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Post by Porthos du Valon on Apr 13, 2005 20:55:24 GMT -5
A drunken grin lit up Porthos’ pudgy face, a devilish gleam in his eye. So Narcissa the Bloody, the biggest bitch sailing, wanted to bed him. My, had his reputation gotten around! The subtle gestures and suggestive smiles, the bending over to show off her…assets….left little doubt exactly what her intentions were. Porthos looked to each woman at his elbow and gently pulled his arms away.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, it appears I am required elsewhere.” The women were glaring at Narcissa by now and he gave them each a small smile. “No need to fret, fair maidens. I shall return and then we will eat, drink and be very merry. Until then, drink up!”<br> Bowing slightly, Porthos allowed Narcissa to lead him away, having no idea what lay ahead for him. Narcissa the Bloody was one woman that sailors always talked about, with a tone of either reverence or pure terror. Each and every one of them wanted her in the sack, to get a look at her without her clothes on, but it was suicide to try and get into her pants. But he, Porthos du Valon, was being led to his chambers by the very woman he had always bragged he would bed. My, it was turning out to be an interesting evening.
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D'Artagnan
Threat
There's no Queen of America!
Posts: 3
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Post by D'Artagnan on Apr 13, 2005 20:57:16 GMT -5
What was he going to say? What could he say? Still young as a Musketeer and he already had a large challenge before him. That was informing Aramis and Athos. Something he didn’t readily look forwards too. There wasn’t an easy way to phrase blunt news but somehow D’Artagnan had to tell it. Sandy hair shook as his head did, before the large brimmed hat was placed upon his head, the plum falling behind his neck. With a deep breath, hands smoothed the blue and silver tunic he now wore proudly. But this, this was hard even for him. Portho’s had become a close friend, probably closer than he was with either Athos or Aramis. They had each other. He and Portho’s were a lot alike, so he couldn’t understand what could have changed. Why.
Booted feet almost held that sound of burden as he walked the grounds. He knew where he was headed, the local tavern the other two Musketeers out of the former quartet often found themselves with a drink. Tucked just inside his tunic was the decree sent from the king. That, they, Porthos’ once closest friends and allies should be the ones to track him and bring him to justice for crimes against the crown. Bearer of the bad news. In away it didn’t sit well with the young Musketeer. Pushing through the doorway his head lowered.
Eyes lifted and adjusted to the dim lighting before his chin tipped up as well. Scanning he looked for the two men. He figured they’d be somewhere near the back. With each step he grew more worried as to how they would respond. With a deep breath he stopped in front of the table where they were drinking. Still he hadn’t formulated what he wanted to say. Hand reached into his tunic and lied the rolled parchment upon the table. “Our orders from the King…”
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Athos
Threat
"I will do my sworn duty to protect the King."
Posts: 6
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Post by Athos on Apr 13, 2005 23:02:18 GMT -5
The waxy light from the tavern’s candles cast their light across the pair of friends as they sat drinking together. It was after the hours of their shift, and this was the pub off the beaten path where they could go and not be disturbed by the tourists in Paris. Another round of red wine was set before the two men and Athos leaned back in his chair to take a long drink.
Of all the Musketeers, Athos was the most mysterious. He walked a path that was always few steps apart from the others. He never spoke of his late wife and pain that his heart still had for her loss. He never delved into the demons of his personal past, and last of all he did not wear his heart on his sleeve. Only when he was three sheets to the wind, did anything of significance come out and even then it was only D’Artagnan who seemed apt at gleaning nuggets of his past. Secretly it was because Athos saw a lot of himself in the boy and hoped that he could shield him from walking the same path he had. He despised the cynical tenor that was always biting in his voice, but he’d accepted it. D’Artagnan did not deserve to do the same.
This evening the unofficial leader of the trio was listening to his biblically trained friend. A graveled laugh worked up out of him as he grinned and lifted his glass once more. Aramis’ boasting of his previous night’s conquest had him in a jovial mood that was sure to change once his head turned in response to the door. The boy’s cheeks were flush and he has a look in his eyes that was unmistakably serious. The youthful D’Artagnan came forth, unfurling an official document. Athos kicked his boots off the edge of the table and leaned in to read the orders the King had bestowed upon them. At first he couldn’t believe it, his azure eyes looking up to the boy and then back down re-reading the same words.
They were to hunt down Porthos du Valon and bring him back; dead, or alive.
"I was wondering when we'd have to do this..." He paused almost turning away from the paper as he poised to take another drink. His hand lowered as he caught the boy’s empathetic eyes. Athos read that D’Artagnan couldn’t believe his cold reply to an order against a man he had in years before considered a brother. "Don't give me that look D'Artagnan, you knew as much as I what Porthos did ...when he committed treason against the crown..." #nosmileys
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Post by Narcissa the Bloody on Apr 14, 2005 22:22:09 GMT -5
Truly, the last thing the slender sea witch wanted to do was bed the oaf, but surely she cared not... if he were to see one pale glimpse of her skin beneath her clothes... a body part would be taken off, if now his life cord severed. A smirk pulled him nearer, she moved close and blew her sea breath into his ear, softly tugging him forward... "Join me Porthos..."
Daniel, the bartender, shook his head with a look of sorrow. He had always liked Porthos... too bad, he thought with a sigh. Continuing to scrub the counters, he remembered the tamer (not by much) Narcissa of youth... "Now look at ye, 'Cissa... yer daddeh would'a be proud."
Up the stairs, Narcissa led him by his leather sash... taunting him with her curves and a meek smile under the waves of red/black hair. Surely she was more than most women when it came to her curves... but her cunning was that of a fox, and this fox wanted to get to the rabbit burried under the brush.
Entering her chambers for the night, she turned slowly, still tugging Porthos along with her strong slender arms. "So... Porthos du Valon... tell me, when did you turn bad again..." turning towards him, the question brought a spark of fire into her eyes... one a true woman would have. She loved her ability to act.
Her strength collided with his body as she pulled him onto the feeble bed that was given to her, slender fingers undressing him as she spoke. "And... are you back to your old ways of how I hear you used to be? Sir Womanizer of the Water?" She grinned slightly.
With that grin she began to slow down her undressing of him. "Perhaps not... I doubt I could name a girl and you would know who she was..." she smirked some, eyes looking him up and down.
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Aramis
Threat
Leaving so soon?
Posts: 2
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Post by Aramis on Apr 19, 2005 21:59:29 GMT -5
There sat Aramis in his tunic of earthy tones, trimmed goatee of dark that matched his longer hair. Eyes looked out over the tavern as he sat next to Athos. The two were much like brothers, musketeers together and friends. Though he was a man of god, for the most part. After being a pupil of the Cardinal. With a sigh he poured himself another drink before turning to his friend speaking theologies to him.
While Athos was mysterious, Porthos had been lively, the young D’Artagnan was spirited, he Aramis was his own. Calmer than most, though just as deadly to come across. Most times taking on at least two men at a time if not more. Yet for each man that fell from his blade he prayed for them. Though he studied the Bible well and the word, he led his own lively life as he started to perk up the mood with his story of the night prior. The women who could hardly contain herself. He chuckled as well before the young D’Artagnan entered.
Perhaps he was reminded of himself in the young boy. The hopes and dreams the naiveties of life. The Cardinal had crushed those ideas in a younger Aramis at the time, before he join the Musketeers and fought against the men like the Cardinal and Rochfort. Silently he watched as the parchment was opened and their orders revealed. So they were going after Porthos. He had his own moral ideas of it, when he’d found the woman who’s embrace caressed him had been married, he dropped to his knees to pray for his sins. Of course God was busy as shots were fired over his head and he escaped.
Eyes looked over to Athos. “So it is to be us to go after him? A dear friend and brother. Athos poor D’Artagnan is only the messenger.” But it was hard to forget all the adventures they’d had together as a trio of young Musketeers growing up. “I am just as upset about it as you Athos, that we should be the ones to go after Porthos.”
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William Turner
Threat
"...Oh so that the reason for all the..." ~lifts eyebrow and hands, swaying and immitating Jack~
Posts: 26
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Post by William Turner on Apr 22, 2005 0:21:34 GMT -5
Change always came upon men slowly; the same could be said for the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner. He never noticed them in himself until a person of familiarity came into his life and he noticed the change in reaction and mannerisms. Now when he stood before Sparrow he was not the naive youth with his jacket freshly pressed and his hair neatly combed, and his wits and ideals somewhere in the clouds. Although he was dressed in the attire Redd had forced upon him, he was still very outwardly changed. Perhaps there were a few more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his voice was smoother and without the brash reactionary tenor of anger and masculine posturing.
It was with this newfound confidence that he now pulled out to confront the woman holding his first mate. “I will ask this once and only once of you madam. Do not pull steel against my men while we are aboard your captain’s vessel. We are all in a predicament that warrants non-linear thought, so even if this man is the one you have accused him of being, it makes no difference while we are willing to lay down our blades and make peace with what remains of your crew.”
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Westley
Threat
I might be bluffing. <br>It's possible.. pig
Posts: 3
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Post by Westley on Apr 22, 2005 0:30:10 GMT -5
Wearing the shadowed black of a fencer and a mask upon his face, the former farmer now pirate of the high seas was a bit taken aback at what he saw. A woman had just grabbed him at the arm, a knife was to his throat and he had found himself face to face with the woman of his heart. But she could not be Buttercup, could she? The posturing was the same, her voice and hair, even the way she smelled, but if not for her eyes. It was in her eyes that he found the doubt that perhaps this was just a sign that he was truly doomed to spend the rest of his days trying to fill the shoes of his true love with woman who only came close to her memory. The eyes he looked into now were cold, sad and without the glimmer of light he’d remembered… but the way she spoke… His mind was reeling with shock.
His lips parted to answer her accusation when at once he heard the voice of Turner at his side. He was barking orders, as well as he could on a ship that was not of his command, and Westley found himself smirking at the look that was now awash on Buttercup’s face. Arms folded arrogantly across his chest as he scolded her like one would a small child. “tisk, tisk, tisk…. Why loose your venom on me woman… I have done you no disservice. Though I can’t say my carnal mind hadn’t just now crossed the thought…” He was preening, speaking so coldly to her now that he’d felt he was of the upper hand.
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Capt Redd
Threat
Don't send a man to do a woman's job.
Posts: 22
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Post by Capt Redd on Apr 22, 2005 13:28:28 GMT -5
With a heavy heart she watched as Will's crew spilled out onto the vast decks of her ship, some of them going to make repairs, others headed to help man the ship, and any without a job helping to send the dead to their watery graves. She held back the tears, she would cry later and alone, for now she needed to be strong for those of her once grand crew that was left. Gin had been spared thank Neptune, but so many others had not and so many others had still gone unaccounted for.
Taking hold of a rope to her right, the red tressed woman slid down it, her boots hitting the upper deck as she placed the glass to her eye once again," Tortuga." She muttered, it would be a good place to drop anchor until repairs were done. In her mind she calculated the distance they had been dragged as there was little to no other explination for their current bearings," Gents and Ladies whom are left! Git the anchors ready to be dropped! We aproach Tortuga!" She gave the orders and placed both hands steadily on the wheel, her eyes focused as she gave it a twirl to the left and the ship with a slight groan of protest headed for the port of safe haven for pirates.
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Post by Joslynn 'Buttercup' Daniels on Apr 26, 2005 15:04:41 GMT -5
Eyes darted to the other who was coming to try and intervene and she scowled. Her heart raced inside her chest and eyes looked once more to Westley before back up at Will, she wasn’t going to lower her blade.“I know for a fact that Roberts was the Captain of the Revenge. The ship I watched sink into the depths of Davy Jones locker. This matter doesn’t concern you.” Her gaze fixed once more upon the man before her, he was the man who’d taken the ship her love had been on, he was the one who changed her life. She didn’t care if the men were helping their own remnants of a crew a pair of less hands wouldn’t make much difference.
With ever moment she held this man, blade to his throat was all the more the ache in her heart grew. She wanted vengeance something, anything, but something inside her couldn’t bring herself to kill him, even as he stood just before her. Then his voice cut into her thoughts making her hate him even more as he taunted her. “You killed my love!” she moved closer to him, the tone of his voice was cold and hers matched. So much had she been through because of him. Westley would have returned for her and she wouldn’t have ever had to deal with that pig of a prince or turn to the life she lived. She swallowed to hide the pain as hand gripped tighter the blade.
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Post by Porthos du Valon on Apr 27, 2005 23:24:44 GMT -5
Giggling, Porthos allowed himself to be led to his own chamber. Narcissa shut and bolted the door behind him, which any sober man would have taken as a very, very bad sign. Instead, Porthos began to sway and looked at her through bloodshot, bleary eyes.
“So, my dear. Do you care to dance?”<br> The woman was in a shadow, the torchlight from outside not illuminating much in his small room. Hearing only the rustle of clothing, Porthos found himself flat on his back on the bed. Feeling her breasts rub over his ample stomach as she reached over his head to pin his hands at the wrist, he smiled.
“Oh, baby…you’re the take charge type, aren’t you? I like that in a woman.”<br> More rustling of clothing and he was suddenly shirtless, scraps of cloth clinging to his arms. She maneuvered him so that she could tie his hands to the bed with his own sash. Narcissa sat on him, fumbling in the dark to light the candle she had seen in the light from hallway before shutting the door.
“Uh, you tied this awfully tight. I can’t feel my fingers.”<br>“Ya won’t be needin’ them.”<br>“But of course I will,” Porthos said, a drunken grin creeping across his face. “I have the fingers of luuuuuuv, baby.”<br> Narcissa finally the candle lit and she held it over him, leaning in close. “Now, fat man, yer gonna tell me what I want ta hear. Dun make me do this tha hard way.”<br> Confusion slowly clouded his features as his eyes wavered between her face and the candle. “Wha-what?” In response, Narcissa tilted the candle and dribbled hot wax across his chest, causing him to yell in surprise. Narcissa merely smiled. Interesting night, indeed.
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Post by The Black Banshee on Apr 28, 2005 22:59:09 GMT -5
Rhiannon lay in a hammock, her hands folded on her stomach. She was certain she was dead, something she had cemented in her mind by visiting her own grave. Yet, she still had the physical properties of a mortal; all of the senses, able to touch, feel and even to make love. The Banshee was corporeal, but still a ghost. It was one more paradox of her existence that both puzzled and frustrated her.
The hammock swayed ever so slightly, the palm leaves towering over her rustling. Her dark eyes were focused on the Imminent Death anchored off shore. She watched as her crew hoisted new sails and the ship rocked on its anchor. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of home and nothing but the screams of the crew they had murdered that morning came to her.
Rhiannon rolled out of the hammock, the fine sand of the beach feeling like refined sugar beneath her bare feet. She began to pace, a habit she hadn’t lost in death. Murderer. Pillager. Thief. Was she really no better than the very men she had returned to vanquish? Closing her eyes, she stopped pacing and cupped her elbows in her hands, head bowed. What had she done in her life that had warranted this kind of hell? Was she missing something? Had she not gotten one of the original crew?
Letting out a sound that was half disgust and half helplessness, Rhiannon began to pace again. The screams of dying men were replaced with her own screams, as the twenty or so pirates aboard the Devil’s Plunder did unspeakable things to her again and again until her mind had broken. She had screamed endlessly then, clawing at her own face and body until the captain put the pistol to her forehead and pulled the trigger.
Wincing, Rhiannon touched the spot, just above her nose where the musket ball had gone in and brought her finger tips away slightly bloodied. The blood faded from her fingers and she knew then what she was doing with her crew was right. The vengeance born from the fear, pain and anguish she had felt would never be quelled. #nosmileys
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Jolly Gin
Threat
Sixteen Men and some Jolly Gin, One come out where Ten went in.
Posts: 6
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Post by Jolly Gin on May 26, 2005 10:23:55 GMT -5
She was a bit happy to see the crew and all getting right along. They needed this help, much more than any of them could say. Gin got to work with the rest of the other crew. If Redd trusted these blokes, then Gin trusted em. Well, at least for a while. She moved to help a man who was putting the dead remains of their crew into their respectful place, down into the oceans belly. The respectful coffin of any Pirate. With each toss over board, the more her heart began to sink. Her sisters, how could you not cry for them? " May Davy Jones always keep ye safe, good Sisters of the seas." her voice was quite but still quite audible to the one whom she helped. She paid her respects..each one of them as vital to her as the next. They were her family.
When all was done and only the injured remained in the help of the men, she turned to the man who helped rest them in their place. Putting an arm on his shoulder she smiled, " Thank ye for ya help. And they thank ya too." she was refered to the souls of the dead. " Ye crew be alright." she laughed gently before turning to see the whole interaction between Joslyn and that man. His words, oh wow did they ever edge joslyn on. And from the sounds of it Gin didn't blame her. Moving slowly to her side, she placed a hand gently at Joslyn's own. The extended one where the blade sat. " Josy-gi'l, put down ye blade please. We need these men help, and they be getting emunity from de Captian. Sides.." her pale eyes turned to Westley and they narrowed a bit. Arrogant little butt wasn't he? " Ye can 'ave yer way wit 'im later. Soun's like 'e be needed a good woppin' from ya" her eyes narrowed a bit at the man. How dare he upset Joslyn, that made Gin irritated. She didn't like her sisters being hurt in any shape size or form. And this man was doing the worst, worse than whomever created the carnage now, her was attacking her heart and soul.
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Post by Narcissa the Bloody on Jun 22, 2005 22:38:31 GMT -5
Now she had him where she wanted him, pinned and tied. Green orbs stared him down as she dropped the steaming wax drop by drop… then a hot stream. “Sooner or later I’ll be tirin of dis… and ye’ll be bleedin till ya answer meh questions…” she hissed in his ear.
"My dear lady I have no clue as to what you are-" his scream filled the night as she poured more wax onto his ample belly. "I normally do not beg... but madam that is truly begining to burn..."
Her hiss could be heard out the door as she poured wax on his neck to his nipples. She was not a happy Narcissa at the moment.
She had him straddled in a way where his legs were useless to him, his arms tied so tight his fingers purpled, and his belly out to the world, her dagger in one hand and the candle in the next. “Despite the claim of me bein tha las’ virgin of de sea… my legs are very strong, Porthos… now… I need ta know…. Where me sista is…”
Her eyes stared him directly through… as if she were staring through and burning a hole into his mind. “’Er name is Talyn… tho she goes by da Silent Stone… ‘er eyes are blue as the sea… ‘air as black as night… ‘ave ya seen ‘er… an trust me… I am a human lie detector… “ dropping more melted wax her face hardened even more somehow… “do not lie ta me…” her voice was a growl there.
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Post by Joslynn 'Buttercup' Daniels on Jul 2, 2005 20:12:23 GMT -5
He was everything rumored to be, ruthless and uncaring, she saw it in the way he handled the matter with her. Like he could care about a woman’s heartbreak, no not Roberts. But no matter how she convinced herself to try and take his life, she couldn’t, she only thought of Westly. With a painful sigh she released the dagger from his throat until it thunked into the wooden floor. “I only spare your life because my dearest would have never wanted to see me come to this…”
She turned to Gin who’d helped her at her side, out of all the girls Gin was the closest to her on this ship. She knew almost everything, except the information about Westly. She didn’t speak his name, she couldn’t each time only hurt more. And now this it felt like she was dying. “Aye…” but her voice held a tone of defeat. And slowly she moved away from her sister, and the man she believed was the end of her love.
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Capt Redd
Threat
Don't send a man to do a woman's job.
Posts: 22
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Post by Capt Redd on Jul 10, 2005 17:12:38 GMT -5
The heaviness in her heart had lightened a bit, but the emotion still remained in her eyes, the anger, the frustration, the hurt, and the uncertainty were all deep set in her azure gaze. Behind them the sun was falling into the blue waves, a long day was coming to a close as the Peril began to come along side the port, “ Drop anchors!” The command was given, and even though she tried her hardest to keep the usual vigor and control in her voice, it was simply not the same.
As soon as she felt the ship give it’s tired groan in relief of the anchors forcing it to cease in it’s endless quests, Redd was on land and headed for one of the many taverns populating the pirate safe haven. Tonight she would find solace in ale until she was drunk beyond reason and then tomorrow she would face and deal with going onwards to seek out her revenge.
Paying no heed to the voices and actions of the party island, Redd moved weaving in and out of the crowds as if they were not present, her mind set on the desire to forget and her taste set on the cold draught from a tin mug, her body desiring the warmth of a bed and a bath to soak in, and perhaps she will indulge, but only after drinking herself under the table would she even consider resting her tired limbs. For once it was good to be on land.
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