how it coulda happened with him sayin' he never saw a thing." Andrea tried to suppress a chuckle. Yes, this girl wasn’t only pretty, but she had good brains too, besides that sharp tongue! Obviously the redcoats were less preferred than him, which made the oldest of them – the newcomer – to snarl at her, disgusted, something about shutting up… not so nicely stated. Then the drunkard, to whom she presumably was addressing, tried to appease the spirits: “Molly, lass, forget about me. I tink a customer’s lookin’ for ya. Y’know, t’ pretty one who’s been makin’ eyes at you all night?” He smiled again, recognising himself as the subject of discussion. So what if he liked her? She liked him too - the wink, the smiles and the gentle teasing let it to be guessed. Perhaps he’d steal a kiss from her later. Or maybe… more! But the young marine, that first one, seemed to be either jealous on Andrea’s success with Molly, or simply mean, raising a brow and showing his recently arrived mate: "That customer has had his orders placed …be so kind n' serve him here, if he wants something. And another mug of that you got, for me too." When Andrea looked again at the newcomer, he remembered also how impolite this one was with Molly. And if he was hoping to get the young barmaid’s attention, appearing a bit like a rescuing knight wouldn’t have made him look bad at all in her eyes. So, his hatred towards the redcoats added to the insult, he looked at the marine and told him on a firm tone: “I guess you are owing an apology to this nice girl. That is no way to talk to a woman who did nothing bad! I thought the soldiers had better manners! At least in my country, they do!” This was definitely true only at the beginning, the latest part he had no idea about. He had never met face to face a Venetian soldier, he had only seen them from the distance, and he based his statement on how the Frenchmen viewed theirs. He hadn’t met closely a French one either. |
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| James Bell | 9 Mar 2010, 05:50 PM Post #28 |
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When all else fails, beat people up
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Bell said nothing in direct response to Whyte's direction to the barmaid, and in fact waited a beat before grunting, "Rum. Plain." Why, precisely, they were in this place instead of their usual haunt, he had no idea. This was a decidedly rougher place than the King's Shilling. Not that Bell minded or even cared, of course. The rougher the better, in his estimation. The only thing missing was the overwhelming presence of other redcoats. That thought made him grimace. Was he getting soft? “I guess you are owing an apology to this nice girl. That is no way to talk to a woman who did nothing bad! I thought the soldiers had better manners! At least in my country, they do!” It was a smartly-dressed sailor who'd spoken. Bell glanced dismissively at him. Bloody sailors. They never knew how to keep their tar-stained noses out of other people's business. They never knew anything beyond how to run up and down the shrouds. "Who the soddin' 'ell're you callin' a soldier?" Bell snarled, "Been swappin' yer brains for pitch, I'll wager." Manners. Hmph. Manners were for officers and the bloody nobility. Bell put one hand on the socket of his sheathed bayonet, and sized the sailor up. He'd never met a Tar yet that he couldn't thrash within an inch of his life. "Better 'ave stayed in yer bleedin' country, 'adn't ya?" He added. "This 'ere town 'longs t'me." |
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| Andrea Costa | 9 Mar 2010, 08:31 PM Post #29 |
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Pirate
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The newcomer asked loudly for rhum, then looked disdainfully at him when Andrea reminded him the fair sex deserved more courtesy. Strangely enough, however, he snarled about having been called a soldier – as if his red coat was saying anything else! Marines were soldiers fighting at sea. They had nothing of the sailors’ skills… not mentioning that a former corsair like him, with capitaine Allegre’s training, was a thousand times better, being both a sailor and a swordsman, ready to fight any damn British vessel! He didn’t react at the other words because he didn’t understand the meaning. His English still had a limited vocabulary… But when the marine put a hand on the bayonet and looked appraisingly at him, he knew that he couldn’t avoid a fight. A real one. It was risky, of course, but had Andrea ever really cared about risks and challenges? He had a beautiful, easy spada di lato (sidesword) and he was Ange au Sabre, the Sword Angel feared by the Brits. So his hand caressed the pommel of his sword too, returning a bold jade green gaze. "Better 'ave stayed in yer bleedin' country, 'adn't ya?" the marine provoked him. "This 'ere town 'longs t'me." Andrea showed a despising smile: “Well, the destiny had wanted me to arrive here and to meet unsavory characters like you! And I don’t think that you own this town… or anybody else! It is a free town where everybody can drink, eat and be merry as long as he has what to pay with at the end!” “Not that he’d look like owing anything besides a bottle of rhum!” he thought. |
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| Terence Whyte | 9 Mar 2010, 09:28 PM Post #30 |
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Warrant Officer
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“Well, the destiny had wanted me to arrive here and to meet unsavory characters like you! And I don’t think that you own this town… or anybody else! It is a free town where everybody can drink, eat and be merry as long as he has what to pay with at the end!” The stranger said. Destiny? Destiny! The young marine clutched at his belly as he had burst into laughter. It sounded so cheesy, so cliche, like the sort of bad poetry that one would find in an even worse theatre. It wasn't that the lad had ever been to a theatre, but he had seen street performers, and he considered those better. "Destiny." He exclaimed, and extended his hand, in mock pose of one that pretended to be an actor. " Oh destiny, you cruel woman, yee who have brought me to this fateful place. Ye, who has made me meet those characters of unsavory lace." He arched a brow, and looked at the man. " I have come to free this land, without the help of my merry band, play now.. ye lot, I will beat you ... NOT, for I am but a poor Tar, come inter this bar, most ignorant, by far." And then he bowed, and chuckled. "You're silly, to speak like that, and you really should've listened, to me fellow marine here. It'd save you a fair bit o' pain." This time he was no longer joking. He looked seriously and coldly at the man , Tar. |
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| sheshells | 10 Mar 2010, 05:04 AM Post #31 |
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Able Seaman
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"Speakin' o' pain," Molly interrupted, stepping between the pirate and the young marine and slamming a pewter dish onto the table. "Eggy sausage pie. Eat up while it's hot, young'un. And fer you: rum plain, one-a-hapenny," she said to the older marine, holding the cup in her hand and waiting for him to pay. It was the one who had told her to shut her gob. Oh these men, idiots all. She simply rolled her eyes and hoped the reds wouldn't cause a mess. Though if the town belonged to this fellow, perhaps he would clean up the messes himself. |
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| Andrea Costa | 10 Mar 2010, 11:46 AM Post #32 |
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Pirate
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The marine was laughing at his words about destiny. He could laugh as much as he wanted, because Andrea knew better and believed in it. He had survived two shipwrecks. Two times he could have been dead, but God had brought to his path each time a special young woman who had shown him that life could have another meaning… only to drown him into a deeper sadness, with a broken heart. It was also fate who brought him to Marseille, to Gibraltar and then to these treacherous seas, she was the one who transformed Andrea, the sailor boy into Sword Angel, the corsair, and then the pirate of the “Black Pearl” crew. Meanwhile, that damn English pig was making fun of him in all kind of verses: "I have come to free this land, without the help of my merry band, play now.. ye lot, I will beat you ... NOT, for I am but a poor Tar, come inter this bar, most ignorant, by far." And then he bowed, and chuckled. The word “Tar” didn’t elicit any reaction of him, because he didn’t know it was a pejorative term for a sailor. Among the pirates he couldn’t hear it, because for them every mate was equally important. If they had something to say or somebody to curse, it was not because his job was lowlier, but because his attitude or words were bad. “You’re good at making verses. If you could put them to song too, be sure you’d win the hearts of all ladies… and you’d become famous without any heroic deeds at arms!” Andrea answered scornfully. “And I hope you were speaking only for yourself, as you seem ignorant enough!” he added. Certainly he was feeling that the words were directed to him, but why did he mentioning freeing the land, then? He was far from having such thoughts when capitaine Allegre had chosen (or had received orders) to hunt the British ships here in the Caribbeans, instead of harassing them around Gibraltar, how he had done before. He was only happy to see new places, new peoples… And he did not expect, at that time, that the same destiny would choose for him to become a pirate. The marine continued, imperturbably, his jest: "You're silly, to speak like that, and you really should've listened, to me fellow marine here. It'd save you a fair bit o' pain." How could he dare call him “silly”? And who would suffer more pain in a combat? Andrea was ready to answer sharply when Molly intervened, coming between them with the marines’ order and waiting for the pay. He couldn’t be mistaken in respect to her endearing attempt to keep peace. Was she afraid that they were two, and he was only one? Nonsense, he had fought with two at a time in more occasions than he could remember! Only that she couldn’t know it… Definitely she deserved a kiss for her good intention! However, he had to take care not to embarrass her, not to be too obvious… So, when she left the table, without any tray in hand, he put gallantly a hand around her shoulders and placed a quick kiss on her rosy cheek before letting her go where the duties called her. It was a daring attitude indeed, but not as bold as to become inappropriate and to risk her hate. If she liked it and wanted more, this would be her choice for later – irrespective if it meant after the fight with the redcoats or only when she finished her shift, if the fight could be avoided. |
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| James Bell | 10 Mar 2010, 02:40 PM Post #33 |
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When all else fails, beat people up
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Bell said nothing as he searched his pockets for coin. Obviously he'd have to pay for his drink. A ha'penny for some piss-water rum and a good rolling scrap was no great price. "Eat fast," he grunted at Whyte, handing the barmaid the coin. He downed the mug's contents in a single long swallow and shrugged in mute acknowledgment of the drink's potency. "Done yet?" It hardly mattered if Whyte was finished with his pie or not. Bell was going to open the proceedings regardless. This fancy-talking Tar with his prim officer's blade presented no great threat. The militia carried swords, proper ones, and muskets and bayonets as well. He and his brother had killed plenty of those bastards despite their having better arms. The Newcastleman stood up from his chair. A man who relied on a sword to defend himself was a fool. "We gots a probl'm 'ere. I don't like probl'ms." |
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| Terence Whyte | 10 Mar 2010, 02:58 PM Post #34 |
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Warrant Officer
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Though Whyte was tempted to make a retort to the stranger, the arrival of his pie, and the order that he ought to eat it fast, silenced him for the moment. Stuffing his mouth with the food, he knew that anything not eaten just then would be lost, wasted when things would turn for the worse. He mmphed and gulped another piece of his pie quickly. It was best that he would not choke on his food, which he was in danger of doing. If only he hadn't just finished his mug. It would've come to good use right then. He wasn't yet done when Bell asked his question. He looked up and saw the marine stand. With a grunt he took the plate seemed to debate the proper spot, where he could find it to be safest to retrieve later. There was no Tar, trustful enough, to leave it with. He scowled and tore from the pie what could prove to be the last piece he was to eat from it. "Will pay you for a drink, if you keep it safe, an' don't eat it." He said to the drunk after thrusting the plate into his hands. Respectively, if his choice was poorly laid, he'd save his money he might've spent paying for the said drink, if his choice was well placed, then he would have a pie and perhaps pay the man for something cheap, or convince him he had done so, and be off with his pie. So, as all ways good, he stood as well, smirking. "He'll fly like a bird.." |
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| sheshells | 12 Mar 2010, 05:48 AM Post #35 |
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Able Seaman
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 "The deuce you are," Deverel countered, sitting up suddenly from his near-sleeping possition on the next table. The entire room seemed listing to starboard, and he stretched out an arm to catch all of his bottles lest they slide off of the table. He fixed the young marine with his eye. "There is nothing stronger than pie. Don't forget, lad." He lifted a glass to toss off the contents but found him staring at it with much wonder. "There's a flower in my glass! Or no, it's a ball! Or not, it's a ball made of flowers." He emptied it down his throat and looked around in amazement at the decoration of the room. "Amos, Amos look at this," he said in awe, reaching and kicking under the table for the unseen Amos. Edited by sheshells, 12 Mar 2010, 06:01 AM.
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