DEAD MAN'S TAVERN II

[Ice Mage]

*Anger flowed over Roses eyes, at the mere sight of Daemon in that uniform, and wearing that sword.  The knowledge of the influence that rune blade has over its wielder, motivated her to leap at him with her sword drawn.  If it were not for Dorean grabbing her arm once again, she probably would have skewered him from end to end. 

Pulling her back, Dorean shook his head no.*

[Wait!] Dorean said in a hushed tone.

*Rose sat back down and glared at Dorean.  Daemon looked over at Rose.*

"No Milady, Don't get up." Daemon motioned for her to sit.  "No need to get up on my account."

*The Captain put his violin down, and walked to his end of the Table.*

=Good evening Sir!  I do hope you attire is a sign of things to come.=

*Daemon nodded in approval, and moved to sit next to Rose.  Rose leaned over and whispered in his ear.*

'What the hell are you thinking?  If it hasn't taken control of you by now, you know it will.  And what's with the armor?  I mean you do look good in it, but never mind that.  We are here to save our son, not join him.'

*Daemon waved her off, and looked into her eyes.*

"Trust me; I know what I am doing!  Besides, you are one to talk."

*Rose's jaw dropped.*

'Excuse Me?"

"Just trust me please!"

*Rose sat back in frustration and started brooding.  The Captain called everyone to the table, and soon the large banquet table was filled to the brim.  Servants were standing behind the Officers, waiting to refill glasses at a moments notice.  Once everyone was seated comfortably, the Captain called for attention by tapping on his glass of wine.*

=Well there we are.  I do hope that we have met your needs in every way possible.  And I truly welcome you to my table.  I believe introductions are necessary.  Now my officers are well aware of you, but let me bring you up to speed on them.=

*The Captain went ahead and introduced his officers; finishing up with his personal Chef, who was at that moment brining in the feast.  A great variety of foods, apparently tailored to the specific tastes.  Everything from the most exquisite salted pork, to Italian pastas.  A great roasted turkey adorned the center of the table, with a platter of full of legs along side.  Smoked ham, braised chicken, broiled beef, fruits, vegetables, breads, deserts, and a crown roast littered the entire length of the giant table.  After a brief prayer the captain raised his glass for a toast.*

=Let me officially welcome you properly to my vessel.  We are a simple crew, and I hope that during our short voyage we can set right a relationship that should have started better.  Now please eat drink and be merry, and we shall discuss business once we have partaken of this fine meal.=

*The crew and their illustrious guests began to eat, although White Rose was a bit reluctant at first.  They discussed stories of home, and traded great sea shanties.  The Captain told a few wonderful anecdotes about some of the greatest British admirals.  All the while, the trio of prisoners remained respectfully quiet.  They ate and listened, and when it came time for coffee and brandy, the conversation took a serious turn.*

=Look, this has been a delightful evening.  Unfortunately there is a matter of importance that needs to be addressed. =

*The trio stopped what they were doing, and looked up at the Captain.*

=In our infirmary is your lies your daughter milady.=

*Rose's face went cold, and she jumped up.*

'Where is she?  I want to see her!  Give her to me now!'

*Her eye's turned red, and she muttered an incantation.  A giant Voidwalker (Risen Spirit) appeared and started tearing apart everyone that got in her way.  The Captain jumped up and started trying to calm things down.*

=Please Milady stop, we will take you to her!  Please stop your beast, I'll take you myself!=

*Pulling her sword from the chest of a guard, she muttered another incantation, and the Voidwalker disappeared.  Guards lay dead and bleeding across the Cabin, and the officers stand between Rose and the Captain.*

'Take me now!'

[Elinor Hakebourne]

"Do you have to do that right away?" Julian asked as she readied her supplies to interview her shipmates. "Time stretches before you now that they're on board!" He called, which made her pause in her preparation. "I suppose," She said carefully. "My fingers still do not grip my quill fast enough to take dictation, anyway..." She mused, glancing at him. "What did you have in mind instead?"

[lilaney]

"Oy! We gots this er now, missy. Git down afor ye bloomers be mistaken fer a flag!"
The Old Tar hollered up to Lil who was at the topmost sail, a good ocean breeze took the sails and was making the El Lobo dance across the tops of the waves at a swift clip, the wind had also grabbed hold of Lil's hair and it was now everywhere about her face.
It had grown out nicely since oh so long ago when it was burnt the night they aquired the Knight Hammer.
Almost to her shoulders, the stuff was still brown. Lil had hoped it might grow in another color.
Ah, well, wishful thinking.
"Aye, Old Tar!! And what be yer bloomers mistaken fer!? A flag warnin' o the Plague!!?"
Lil remarks drew laughs from the line monkeys nearby and one good barrell laugh from the Tar in question before he shouted a half-hearted curse at her and she descended to the main deck.
Her landing was not gracefull, in fact, she slipped on the deck and landed on a pile of neatly coiled line topknot over toe-shoes.
Much to the Salts around her's entertainment.
A bit embarrised she was hoisted out of the line by a gent who called her 'Jack' and she was sent on her way with a pat on the shoulder.

"I'm hungry" she thought and headed to the Galley.
Sea Air always did bring out an appetite in her.

The passageway from the maindeck to the galley had several doors that led off of it.
A couple led to store rooms and belowdeck berthings.
Lil's berthing she shared with the other ladies, and Brigg's stateroom were the doors on the Left, straight ahead was the kitchens and Galley, to the right there was a passageway that led to the Surgery, the Barber-Surgeon's quarters, and the Captain's Stateroom.

As she stepped into the passageway's dim light, there was an eerie silence about it that was completely opposite of how it was not two hours ago.
Lil's interests were piqued when she heard femanine laughter and froze in her shoes.
Her curiosity was burning to discover the source, but, her manners kept her in check.
Who ever was laughing must have been having a really good time.
She tried the latch of her berthing as she passed, and found it locked.
'Kate must be asleep' Lil thought as she continued on.
But, she then heard quiet scuffling from within, pausing at the door, she pressed her ear to the wood.
Inwardly she laughed for joy with her friend, and outwardly she held a smirk as she began again down the passageway, making a right instead of going straight.
"Bugger food, I need a good laugh me'self."
She muttered as she shifted her course, and plan of attack.

[Welsh Wench]

Wench left Kate to get some rest and went up to the quarterdeck. She glanced out over the water and saw two ships following them. Her body stiffened but she heard a voice behind her say, "Not to worry, Captain Bright. It's Daggett's men following to pick him up in Sangraal."
Wench looked out over the ocean and her eyes took on a faraway look.
Softly, she said, "Did you know, Josiah, that Sangraal is from the words 'Sang Real'?"
"What of it, Honour?"
She folded her arms across the gunwale. "Sang Real. Sang is the Latin word for 'blood'. Real becomes grail.  The Grail was the cup that Christ drank out of at the Last Supper. And it caught his blood as he was executed.  Joseph of Arimathea supposedly brought the Grail to Glastonbury Abbey. But did you know that the Grail ws actually a Welsh legend?"
"Honour, I know you are Welsh....but really!"
"Briggs, would you like a little lesson in legends?"
He laughed. "Why not?"

Honour smiled, "We Welsh revel in our stories. The bards told tales and they are passed down. These were the stories Nanny Greyson used to tell me.
Rhiannon, the Celtic goddess of the moon was a Welsh goddess. In her myths, Rhiannon was promised in marriage to an older man she found repugnant. Can you blame her, Briggs? Marrying an older man?"
Briggs shrugged, "Sometimes it is the only way, Honour."
She grew defiant and said, "No. It is the way that is convenient for a father who wants to be rid of his child."
"Calm down, Honour. Don't take it so personally. I mean, Jack isn't THAT old."
She retorted, "I'm not talking about Jack. I am talking about Rhiannon. The goddess Rhiannon. Let me finish the story."
"Alright, I won't interrupt."

"Rhiannon chose the mortal Prince Pwyll as her future husband. She appeared to Pwyll one afternoon while he stood with his companions on a great grass-covered mound in the deep forest surrounding his castle. These mounds, called Tors, were thought to be magical places, perhaps covering the entrance to the otherworld beneath the earth.  It was thought that those who stood upon them would become enchanted, so most people avoided them. 

So it is no surprise that the young prince was enchanted by the vision of the beautiful young goddess Rhiannon, who was dressed in glittering gold as she galloped by on her powerful white horse.  Rhiannon rode by without sparing him even a glance. Pwyll was intrigued and enraptured, and his companions were understandably concerned. 

Ignoring the protest of his friends, Pwyll sent his servant off riding his swiftest horse to catch her and asked her to return to meet the prince.  But the servant soon returned and reported that she rode so swiftly that it seemed her horse's feet scarcely touched the ground and that he could not even follow her to learn where she went.

The next day, ignoring his friends' advice, Pwyll returned alone to the mound and, once more, the Celtic goddess appeared.  Mounted on his horse, Pwyll pursued her but could not overtake her. Although his horse ran even faster than Rhiannon's, the distance between them always remained the same.  Finally, after his horse began to tremble with exhaustion, he stopped and called out for her to wait.   And Rhiannon did. 

When Pwyll drew close she teased him gently, telling him that it would have been much kinder to his horse had he simply called out instead of chasing her. Rhiannon then let him know that she had come to find him, seeking his love.

Pwyll welcomed this for the very sight of this beautiful Celtic goddess had tugged at his heart, and he reached for her reins to guide her to his kingdom.  But Rhiannon smiled tenderly and shook her head, telling him that they must wait a year and that then she would marry him.  In the next moment, Rhiannon simply disappeared from him into the deep forest.

Rhiannon returned one year later, dressed as before, to greet Pwyll on the Tor. He was accompanied by a troop of his own men, as befitted a prince on his wedding day. Speaking no words, Rhiannon turned her horse and gestured for the men to follow her into the tangled woods.  Although fearful, they complied.  As they rode the trees suddenly parted before them, clearing a path, then closing in behind them when they passed. 

Soon they entered a clearing and were joined by a flock of small songbirds that swooped playfully in the air around Rhiannon's head.  At the sound of their beautiful caroling all fear and worry suddenly left the men.  Before long they arrived at her father's palace, a stunning site that was surrounded by a lake.  The castle, unlike any they had ever seen, was built not of wood or stone, but of silvery crystal. It spires soared into the heavens.

After the wedding a great feast was held to celebrate the marriage of the goddess.  Rhiannon's family and people were both welcoming and merry, but a quarrel broke out at the festivities.  It was said that the man she'd once been promised to marry was making a scene, arguing that she should not be allowed to marry outside her own people. 

Rhiannon slipped away from her husband's side to deal with the situation as discreetly as she could. Using a bit of magic, she turned the persistent suitor into a badger and caught him in a bag which she tied close and threw into the lake.  Unfortunately, he managed to escape and later returned to cause great havoc in Rhiannon's life.

The next day Rhiannon left with Pwyll and his men to go to Wales as his princess.  When they emerged from the forest and the trees closed behind them, Rhiannon took a moment to glance lovingly behind her.  She knew that the entrance to the fairy kingdom was now closed and that she could never return to her childhood home.  But she didn't pause for long and seemed to have no regret.

Two full years had passed without her becoming pregnant with an heir to the throne, the question of her bloodline, her fitness to be queen began to be raised. 

Fortunately, in the next year she delivered a fine and healthy son.  And this baby was said to be Peredur, who ended up with the Holy Grail."

[Welsh Wench]

"A myth to be sure, Honour."
She sighed. "I know, Briggs. There is no fairy kingdom."
"Aye, but Jack swept ye away, like that Pwyll did to Rhiannon."

She sighed.  "True. But sometimes old men can return and ruin the most beautiful thing in your life. Or so you thought."
Briggs said, "Rhiannon. Unusual name. Very Welsh. I heard about a Welsh woman named Rhiannon."
Honour looked out over the water and murmured, "It's a common Welsh name."
Briggs struck his match and lit his pipe. "But this one was no goddess."
"What was she, a tavern wench? A doxy?"
He took a deep puff on his pipe. "No, this one was a murderess."
Honour felt her blood run cold. "A---a murderess?"
Briggs leaned agains the gunwale. "Ah, now who is ready for a story, Honour? Care to hear the tale?"
She nodded wordlessly. Briggs grinned.

"Jack and I were in Jamaica a few years ago. Two men came in. Travelers. Jack engaged them in conversation. On account of no one but pirates ever came into The Jamaican Rose. Anyways, they said they were hired to look for a young woman. She disappeared after killing her husband. A fortune in jewelry, money and heirlooms was gone. A price was on her head. Jack and I talked about it afterwards. We wondered if that was the name of the woman that Rhys Morgan was involved with and he died for the crime of loving her."
Honour said in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "Did--did you and Jack ever find out her name?"
"Castlemaine. Lady Rhiannon Castlemaine. Jack thought it was odd."
"Why so?"
"Because the plantation Jack left for you to buy was bought out from under you to a person with the name Castlemaine. Can't remember the initials."
Wench's head began to swim. Lies. Lies. And more lies still. She told so many she was beginning to get confused.
There was only one thing left to do.

Go back to Wales and pick up Zara. Let Lady Rhiannon Conaway Castlemaine die a quiet death and never become her. Ever again. She looked back over the ocean, her heart racing and her breath coming quickly.
"Briggs, after Sangraal, where is Jack planning on heading?"
"I believe it is El Dorado, Honour. Why?"
She turned from the gunwale to look at Briggs. Her voice was shaky and he saw a touch of desperation in her eyes.
"Wales."
"What, Honour?"
"Wales."
"What about it?"
"We have to go. We have to go NOW."
"Are you out of your mind, girl?"
"Not any more. I've wasted too much time already. Time I will never, ever get back. And if Jack won't take me, I am leaving this ship at Sangraal and I will book passage to Beaumaris. I've left her far too long as it is!"

[Hibernian]

Brother Timothy could stand it no longer, he had been sitting here staring at the chest from St. Dimas long enough, time to act. A quick sign of the cross, a look heavenward, and a soft shrug of the shoulders as if to say here goes nothing, his fingers slowly reached out and gently touched the gold of the small chest. No shocks, no bolt of lightning from the sky, no sudden swarm of locust just the cool feel of the gold as he work his hand around and examine the chest from every aspect. "So far so good."

He leaned ever closer so as to examine the fine detail of the metalwork, this was the work of a master. In addition to the fine craftsmanship of the gold work, he also appreciated that each of the cut stones across the chest's lid were exactly what they appeared to be, the finest collection of gems this side of the crown jewels of England and France. Wonder what our dear Captains will say when they see these beauties?

Forcing himself to breath, the monk turned the small gold chest so the latch now faced forward. Simple latch, should be no problem, he'll just open it and see what's inside. Should be a relic, but what kind of relic? He expected he would have to share the value of the chest with the crew, but the relic belong to the Church and would remain with him. That would not be open for discusson.

Past experience told him that many relics were body parts of the saints, but many of these must be frauds as counting all of the fingers of St. Peter he has seen over the years the man must have had six hands! But one never knows, He who is above us all works in strange ways. "Just please, not another finger, something exciting would be nice."

As the chest opens, light illuminates the interior to reveal what appears to be a rolled up parchment and something wrapped in leather. Picking up the leather bound object, it was just the right size to fit in the palm of his hand, he began unwrapping it.

Suddenly the light in the cabin began to fade! No wait, the light wasn't fading, there was a growing darkness in the cabin, a darkness emitting from the chest, a darkness slowly filling the cabin that was also moving toward the monk as he step back away from it. In two steps he felt the wall at his back, and the darkness still advancing toward him.

"Oh great, I asked for exciting not life threatening. Ahoy the watch!"

[Blackjack Roberts]

Wench turned and headed below for her and Mad jack's cabin. Still thinking about the daughter she had left home so long ago she could be forgiven for failing to hear the boots coming up behind her.

"Thinking 'a jumpin' ship, Luv?"

The captain of the Knight Hammer started and whirled about so fast she nearly tumbled over. Only the close walls below deck and the firm grasp of Blackjack's hand on her arm saved her behind from colliding with another floor for the umpteenth time.

"Steady, Captain." Jack grinned, releasing her arm once he was sure she wouldn't topple over. "Didn't mean ta startle ya."

"You didn't. It's these cheap heels all the boot makers seem to be using now days." The pretty blonde smiled the embarrassed grin of one taken unawares. "To answer your question, I have pressing business back there and I'm not sure it can wait any longer."

"More pressing than regaining your ship from my idiot cousin?" Roberts dropped the pirate act.

Wench's sparkling blue eyes widened. "Your what?!"

"Aye, Lass." Blackjack's grin turned wistful. "Cade is mine, and Malcolm's cousin. He always was a bit more impulsive than was good for him."

"Is there anyone I know that your not related to, Jack?"  Wench asked, one hand on her hip and a half smile, half frown on her lips.

"I couldn't rightly say, Luv. Who do you know?" Roberts grinned roguishly, one eyebrow raised.

Now Wench was certain of it. Although Blackjack bared little resemblance to Malcolm the relationship to Cade Jennings was unmistakable. Blackjack, however seemed more mature and a bit darker than she remembered her former lover to be. While it was true Jennings could be too impulsive, something Mad Jack had tried to cure in him when he was Cade's mentor, the theft of the Knight Hammer proved that he had not been entirely successful in that endeavor. Worse still. How would Jack react to find that not only was Blackjack related to a man he had come to hate, but Malcolm as well?!!

Her head spun with the implications. It seemed that the more she tried to unravel the twisted web fate had wound about her the more tangled it became. Another secret she would have to keep from Jack Wolfe, another thread to complicate an already too complicated life. Perhaps Gwydion was right after all, it seemed that she had nothing but trouble since she had stolen that book.

"So, Lass. Ye headed for merry old England, or not?" Blackjack asked again. "Because if you are I'll have to take more than a few precautions."

"Why?" Wench asked. "Malcolm isn't hunting for you now."

"True, but that doesn't mean the rest of England has forgiven, nor forgotten me." Roberts sighed. "Before certain events forced me to leave England I was probably the best known highwayman since "Swift Nick" Nevison himself. That could make things a bit sticky if we head for home."

Before Wench could answer they both heard the raised voice of Brother Timothy, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"If I remember my Latin, that sounded like either a benediction, or the beginning of an exorcism!" Blackjack's eyes widened as a feeling of dread clamped his heart.

[Martin Montgomery]

 Martin stood stock still as all able hands leaped to their appointed tasks and the "Lobo" answered with the grace of a seaborn dolphin,her bow cutting a clean path through the waves far past the shelter of La Ville du Traitre's harbor. The big man felt a deep throbbing from the knife wound in his thigh and the wetness he felt inside his precious new boot could only mean trouble! Rough hands clenched tightly upon the rail as the pain dulled slightly and the weakness that had almost overcome him past. "Ouch!" he muttered under his breath as he probed the hole in his trousers and felt gingerly for the wound itself,his sausage sized finger tenderly measuring it's length and breadth. "I am afraid ,Martin, this warrants a visit to Good Doctor Gander's Surgery for a tiny bit of attention!" The large man had observed Lilaney swarm up the ratlines to pitch in with the mainsail and ,though he'd come to appreciate her skill as a Doctor and ,yes, admire her friendship,loyalty,trustworthiness and ..........form,he thought that his wound might require........a less intriguing form to work on him. Less.......trouble to deal with afterwards,so to speak. "SHIPS AHOY!" Gordy shouted down to the deck. "WE'RE BEING FOLLOWED, MATES!" BLOODY HELL!!!! The epitaph crossed his lips without a thought as,when he turned towards the aft gunwale and caught sight of two tiny dots several leagues behind them,his leg gave a spasm that had him gritting his teeth to keep from screaming!! The next clear thought that he had was relief doubled,firstly the pain subsided to a more bearable level and second he heard Briggs on the Quarterdeck above his position call out the two ships were friends of Daggett's and to stand down the guncrews but keep up the speed of the ship. Martin raised his sweaty face to the sky and saw a flash of color,Lil's skirts,as she labored in the Tops,calling back and forth with the line monkeys in good humor. "Best get these old bones ***Whoa****!!!!!!!!" He sat heavily on a neat pile of line coiled nearby and covered his eyes with his hastily snatched  beret. "I suppose that means I've lost a lot more blood than I had realized." He whispered as he noticed the trail of red that led back to the opening in the rails where the gangplank had been,then down to the slowly growing puddle between his boots. Taking several deep breaths he felt his head clear slightly so he heaved his bulk up and back to the rail. Holding to it with fading strength,Martin lost his beret to a gust of wind and almost followed it over the rail when he freed one hand to recover it! "My day is getting worse by the minute!!!" He thought as his eyes followed threadbare headcovering as it seemed to dance on the crest of a wave momentarily,it's golden horsehead pin twinkled in the sun's bright rays before it sank from sight beneath the frothing water. "Oh! Goodbye my sweet!" The whisper was so soft that he did not know if he'd actually voiced it His mind whipping back to the happy day he'd placed the pin upon his beret's band,and the woman who had gifted it to him. She had been Very Important to him even though they had only a short time together,they parted friends but the heat of their passions had cooled and both knew it was for the best. A single tear appeared from his right eye,traveling his weathered cheek to disappear into his thick goatee. The pain of his wounded thigh paled, momentarily overcomer by the pain of losing her gift,his oversized heart ached with the loss of yet another piece of his unrecoverable past. " Time moves us all forward!! My best wishes go out to you ,my sweet! I pray that the one who holds you now,protects you better than I kept your Token!"  With that said the cook lurched unsteadily to the hatch leading belowdecks and down the companionway towards the Galley at the end. Off to the left were the First Mate's "new" cabin and the slightly larger one shared by Elinor,Kate and Lilaney,turning to the left he followed the passage that led to the Captain's Cabin,the Doctor's cabin and Gander's Barber/Surgery. Leaning heavily on the bulkhead beside the door,Martin slammed his fist against the wooden panels almost falling when it was jerked open on the third swing!! "What the Devil is going on out here ?!?!?" Gander's ire was evident on his red face as he stood tall,and yelled into the big cook's chest "Don't you realize that there are people in here trying to recover before the next disaster hits.....**MARTIN**!?!?!?WHAT'S WRONG?!!?"  Crossing the threshhold and sitting as gently as possible on the unoccupied table,Martin grimaced then showed the flustered medical man his blood covered right hand "They got me in a most tender area Doctor and I cannot see the wound myself. I would be deeply grateful if you would be so kind as to share your medical opinion ***** "Shut up Martin, you're babbling!! Now tell me,How did this happen and Where is your wound?" Gander might have been dwarfed by his patient but he had handled worse,under enemy fire as he recalled with a rakish grin and soon Martin's story and wound both were revealed. "I don't like the fact that your wound is still seeping Martin. Where is the blade that caused this wound?" Taking a sharp breath the cook stated through clenched teeth "It's out on deck or at the bottom of that blasted harbor,WHY!??! Skilled fingers felt around the outer edges of the wound as the cook lay face down on the table. Martin had threatened bodily harm when the Doctor stated he would need to cut off his right boot to remove the blood soaked trousers,so he had done the next best thing. The tough cloth of the trousers had parted under the skillfully wielded scalpel,and the lighter cotton of the drawers fairly melted away,remnants of both were folded back to reveal the cooks wound and the boot was still bloody yet unhurt. "Martin I am afraid that the tip of that blade is still in your ....rump,and I can't stitch you up while it's there! Your wound could get infected and you could lose the leg or die!" Sweat streamed down the cook's face as he turned to look at Gander "Well?" He said "You're the Doctor! Get  it out!!"  "Martin, I may have to cut the wound larger,my fingers are too big to get in there!" And that is when the two heard light footsteps outside the Surgery door...........

[lilaney]

With both hands, Lil gently pushed the surgery's door open.
"Drake, you weren't in your stateroom, so I assumed you were checking on paitents.."
Lil's words died away at the sight of the blood.

She stood motionless on the lintel as she absorbed the sight before her.
Several desperate seconds ticked by as, owl-eyed, she took in the situation.
"Martin?" She whispered, her heart sank to her knees.

Duckie had looked up at the sound of his given name and watched Lil's emotions cross her face.
He knew what she would have to do, and he wasn't squeamish of asking it of her.
"Need your help over here."
Lil shook our of her reverie at the sound of his voice, focusing on him, she saw his hands covered in her friend's blood.
A mental shield went up around the raw emotion for her friend and her proffesional self stepped in.
"What happened?"
Duckie began explaining and as Lil washed her hands in carbide solution she had an achy feeling of what he was asking her.
"I am afraid they nicked the Popliteal artery on the intial upward slice and thanks to Martin's tough hide, the knife tip might be lodged in the muscle near the Femoral. Tricky, and although I have the knowledge to keep him from bleeding out, I do not have the nimble fingers get at the blade end and keep his blood pressure stable."
Lil found her surgery apron and silently came to stand by the Dr.
"So, team effort?"
Duckie nodded gravely as Martin watched soberly from his prone position on the table.
Lil couldn't help it, she gently squeezed her friend's hand and gave a reassuring smile.
"Know what any of that means?" Martin blinked slowly, Lil noticed how white his face was.
Duckie handed Lil an ether-soaked rag.
"Just place that under his nose, that will help him."
Internally Lil knew that Duckie was trying to knock Martin out, she also knew that arterial wounds would eventually stop bleeding if enough pressure was applied. What she didn't know was, could she actually find the knife tip, keep from acidentally slicing his main artery and keep him from bleeding out?
Smiling gently, Lil placed the rag near Martin's face, and watched as his eyes slowly closed as his breathing slowed.
"He's as out as he is going to get."
Duckie nodded solemly and worked the wound open a bit more.
"I'll talk you through it, just remember. Don't hit any nerves and do not put any pressure on the metal once you've found it."
Duckie and Lil's eyes met for an instant and she knew.
She was not alone, and her friend would survive.

It took Lil only three minutes of feeling around to find the knife point. With her index and middle finger she grasped the metal, which felt only as long as a baby's fingernail, and slowly brought it to the surface and into the light.
Duckie was right next to her, he had switched from talking her through the removal procedure, to telling her history of medicine while applying as much pressure as he could on the wounded artery without cutting off circulation.
She felt like throwing the offensive piece of steel into the ocean as hard as she could fling it.
But, she knew Martin would want to see. So, pitching into the bowl nearest her, she cleaned her hands, as well as the wound and began stitching.
After the adrenalin wore off and Lil saw her friend sleeping, she changed places with the doctor to apply the pressure. Arterial wounds always took so long to clot.
Duckie shook his hands to return feeling to the fingers.
"Tough one, he is, he'll make it. But, I think the back of his legs from the rump to the knee might be numb for a few days, until the shock wears off."
Lil nodded as her muscled tightened to push pressure firmly on the back of Martin's leg.
"So, he is out of commision for a few days? I think even Gordie might come down to bring him flowers."
"I don't want whatever Gordie thinks are 'flowers' in this Surgery."
Duckie and Lil shared a laugh as Martin began to shift as he came around.
"Bloody hell" he moaned softly.
Duckie bent down and stared eye level at the Cook.
"You made it, but, you are not going anywhere for a few days. Please for the love of your life, don't move or all the good work we just did will be for nothing. You are still clotting and that takes time."
Martin groaned, turned his head and passed out, peaceful in the knowledge that he would indeed wake up again.

[lilaney]

Lil dusted her hands in satisfaction.
"Not bad for a morning's work." She said in triumph.
Martin would survive, that was worth more than a battle royale.
Duckie chuckled inwardly at the gleam of victory in Lil's eye.
"I would have to agree. Well done."
Lil cocked her head at Duckie, something in his smile made her heart change beat.
She blinked and shrugged off the sensation, he was simply elated that he had saved
someone, just as she had.
"Thanks, Doc."
She meant for the reply to come out boastful, but, it came out a couple of degrees below that and a bit to the left.
His eyes held a spark that made the room feel suddenly warm.
"You are welcome."
Lil was entranced, the doc slowly moved towards her.
The world around her dispersed as his eyes became her world.
And as suddenly as it happened, it went just as fast.

A hardy thump hit the side of the ship and broke the two out of their reverie.
"Thank God for that!"
The one lone paitent, who was still laying in the corner smirked at his care providers.
"Thought I would have to throw a bucket on you two!"

Lil gave a shaky cough and stepped back from Drake, who somehow was within arms length now; found the door with her hand, fumbled with the latch, tripped over the lintel, shot a quick glance at the sleeping form of Martin, and departed like the scared bunny she was.

"I truly, utterly, and with my whole being despide adrenalin!" She muttered as she high-taled it to the Galley, she suddenly had an aching hunger for chocolate, and wanted as much physical distance as she could muster.

Martin's men were in the kitchen, stirring something that smelled lovely. Both anxious for news of their master's health.
Lil assured them, he was fine and would be back on his feet by the next port of call.
"But, what about meals until then?"
Lil looked around the kitchen, aside from washing dishes, nothing in the place held any recognition in her brain.
Maybe, Elinor knew how you turned all these metal tools, a pile of goods, and a fire into meals.
She smiled a wonderous grin at the two sailors. And with a flourished curtsey she made the hair on the two men's necks stand on end.
"That will be no trouble at all, the ladies of the Knight Hammer, at your service! Purveyors of the pantry, mistresses of meals and overall general cooks ready to serve the El Lobo."

[Hibernian]

"Smelly and dark and getting bigger by the moment, this can not be good. Brother, time to beat a hasty retreat and exit the room." A quick jump up followed by a bounce across the bed brought the cabin door within reach. Yet spreading even quicker the dark smoke quickly covered the door forcing the monk back across the bed.

Another quick move in the opposite direction, this time toward the window until once again the dark smoke countered his move and the monk once again withdrew to a safe distance. "Dam, can't go left or right..."

"Dam...you do not know the true meaning of that word...what would you know of being dammed" The voice that cut him off seemed to come from the middle of the black cloud that had been slowly filling the cabin.
"Who is this? Where are you?" His back firmly planted against the cabin wall the monk shouted out his challenges all the while looking about for anything that might be of use to improve his situation.

"Once I was Gestas, some call me Dumachus, most do not know my name, just that I am dammed. What do you know of dammed that you use the word so freely?" Perhaps it was wishing thinking, or his eyes were off, after all he wasn't a young man anymore; that voice was coming from the cloud and the cloud was getting a bit smaller and looked to be taking on a more solid shape.

Brother Timothy heard voices and running feet in the hall, his friends were coming, gotta stall, gotta think of something. The cloud appearred almost solid, dam I wish I had my kit. How in the name of all thats holy do I stall a cloud? Now what did it call itself? Good Lord, look at me talking with a rain cloud in a woman's cabin, "Gestas, Gestas who are you?"

"I am one of three, I am the one left upon the hill, I am he who was dammed."
"What?" I asked a simple enough question and now I'm getting riddles. Obviously this thing is a spirit, a demon, keep in the chest but why and even more important to the moment how?

As the cloud grew smaller and more dense the Knight Hammer's cleric could now see the top of the Wench's dresser. Scattered with cans and bottles it didn't offer up much in the way of help. His eyes continued to scan the room for an opening of escape all the while trying to figure out his next move. Although the dark shape was smaller it was now moving closer toward the monk.

"Time to think Timothy me boyo, how did that prayer go, oh I hate Latin I can never conjugate correctly, lets see...Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde....in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti...ut descedas ab hoc plasmate Dei...I need a name, who's being pocessed, oh no, wrong exorcise prayer, its not working!" Quickly moving to his right the monk stayed just out of reach with the cabin window at his back but the darkness remained between him and freedom through the cabin door. "Hello, need a little help in here!"

As he blessed himself out of reflect he was reminded of the small leather bound object clutched in his right hand. It had come from the chest, must be important. With one eye on the slowly creeping darkness he opened the leather wrapping to reveal a metal cross, bounded to the center was a small piece of wood, with an inscription. As he held the cross aloft the sunlight from the window cast a shadow upon the darkness with an interesting effect.

[lilaney]

A shiver passed over Lil as the ship felt as if it was cast over by a dark cloud.
She did not smell rain on the wind, so she pondered the sensation.
"I wonder if this is a calm before a storm"
Lil was not usually keen on 'feeling' the weather before it came upon a ship, so she was in part thrilled and in part frightened by her feelings.
In her usual manner of ignoring what she did not understand she doggedly continued in her task.
With a handwritten book of Martin's being held open by the largest cleaver she could find she glanced again at the recipe.
"2 eggs, alright. Where are eggs kept on a ship?"
Having the two kitchen staff trying to assist her had annoyed her so much that she had thrown a knife at one and a bowl at the other, they had fled for safer ground and now Lil felt the comfort of being alone as she struggled to learn this new skill.
She rummaged around, which in turn made a bigger mess of the cabinets and pantry, and she could not find any eggs.
"Hmm.. well what are eggs used for anyway? Maybe I could cheat a bit and use a paste of water and flour, that might work."
Lil smiled at her brilliant stroke of creativity.
~~~~1 hour later~~~~

Martin's head felt heavy and groggy as he pried his eyes apart.
Duckie was sitting at the desk in the Surgery soundlessly tapping his finger on parchment as he wrote in a log book. He looked up as the Cook began to shift.
"I wouldn't shift overmuch, my lad." Duckie stated to Martin.
"It would ruin all we have done for you."
Martin sighed and tried, without moving, to get to a more restive position.
"Apologies, Doc, I had a nightmare; a demon had overthrown my kitchen and was tearing the place apart, and no matter what I did, I could not stop it."
Duckie had gotten up by then and come to Martin's side to check him. The doc was impressed at how quickly his paitent was recovering. He inwardly admired his Captain's wife on her choice of crew.
"It was probably the ether, old man. Stuff's been known to muddle the mind."
Martin lifted his head and sniffed the air.
"What's that burning smell?"

Back in the Galley, Lil was completely flustered. And it did not seem anything was going well.
The two boys watched from the doorframe, desperate to come to the aid of the provisions, but, Lil had barred the way and was not allowing them to come near the chaos.
Suddenly, the Galley door banged open.

[Welsh Wench]

"Duckie? May I come in?"
Wench stuck her head in the door. Duckie looked up from his log book.
"Of course, Honour."
She smiled to herself. Only three people on El Lobo called her Honour. Briggs, Duckie and Jack. 'The Unholy Trinty', Wench referred to them as. But then, they both were there when Wench had married Jack in a sudden fit. Or fever.
She snapped herself out of her reverie and looked at Martin's sleeping form. Quietly, she said, "One of the crewmen told me that Martin had been hurt. Is he alright?"
"He will be if he lies still. A blade point stuck in his bum. Nicked an artery. Lilaney helped me. Actually, I helped her. She bravely dug the tip out of his wound and then together we stitched him up and put pressure on the artery until it clotted."
Wench felt her eyes fill with tears as she looked at her unselfish friend lying sound asleep.
"First time I've ever seen Martin lie quiet. He will be alright, yes?"
"He will if he doesn't move around and his wound heals."
Wench adjusted the cover on Martin. "See that he gets whatever---WHATEVER--it takes to make him comfortable. You are sure he will be alright?"
Duckie nodded. "Yes, Honour. If he follows my instructions then he will be alright."
She put her hand on the doorknob and turned to him. "Thank goodness. Good cooks are hard to find. But good friends are even harder."
She opened the door to walk out when Duckie said quietly, "What do you know about Lilaney, Honour?"
She stopped suddenly and turned to face him.
"She's a good friend. Loyal."
"Where is she from?"
Wench shrugged. "Where all of us are from, Duckie. Nowhere in particular. And if she is, she isn't sharing with the rest of us. We all have secrets. Some more than others."
She closed the door to the infirmary.
Duckie sat there, nibbling on the end of the quill.
'All in due time, Lilaney. I'll ferret out your secrets. And the biggest one being, 'Where did you get your medical training?' '
He sighed deeply and then continued to write in his log book.

[Hibernian]

As the reflected beam of sunlight, now in the shape of the crucifix held in Brother Timothy's hand, struck the demon squarely in the middle a loud unearthly howl filled the cabin. Despite the pain in his ears, realizing that anything that was bad for the demon was most likely good for him, the monk attempted to keep the beam of light focused directly in the middle of the darkness. This was and would have continued to work well, until the deck shifted slightly and the ship began to turn.

His eyes quickly looked to the window and the sea beyond, the horizon was moving, the ship was changing directions.
"Oh oh, this is not a good time for a course correction." As the pirate ship steadied on its new heading the beam of light that was keeping the demon at bay was lost. The howling ceased, "This is not good, Timmy you really are in trouble this time."

The monk's eyes never left the darkness as he slowly backed away angeling toward the window. He believed his only hope lay in getting to the window and catching a new beam of light. Unfortunately the demon also realized this and moved even faster blocking the window with his dark mass. The window covered the demon slowly began to advance forward.

No slow backing up this time, hiking his robe Brother Timothy quickly turned and jumped up on the bed! Jumping up and down he was able to reach the ceiling and each time struck it solidly with the flat of his hand. Shouting aloud all the time. "Hello! Anyone!  We have company! Bad company! Help!"

Just before the darkness swallowed the bed, a quick hop and Brother Timothy found himself sitting on the floor with a bruised bum and his back against the dresser. A not quite proper but true to the situation prayer of "Oh God, what now?" was answered in his mind by two words, "talk...wash"

"Talk and Wash? Lord I'm facing a demon here, not getting ready for a pleasant dinner companion. I don't suppose you could be a little more helpful in your suggestions?  How about a sign then, maybe a bolt of lightning or even better the sword of St. Michael!" No bolt or sword materialized as Brother Timothy slowly stood up to face the demon.

"Demon, in His name I command you to halt and leave this ship."
"You can not command me, I am Gestas, I am one of the three upon the hill, I am he who is forgotten no more!"
"Then I name you Gestas, tell me plainly who you are."
No answer was given as the dark cloud moved toward the monk who reacted instinctively by raising his right hand, which happen to be the one holding the crucifx... 
"In His name and by His cross you will answer!"
The darkness did not advance any closer but it did begin to grow in size.

Just at that moment a voice could be heard outside the cabin's door, "Brother Timothy! Are you alright in there?"
"A little help if you don't mind!"

[Elinor Hakebourne]

It seemed that now wasn't the time for Duckie to sit and write in his log book in silence for long. A few moments after Wench left the infirmary, Elinor came bounding towards the infirmary door, as quickly as her small strides could take her. Julian was in tow, his face pained that she would interrupt their previous activities for any reason at all. Shortly before she came to the infirmary's entrance, she wheeled around and put her finger to her lips. "You wanted us to be...friends, Julian? Well, here comes the friend part. I need to see Martin --alone-- so I would appreciate it if you ran along and...just ran along."

"But--"

"No buts, Julian. He's a dear friend of mine, and I'm already ashamed enough that I wasn't there to help him in his time of need."

Reluctantly, Julian followed her request, walking in the opposite direction and soon out of sight. Elinor took a deep breath, attempted to get the intense flush out of her cheeks to no avail, opened the door, and stuck her head in. "Dr. Gander?"

"Yes?" She heard from the other side of the door.

"I heard about Martin. Would I be able to see him?" She asked, loud enough for him to hear, but gentle enough that it wouldn't wake Martin if he were sleeping.

"Yes, but please make it quick. He needs peace and quiet," came the reply, and Elinor, breathing a sigh of relief, opened the door further and stepped into the infirmary, immediately going over to her friend. "Martin," She breathed, observing his wounds. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to aid you like you've been there for me," She whispered softly, putting her hand out gently to rest upon his for a brief moment, as she didn't wish to wake him. Dr. Gander was right, he did need rest, and she would not begrudge him that. Perhaps I can sing him a song when he awakes, She thought, and that cheered her a little. "Sleep well, Martin." Giving Duckie a little smile and nod in acknowledgement of the favor he did her by letting her see her friend, she left the infirmary, closing the door softly behind her.