The young girl sat huddled in the corner of the small room she shared with her mother and watched with large dark eyes as the tavernkeeper's wife drew the cloth over her mother's face. She clutched a figurine of a small mermaid carved from whalebone as the tavernkeeper and his wife talked over her as if she was deaf. All her little four year old mind knew was that her mother would no longer speak to her or pet her and had not since they brought her in her with the knife wound to her stomach the night before.
"Silly wench, fighting over some male...would thought she'd known better after all these years." The tavenkeeper's tone was scathing.
"What be done be done, but it doesn't tell us what we will do with her lil brat now do it?" His wife looked at the small child scornfully. The child's dark curls spilled down her back in an untamed riot much like her dead mother's, but the huge dark eyes must have been her da's. Feeling the scorn of the woman's gaze, the child had the temerity to glower at them, the scowling expression looking completely alien to the angelic features.
"Well, we could keep her here until the lass grows of age, raise her ourselves." The tavernkeeper had forgotten his missus's jealousy of the dark haired Stella, and the attentions he had given the part time dancer, part time tavern doxy.
"I am not raisin the filthy brat of that damned wench, or are ya tellin me the brat is yours?"
The woman's sour expression and greying hair reminded the child of the witch in the stories her mum told her. But at the insults to her person the little girl shot to her feet and ran to kick the woman in the shins. "I ain't dirty, and I ain't a brat!"
The tavernkeeper's wife grabbed the child by her arm, grateful for any excuse to take her animosity out of a being smaller than she. It was the hiss of a blade being drawn from its sheath that made all three look to the door. "I strongly suggest you rethink placing your hands the child, madame, unless you wish me to carve a permenate scowl on your face. Perhaps it may even improve what the gods have given you hmmmm? " The voice was dark and rich, amusement present in its depth's although the intent was deadly.
The child stared at the man in the doorway in curiosity. His silver streaked hair was as curly as her own, but his was clubbed back, flowing halfway down his back in a long tail. His clothing was unlike anything she had seen, all black and silver and crimson, the red feather of his hat sweeping back flamboyantly. But his eyes were most telling, the dark brown shade nearly identical to her own, though his seemed to twinkle with a lust for life. The man smiled at the child and gave her an impish wink, before his eyes took in the corpse of the woman and grew shadowed with sadness and perhaps regret.
At the threat to his wife that fat tavernkeeper blustered. "Who the hell are ya? This ain't any business of yours...get out!"
The male gave a smirk and with a flourishing bow, introduced himself. "Ahhhh, yes, let us be civilized. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gregory Quick, captain of the Crimson Opal...and I will tell you that this is very much my business as the child that fat sow you call wife is about to strike is my daughter."
Both the tavernkeeper and his wife went pale, the tales of this man well known to them. The wife dropped the girl's arm as if scalded, whispering to her husband. "Ya think it be true...ya think the brat be his?" Her husband answered back, "Do ya really care if it means we be rid of the devil?"
Gregory moved to kneel in front of the child, gently lifting her chin so he could gaze into her dark eyes. His gaze drifted down to the figurine clutched in her hand and he smiled, "So you did receive the mermaid I sent, hmmm, Isabella lass? Took me months to carve that, it did." Isabella looked at the man claiming to be her father with huge serious eyes. Her mother had spoken of him, but she had no memories of him at all. Gregory's heart melted at the confusion and insecurity he saw in the child's eyes. He landed in port today, too late to stop the fight that took Stella's life so little Isabella was his duty now. He picked her up carefully then turned to speak to the tavernkeeper in a deadly voice.
"See to it Stella is given a proper burial." He tossed a purse bulging with coin at their feet. "And I do mean proper as we will return to visit her grave and if it isn't up to my standard I will take the difference out on your hide." He placed his hat on the child's curly head then tickled her nose with the feather. "As for my lass here, no orphanage for her." He gave her an engaging grin that she couldn't help but answer with a small smile of her own. " Ready to sail, Isabella?"
Hell Hath No Fury...Like a Woman with No Boat
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baby1111007
- Dragon Rider
- Posts: 878
- Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 9:33 pm
- Location: cooking up a storm in the kitchens
Hell Hath No Fury...Like a Woman with No Boat
Last edited by baby1111007 on Tue Oct 10, 2006 9:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Reina Lianacia Mellan, Musae Magister of the Ordo Magica
Tahl'Nae Rhaz
Cynthia Ashallows , Moonsinger
Yaassima
Isabella Quick
Reina Lianacia Mellan, Musae Magister of the Ordo Magica
Tahl'Nae Rhaz
Cynthia Ashallows , Moonsinger
Yaassima
Isabella Quick
-
StormRunner
- Dasarian Hero
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- Location: Brocation?!
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Evelond Formos
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KoolestLoser
- GLORIOUS DASARIAN
- Posts: 1132
- Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 10:42 pm
- Location: Reincarnated, dood.
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baby1111007
- Dragon Rider
- Posts: 878
- Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 9:33 pm
- Location: cooking up a storm in the kitchens
"Land ho!" The girl's voice rang out from the top of the crow's nest, drawing smiles from many of the sailors, a few scowls from others. Bella took to life on the sea quite well, her long sun kissed curls blowing wildly in the breeze, her skin painted a deep brown by the sun. She climbed further up the crow's nest for a better view, shimmying up the pole more like a monkey than a young child.
His daughter's antics drew a loud groan from the Captain, but his best friend and first mate Robbie let out a loud laugh as he clasped Gregory on the shoulder and tugged at a lock of his hair. "Our lass will be given ya many grey hairs, captain. And she ain't even developing yet!" Gregory scowled then called out to Isabella in his loud and authoritative voice. "What colors lass? ....and by Ramman, hold on tightly !"
Isabella looked through the spyglass with one hand, as she held onto a rope with the other, both legs firmly wrapped around the mast. Her father's idea of an education was geography, maps, recognition of flags, the art of sailing, and languages. To his dismay the rest of the crew taught her cussing and songs that no eight year old had business singing. "Dasarian flag, Captain!"
Gregory nodded and gestured to the waiting sailors to raise the Dasarian flag. "Loyal Dasarian's we be this eve!" The comment drew much laughter from the sailors, for in truth they were loyal only to themselves. Gregory watched as Isabella fastened spyglass in the belt that held up her baggy pants and began to swing down from rope to rope. His small groan drew another chuckle from Robbie, but both men were tense until Isabella landed right at their feet. Gregory ruffled the girl's hair before swatting her on the rear. "Go clean yourself up, me girl." He laughed as she poked out her tongue before moving below deck.
Robbie watched the scene, not only the interaction of between his friend and the child, but the reactions of the crew. Sailors are a superstitious lot, and some of them placed the blame for every storm at sea, every missed ship, even something so simple as a broken rope on the lass' head. "Gregory, some of the crew still be mutterin 'bout our Bella bein bad luck. I dinna think she should be left alone when we go ta shore." Gregory looked Robbie in the eyes , the worry reflected in the normally merry blue depths stilling his usual sharp retort. "Superstitious nonsense," he muttered before continuing. "Who makes threats against me daughter and me judgement?"
Robbie shook his head. "Nae threats yet, Gregory, just me being cautious...and so far it be jist mutterings here and there, but no sense in temptin fate." Gregory pondered that for a moment and nodded. "Robbie, think I be doin the right thing, tryin ta raise her myself?" Robbie looked out to sea, weighing his words carefully. "I ain't ever had no lass tell me I was da to her rugrat, Greg, so it be hard fer me ta say. But you an I both know an orphanage ain't no place for a kid. Sure, we could probably find some family ta raise her, but hell I am now used ta havin the hellion around." Robbie looked back at his best friend. "I love yer lass as if she be me own, with the two of us keepin eyes on the hellion, even if one of these sea rats decided ta pull anything, they'd be stopped in short order." Gregory looked grim for a moment, much like the devil many believed him to be. "Stopped then hangin from the tallest yardarm."
He paused for a moment , looking over the busy crew as they prepared for a landing at the nearby seaport. He would trust the bulk of them, they had been his family for years. Most seemed to adore Isabella. Surely their loyalty to him and Isabella's natural charm would win over superstitious nonsense.
Gods I hate that damned little wench. Why did the captain ever bring her on board? Jean-Paul watched Isabella scurry below, his green eyes narrowed like a cat. The twelve year old lad had been hired on as a cabin boy, saved from the slums of some port town by Gregory himself. He had idolized the captain...until Gregory brought his brat aboard. Once Isabella arrived, the captain didn't treat him so much like a son. Then as the wee wench grew and learned, she took over many of "his" duties until the captain finally replaced him with her, making him just another crew member. "Bad luck," the lad muttered as he coiled rope. "Females dinna belong on a ship, they belong flat on they backs or in a kitchen." One of the other sailors cuffed him on the arm and laughed. "Damn straight, me boy! Ya be growin inta a real man now!" The blond youth took the teasing with a small tight grin. One day I'll be puttin the wench in her place, captain's kid or not.
His daughter's antics drew a loud groan from the Captain, but his best friend and first mate Robbie let out a loud laugh as he clasped Gregory on the shoulder and tugged at a lock of his hair. "Our lass will be given ya many grey hairs, captain. And she ain't even developing yet!" Gregory scowled then called out to Isabella in his loud and authoritative voice. "What colors lass? ....and by Ramman, hold on tightly !"
Isabella looked through the spyglass with one hand, as she held onto a rope with the other, both legs firmly wrapped around the mast. Her father's idea of an education was geography, maps, recognition of flags, the art of sailing, and languages. To his dismay the rest of the crew taught her cussing and songs that no eight year old had business singing. "Dasarian flag, Captain!"
Gregory nodded and gestured to the waiting sailors to raise the Dasarian flag. "Loyal Dasarian's we be this eve!" The comment drew much laughter from the sailors, for in truth they were loyal only to themselves. Gregory watched as Isabella fastened spyglass in the belt that held up her baggy pants and began to swing down from rope to rope. His small groan drew another chuckle from Robbie, but both men were tense until Isabella landed right at their feet. Gregory ruffled the girl's hair before swatting her on the rear. "Go clean yourself up, me girl." He laughed as she poked out her tongue before moving below deck.
Robbie watched the scene, not only the interaction of between his friend and the child, but the reactions of the crew. Sailors are a superstitious lot, and some of them placed the blame for every storm at sea, every missed ship, even something so simple as a broken rope on the lass' head. "Gregory, some of the crew still be mutterin 'bout our Bella bein bad luck. I dinna think she should be left alone when we go ta shore." Gregory looked Robbie in the eyes , the worry reflected in the normally merry blue depths stilling his usual sharp retort. "Superstitious nonsense," he muttered before continuing. "Who makes threats against me daughter and me judgement?"
Robbie shook his head. "Nae threats yet, Gregory, just me being cautious...and so far it be jist mutterings here and there, but no sense in temptin fate." Gregory pondered that for a moment and nodded. "Robbie, think I be doin the right thing, tryin ta raise her myself?" Robbie looked out to sea, weighing his words carefully. "I ain't ever had no lass tell me I was da to her rugrat, Greg, so it be hard fer me ta say. But you an I both know an orphanage ain't no place for a kid. Sure, we could probably find some family ta raise her, but hell I am now used ta havin the hellion around." Robbie looked back at his best friend. "I love yer lass as if she be me own, with the two of us keepin eyes on the hellion, even if one of these sea rats decided ta pull anything, they'd be stopped in short order." Gregory looked grim for a moment, much like the devil many believed him to be. "Stopped then hangin from the tallest yardarm."
He paused for a moment , looking over the busy crew as they prepared for a landing at the nearby seaport. He would trust the bulk of them, they had been his family for years. Most seemed to adore Isabella. Surely their loyalty to him and Isabella's natural charm would win over superstitious nonsense.
Gods I hate that damned little wench. Why did the captain ever bring her on board? Jean-Paul watched Isabella scurry below, his green eyes narrowed like a cat. The twelve year old lad had been hired on as a cabin boy, saved from the slums of some port town by Gregory himself. He had idolized the captain...until Gregory brought his brat aboard. Once Isabella arrived, the captain didn't treat him so much like a son. Then as the wee wench grew and learned, she took over many of "his" duties until the captain finally replaced him with her, making him just another crew member. "Bad luck," the lad muttered as he coiled rope. "Females dinna belong on a ship, they belong flat on they backs or in a kitchen." One of the other sailors cuffed him on the arm and laughed. "Damn straight, me boy! Ya be growin inta a real man now!" The blond youth took the teasing with a small tight grin. One day I'll be puttin the wench in her place, captain's kid or not.
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Reina Lianacia Mellan, Musae Magister of the Ordo Magica
Tahl'Nae Rhaz
Cynthia Ashallows , Moonsinger
Yaassima
Isabella Quick
Reina Lianacia Mellan, Musae Magister of the Ordo Magica
Tahl'Nae Rhaz
Cynthia Ashallows , Moonsinger
Yaassima
Isabella Quick
-
KoolestLoser
- GLORIOUS DASARIAN
- Posts: 1132
- Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 10:42 pm
- Location: Reincarnated, dood.
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baby1111007
- Dragon Rider
- Posts: 878
- Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 9:33 pm
- Location: cooking up a storm in the kitchens
"Yeah! Thata lass, Bella. You gots him right where ya wants him!" Robbie's voice rang out, causing Gregory to smile as they watched the fight. Each member of the crew was watching the friendly duel between Bella and Jean Paul, almost equally split in their loyalties. There was much ribbing and calls of encouragement to both as they circled in their dance. Each flurry of advances and retreats brought more yells and more laughter. "Show the lass what a real man be made of, lad!" That exclamation brought a scowl to Gregory's lips as he watched his daughter, a glint of pride in his eyes. She wasn't bad at all with that blade he had made for her, not bad at all. "Chop off the ole block, ehhh Robbie? Look at the form."
Bella wore the usual oversize white shirt, and pants that were about three sizes too long for her, the rolled cuffs hanging directly above her bare feet. The only thing even remotely feminine about her attire was the scarlet sash at her waist and the scarf that held her dark curls out of her eyes. However, her angelic face was all female, in spite of the smudges of dirt. She circled Jean-Paul carefully. He was almost two heads taller than she, with a longer reach. He was also quite a bit stronger. But she was fast and agile. It came down to a flurry of blows, and then their blades locked. Jean Paul grinned down at her smugly as he slowly began forcing the locked blades down in an attempt to disarm.
Bella was never one to admit defeat gracefully. She smiled up at him, her gaze all too knowing for her fifteen years. "Jean Paul" her voice was pitched low, deceptively sweet. "Your fly is open." Predictably, the young man looked down, just in time to meet Bella's left fist connecting solidly with his jaw. Connor Flynn, the helmsman, shook his head, a small smile creasing his normally serious face. 'Our lass fights dirty!." While Jean Paul was still stunned by the blow, the lass moved forward in a showy display of movements that made her father grin. Within moments she had her blade to the youth's throat. "Yield to me Jean Paul."
Jean Paul glared at the girl as he pushed her blade away from his neck. "Never did fight fair" he muttered to the amusement of the rest of the crew. Conor watched as the crew cheered around Bella, standing far to the side as was his norm. His dark skin was weatherbeaten, making him look older than his twenty five years. His serious nature and no nonsense demeanor made him somewhat alien from the rest of the crew, but had quickly earned him Gregory's trust. As the crew celebrated he did his usual thing, he watched. He watched the look on Jean Paul's face each time a toast was raised in Bella's name. He watched as some of the more superstitious of the crew muttered about their omens of bad luck and comforted the young man. And he watched as Isabella said her goonights as the crew became rowdier and the songs got more risque. And he was the only one who noticed Jean Paul's furtive glances as the young man followed Isabella below decks.
"Oh hells bells." Connor gazed over to where Gregory sat with Robbie, noticing that both the men were well into their cups. He rubbed his hand over his bald head, frowning. Then he got up to follow Jean Paul. He was not long in the corridor when he heard the muffled whimper. "Goddamned curr, why couldn't I have been wrong for once?" The sight he saw sent him completely in a rage. The young man had Isabella pinned against the wall, his greater weight ensuring the lass couldn't move. He noted Jean Paul was smart enough to have wedged both his legs between the lass' own to avoid being kicked. One hand tangled painfully in her hair as he tried to force a kiss on her, the other hand was fumbling at the sash tied around her waist. But it was the muttered phrase that sent him over the edge. " I am going ta show ya where a wench like you belongs, flat on her back."
Connor strode over to the struggling pair and gently tapped the young man on the shoulder. As he turned, Jean Paul found his chin meeting a fist for the second time this evening, although this one packed a lot more punch. Connor had him by the shirt and each punch he administered to the youngster was punctuated by a soft word. "How do you like someone bigger beating on you.?" Seeing the boys' battered face he hesitated then lowered his fist as he glared down on the youngster. "Ya scurvy curr, I dinna care how much she skinned ya pride, I catch ya even thinkin of what ya were plannin tonight, I will see that wee thing ya seem ta want ta show Bella so badly cut off and used fer fishin bait." He gave the lad one more massive punch, knocking him out cold before turning to face Isabella.
Isabella looked at her father's helmsman, her huge dark eyes filled with tears that she tried hard not to shed. When she saw Connor turn to face her, she turned her face quickly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Connor's normally cold blue eyes held a begrudging admiration for the little sprite and he shook his head before he spoke. "You ok, runt?" his voice as gruff as always. Bella nodded as she watched him with guarded eyes. He had always treated her with a gruff politeness, but didn't tease her or spoil her like the rest of the crew. "He ...he caught me by surprise, that be all. I would have given him what for." Connor looked at her small face, the stubborn glint in her eyes almost making him smile in spite of the gravity of the situation. "You're welcome, runt. Now lets go tell your da what happened."
Bella's face fell at those words, emotions flashing like quicksilver in her expressive eyes. Fear, shame, pride. Connor wasn't really surprised at all by her words. " Do we have ta, Connor? We tell Da, and Da will hang him...ya know it. And it is kinda my fault. I know he hates ta be shown up by me, I shouldna messed with his pride like that....please Connor, I dinna want the rest of the crew ta know he got the best of me." Connor shook his head and rubbed his hand over his bald pate once again. "Damned females, always have ta make a easy situation hard, " he muttered softly. But has he looked into her angelic face he found himself softening slightly. "Ok, runt. We will keep this between ourselves for now." He pointed one finger at her, almost tapping her nose. "But you runt, ya be careful around this curr. Ya have his emotions so in a tangle he dinna know if he should hoist his arse or scratch his sail." Connor turned, slinging Jean Paul's unconscious form over one massive shoulder. "Can't wait to hear what tall tale he weaves to explain this in the mornin." He turned to Bella and left her with one final admonishing thought. "And runt, try ta stay outa trouble? Give a man grey hairs ya do." Bella's pert little voice piped out behind him, her laughter ringing out. "Good thing ya dinna have to worry about that, ehhh Connor?"
Bella wore the usual oversize white shirt, and pants that were about three sizes too long for her, the rolled cuffs hanging directly above her bare feet. The only thing even remotely feminine about her attire was the scarlet sash at her waist and the scarf that held her dark curls out of her eyes. However, her angelic face was all female, in spite of the smudges of dirt. She circled Jean-Paul carefully. He was almost two heads taller than she, with a longer reach. He was also quite a bit stronger. But she was fast and agile. It came down to a flurry of blows, and then their blades locked. Jean Paul grinned down at her smugly as he slowly began forcing the locked blades down in an attempt to disarm.
Bella was never one to admit defeat gracefully. She smiled up at him, her gaze all too knowing for her fifteen years. "Jean Paul" her voice was pitched low, deceptively sweet. "Your fly is open." Predictably, the young man looked down, just in time to meet Bella's left fist connecting solidly with his jaw. Connor Flynn, the helmsman, shook his head, a small smile creasing his normally serious face. 'Our lass fights dirty!." While Jean Paul was still stunned by the blow, the lass moved forward in a showy display of movements that made her father grin. Within moments she had her blade to the youth's throat. "Yield to me Jean Paul."
Jean Paul glared at the girl as he pushed her blade away from his neck. "Never did fight fair" he muttered to the amusement of the rest of the crew. Conor watched as the crew cheered around Bella, standing far to the side as was his norm. His dark skin was weatherbeaten, making him look older than his twenty five years. His serious nature and no nonsense demeanor made him somewhat alien from the rest of the crew, but had quickly earned him Gregory's trust. As the crew celebrated he did his usual thing, he watched. He watched the look on Jean Paul's face each time a toast was raised in Bella's name. He watched as some of the more superstitious of the crew muttered about their omens of bad luck and comforted the young man. And he watched as Isabella said her goonights as the crew became rowdier and the songs got more risque. And he was the only one who noticed Jean Paul's furtive glances as the young man followed Isabella below decks.
"Oh hells bells." Connor gazed over to where Gregory sat with Robbie, noticing that both the men were well into their cups. He rubbed his hand over his bald head, frowning. Then he got up to follow Jean Paul. He was not long in the corridor when he heard the muffled whimper. "Goddamned curr, why couldn't I have been wrong for once?" The sight he saw sent him completely in a rage. The young man had Isabella pinned against the wall, his greater weight ensuring the lass couldn't move. He noted Jean Paul was smart enough to have wedged both his legs between the lass' own to avoid being kicked. One hand tangled painfully in her hair as he tried to force a kiss on her, the other hand was fumbling at the sash tied around her waist. But it was the muttered phrase that sent him over the edge. " I am going ta show ya where a wench like you belongs, flat on her back."
Connor strode over to the struggling pair and gently tapped the young man on the shoulder. As he turned, Jean Paul found his chin meeting a fist for the second time this evening, although this one packed a lot more punch. Connor had him by the shirt and each punch he administered to the youngster was punctuated by a soft word. "How do you like someone bigger beating on you.?" Seeing the boys' battered face he hesitated then lowered his fist as he glared down on the youngster. "Ya scurvy curr, I dinna care how much she skinned ya pride, I catch ya even thinkin of what ya were plannin tonight, I will see that wee thing ya seem ta want ta show Bella so badly cut off and used fer fishin bait." He gave the lad one more massive punch, knocking him out cold before turning to face Isabella.
Isabella looked at her father's helmsman, her huge dark eyes filled with tears that she tried hard not to shed. When she saw Connor turn to face her, she turned her face quickly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Connor's normally cold blue eyes held a begrudging admiration for the little sprite and he shook his head before he spoke. "You ok, runt?" his voice as gruff as always. Bella nodded as she watched him with guarded eyes. He had always treated her with a gruff politeness, but didn't tease her or spoil her like the rest of the crew. "He ...he caught me by surprise, that be all. I would have given him what for." Connor looked at her small face, the stubborn glint in her eyes almost making him smile in spite of the gravity of the situation. "You're welcome, runt. Now lets go tell your da what happened."
Bella's face fell at those words, emotions flashing like quicksilver in her expressive eyes. Fear, shame, pride. Connor wasn't really surprised at all by her words. " Do we have ta, Connor? We tell Da, and Da will hang him...ya know it. And it is kinda my fault. I know he hates ta be shown up by me, I shouldna messed with his pride like that....please Connor, I dinna want the rest of the crew ta know he got the best of me." Connor shook his head and rubbed his hand over his bald pate once again. "Damned females, always have ta make a easy situation hard, " he muttered softly. But has he looked into her angelic face he found himself softening slightly. "Ok, runt. We will keep this between ourselves for now." He pointed one finger at her, almost tapping her nose. "But you runt, ya be careful around this curr. Ya have his emotions so in a tangle he dinna know if he should hoist his arse or scratch his sail." Connor turned, slinging Jean Paul's unconscious form over one massive shoulder. "Can't wait to hear what tall tale he weaves to explain this in the mornin." He turned to Bella and left her with one final admonishing thought. "And runt, try ta stay outa trouble? Give a man grey hairs ya do." Bella's pert little voice piped out behind him, her laughter ringing out. "Good thing ya dinna have to worry about that, ehhh Connor?"
.-------------------
Reina Lianacia Mellan, Musae Magister of the Ordo Magica
Tahl'Nae Rhaz
Cynthia Ashallows , Moonsinger
Yaassima
Isabella Quick
Reina Lianacia Mellan, Musae Magister of the Ordo Magica
Tahl'Nae Rhaz
Cynthia Ashallows , Moonsinger
Yaassima
Isabella Quick
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Sin G'Elle
- Commoner
- Posts: 25
- Joined: Mon Oct 02, 2006 12:18 pm