Princess Rosella of Daventry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
primrosella) wrote2010-06-13 03:34 pm
primrosella) wrote2010-06-13 03:34 pm
Entry tags:
- affected,
- behold my mad skills,
- curse: under the sea,
- i love my friends,
- it turned into a ballroom blitz,
- la femme rosella,
- nineteen and loving it,
- not that kind of girl kthx,
- not traumatized yay!,
- oblivious rosella is oblivious,
- pirate tales,
- so farfetched it's gotta be true,
- swash swash buckle buckle,
- what is this i don't even,
- yar har fiddle dee dee
Quest 194
ENTRY: From th' Top-Secret Journal o' Morgan the Lurch
13 June, 18—
Made port this mornin'. Much as me heart lies on th' open sea, 'tis a welcome change t' spend a spell on dry land again. Especially after that last catastrophe th' Barnacle got us all into. We barely escaped by th' skin o' our teeth, an' thar t'ain't much o' that left, what wi' all th' use we be givin' it.
Th' tavern smells like th' inside o' th' boot No-Foot Seamus (formerly One-Foot Seamus) lost t' th' shark a fortnight ago. Th' swabbies be ugly an' th' rum tastes like whale sweat, but we`re nay here fer th' berths or th' companionship. Word tell be that th' fabled booty o' El Pollo Diablo lies somewhere around these parts, an' th' cap'n has sworn on all th' dubloon in th' hold that we'll be th' first t' claim 't.
Fortunately, th' map managed t' survive th' trip wi' minimal wear an' tear, despite th' better efforts o' Percy the Jinx. Ye can hardly e'en be seein' th' remains o' th' whale spit. Now we jus' be havin' t' get our bearings an' find th' startin' point at Crag Rock. 't ortin't be too hard; th' rock be spake t' glow under th' light o' th' moon. But wi' this crew, one nereknows. Some o' them would jus' as soon go chasin' mermaids t' Davy Jones' Locker as they would go chasin' booty.
Th' cap'n has called us t' order. I be havin' nay time t' write more.
M.
--------------
[Open Action]
The scene: an average day of business in the dank interior of the Flaming Walrus Tavern. Seated around a rough wooden table littered with the deep scars of knife marks and dark splotches of condensation from ale mugs, there sit three unusual characters--two men and a woman. All are fitted out in the standard attire of the seafaring lot. One wears a fine scarlet coat with gold braid and an elaborate hat with feather; and if his clothing did not mark him as the captain, his bearing as he addresses the other two would clearly indicate him as such. The other two have the less elaborate attire of crew members, but they too are dressed better than the average sea rat. Both wear bandanas tied over their hair: red for the man, black for the woman. And all three look as though they have seen their fair share of adventures on the high seas.
Curiously, though, the three figures appear to be ignoring their mugs of grog, and are instead hunched over a tattered piece of parchment that may well be a map, pointing at various locations and chattering at each other in hushed tones. If one listens closely, however, one might overhear a few murmurs of conversation, spoken slightly louder and slightly sharper than the rest:
"...th' last job..."
"...say about ever speaking o' that again?!"
"...three weeks to get th' barnacles out!"
"...up and look for Crag Rock, ye landlubbin'..."
Do ye dare approach and disturb them, ye scurvy dogs?
[OOC: Sobbity sob this is crack at its finest. Say hello to Peg-Fist Jack, Leonard the Barnacle, and Morgan the Lurch, three of the most notorious pirates to ever sail the City Seas. Perhaps you've seen their wanted posters around the City? That's quite a reward offered for their capture--though beware, as these swashbucklin' scalawags have no intention of being apprehended today.
By all means, feel free to join in on the shenanigans. Play along, try to join the crew, aid them in their search for the Fabled Treasure of El Pollo Diablo...the sky's the limit! Open action for anyone who wants it, and Network for people who want to exchange correspondence with Morgan the Lurch--though, Leonard the Barnacle and Peg-Fist Jack may very well chime in themselves. Who knows?]
13 June, 18—
Made port this mornin'. Much as me heart lies on th' open sea, 'tis a welcome change t' spend a spell on dry land again. Especially after that last catastrophe th' Barnacle got us all into. We barely escaped by th' skin o' our teeth, an' thar t'ain't much o' that left, what wi' all th' use we be givin' it.
Th' tavern smells like th' inside o' th' boot No-Foot Seamus (formerly One-Foot Seamus) lost t' th' shark a fortnight ago. Th' swabbies be ugly an' th' rum tastes like whale sweat, but we`re nay here fer th' berths or th' companionship. Word tell be that th' fabled booty o' El Pollo Diablo lies somewhere around these parts, an' th' cap'n has sworn on all th' dubloon in th' hold that we'll be th' first t' claim 't.
Fortunately, th' map managed t' survive th' trip wi' minimal wear an' tear, despite th' better efforts o' Percy the Jinx. Ye can hardly e'en be seein' th' remains o' th' whale spit. Now we jus' be havin' t' get our bearings an' find th' startin' point at Crag Rock. 't ortin't be too hard; th' rock be spake t' glow under th' light o' th' moon. But wi' this crew, one nereknows. Some o' them would jus' as soon go chasin' mermaids t' Davy Jones' Locker as they would go chasin' booty.
Th' cap'n has called us t' order. I be havin' nay time t' write more.
M.
--------------
[Open Action]
The scene: an average day of business in the dank interior of the Flaming Walrus Tavern. Seated around a rough wooden table littered with the deep scars of knife marks and dark splotches of condensation from ale mugs, there sit three unusual characters--two men and a woman. All are fitted out in the standard attire of the seafaring lot. One wears a fine scarlet coat with gold braid and an elaborate hat with feather; and if his clothing did not mark him as the captain, his bearing as he addresses the other two would clearly indicate him as such. The other two have the less elaborate attire of crew members, but they too are dressed better than the average sea rat. Both wear bandanas tied over their hair: red for the man, black for the woman. And all three look as though they have seen their fair share of adventures on the high seas.
Curiously, though, the three figures appear to be ignoring their mugs of grog, and are instead hunched over a tattered piece of parchment that may well be a map, pointing at various locations and chattering at each other in hushed tones. If one listens closely, however, one might overhear a few murmurs of conversation, spoken slightly louder and slightly sharper than the rest:
"...th' last job..."
"...say about ever speaking o' that again?!"
"...three weeks to get th' barnacles out!"
"...up and look for Crag Rock, ye landlubbin'..."
Do ye dare approach and disturb them, ye scurvy dogs?
[OOC: Sobbity sob this is crack at its finest. Say hello to Peg-Fist Jack, Leonard the Barnacle, and Morgan the Lurch, three of the most notorious pirates to ever sail the City Seas. Perhaps you've seen their wanted posters around the City? That's quite a reward offered for their capture--though beware, as these swashbucklin' scalawags have no intention of being apprehended today.
By all means, feel free to join in on the shenanigans. Play along, try to join the crew, aid them in their search for the Fabled Treasure of El Pollo Diablo...the sky's the limit! Open action for anyone who wants it, and Network for people who want to exchange correspondence with Morgan the Lurch--though, Leonard the Barnacle and Peg-Fist Jack may very well chime in themselves. Who knows?]