DEAD MAN'S TAVERN II

[Hibernian]

They were taking a beating and he was afraid things were just heating up. It was time to make a stand, he only hoped it was not the last one. An age old prayer said slowly and deliberately over the water, the water then poured carefully upon the relic cross and with a practiced motion the water was sprayed upon the darkness. "I name thee evil one and in His Name cast you back to the dark abyss from whence you came!"

One would have thought the water would have as little effect upon the dark swirling mass as Lilaney's stars or Jack's whip yet somehow wherever the water passed the air cleared, if just for a moment. Unlike the obvious weapons the blessed water appearred to hurt the evil one and it responded in kind. A section of the darkness although vaporous in appearance was solid enough to swing around forcefully sending the monk flying through the air and crashing into the far bulkhead.

"Oh, that was not what I was hoping for Brother." Robert's eyes darted between watching the monk and hoping he was going to get up and trying to keep a good angle between the evil one and his companions.

"You fools, the power you face is greater than you can ever imagine, the girl will be mine..." Whether due to the influence of the voice or some other dark  power, everyone in the cabin felt the evil to their very core, a foreboding feeling that only increased as the darkness approach the two woman in the cabin corner.

Wench had been sitting quietly in the corner attempting to count the remaining brownies and divide them into equal piles in order to share with her friends. In their haste to pull Elinore from danger, Lil and Roberts had deposited her in the middle of Wench's brownie hills. Thinking Elinore had come to play, Wench was confused when her friend failed to respond.

"Elley, Elley belly. hey Elinore, this is your captain speaking, time to wake up I have chocolate to share. Something wrong, Hey something's wrong with Elinore  she won't wake up. Ow, what's that on your head, hey who hurt my Elinore. No one allow to hurt my crew, my friends." The adrenaline rush brought on by her concern for the youngest of her crew brought the Welsh Wench back to the surface just as the voice of evil made its desires known.

Slowly the maid of Wales, trained in the old ways by the druids, her eyes aglow stood and walked to stand between  Roberts and Lil and joining the wall between the darkness and the fallen friend.

Black Jack wasn't sure what was happening, it was Wench but not as he had ever seen her before, the look in her eyes was of another world. Her mouth was moving but the words were barely audible.

Across the room a crash of wood announced the return of the crew's cleric. Rolling to his knees and then upright, the relic cross and water still in hand he moved forward with a limp and a prayer.

"I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness,
Of the Creator of Creation..."

[lilaney]

'Oh, this is gonna hurt!'
Lil felt the power in the room, useless to do anything but stand and be a pawn; she squeezed her eyes shut and slipped an arm around her Captain's waist, and held fast to her side, no one was getting by them.
Instinctually, she knew to leave Wench's hands free, if she should need them.

Lil felt awful from the inside out, ever regretful evil that had ever been done to her came shining back in one fell swoop.
Her father's betrayal, her mother's abandonment, her sister's at the brothel, everything. She felt she was drowning, or going mad.
If something didn't happen soon, she was going to end up on the floor right next to Elinore.
'Hopefully, if I plan it right, I could fall face first into those brownies'
Whatever thoughts she had left were engulfed in darkness as the actions around her began...

[Welsh Wench]

Wench suddenly threw her hat down and yelled, "OK you blighted fog! It's just you and me. You think you can best me? Doubtful! I took on Gwydion, I took on Jonas Corwin. I ran Daemon Vardus through and I parked a 300' ship! I SUNK THE AZURE TOOLED AND THE CRUDE ORGAN DONOR, DAMN IT! You--YOU--have never come across me! And you know why I can best you? Because I am not only Captain Honour Bright, I am also Mrs. Jack Wolfe, wife of the most fearsome pirate in the whole of the Caribbean! So what do you say to that?"

The fog emanated, "I had Gwydion's soul a long time ago. And he had promised to deliver me a new disciple by the full moon all those many years ago. But she escaped. Escaped with a book that had ultimately been written by me. And now I have come to collect what was promised. And if I can't have you, I'll take the young girl."

Wench drew herself up and unsheathed her rapier. She walked towards the entity with a measured gait, one foot in front of the other in a carefully synchronized strut. She was practiced and she was cool. In a controlled voice, she said, "No one is leaving this room. Nothing you can do can hurt me. I have been hurt by the best."

Lil whispered, "Who was he, Wench?"
She said in a clear voice. "Captain Jack Wolfe. I had the most horrific experience with him."
Elinor whispered, "Your wedding night was that bad?

Wench said evenly, "No. It was awful. He hurt me in the worst way possible."
The essence stopped.
She then whispered to the force, "YOU try pushing Briggs through a port hole window! Because that is what pushing a baby out is like!"

[Hibernian]

It started as a low rumble that those in the room felt long before they heard it. A light touch, a slight tickle as when a fly lands on one's arm, slowly the hairs on the skin raise up as the feeling slowly ascends to the brain and awareness. The low rumble deepens into a bass and the tremor fills everyone in the room.

Wench's face remains composed and neutral but her step falters and she comes to a stop. Sword raised reactively in defense against what she is not certain. Her eyes widen trying to take in the entire room at once trying to leave nothing to chance. 

'Calm down, center your thoughts, remember the lessons, don't do something hasty and add to your troubles.' O gods of heaven and earth what have we gotten into this time, can we truly win this one?  This thing speaks as if Gwydion were a mere pupil, truth be told I barely beat that pupil on my own how can I match his master?

The laughter once again fills the cabin, the sound echoing off the walls, the mortal eyes squint with heads' cocked to the side, breath sharply inhaled and held as the companions struggle to keep their gaze upon the enemy and fight their way through the pain in their heads.
Even Elinore, unconscious in the corner begins to moan and thrash about in what could be her only response to the pain. Somehow knowing that Wench no longer needs her, or perhaps the needs of Elinore are greater, Lilaney quickly move to the corner to protect the young scribe from further injuries.

"Honour Bright,  Mistress Jack Wolfe, Welsh Wench, Featherhead, Maid of the Bay, and how many others are you known by, you have so many names, so many lives, and yet no secrets from me. I see you, I know who you are, I know what you are and that you can not hope to defeat me and live."

"Yet it doesn't have to be, lay aside your cares, stop your running, protect your friends. Be the Captain you were always meant to be, protect your crew and friends, do what is needed."

Both the laughter in the cabin and the Wench's forward movement had stopped at the same time. While neither he nor Blackjack could hear anything, Brother Timothy was willing to bet an evening worth of rosaries that somehow the two were interacting and judging by the look in her eyes, Wench was losing. Without a word his eyes sought and found Jack, words were not necessary as to his intent and Jack nodded in response.

"There is no need to do otherwise, with just a word all would be well and you will find the peace you so wish, the peace you so deserve. The family you so want, a husband to love and a daughter to raise..."

A sudden breath filled her lungs, falling back a step as her head with eyes blinking from tears raise up to look dead into the middle of the darkness. The power of one word brought one picture to her mind freeing her.

"No! Now I understand and you shall not have her, even if I must die you shall not have Zara!"

From the corner where she sat, Elinore's head on her lap, Lilaney watched in hope and wonder as her three friends suddenly and without a word attacked the darkness as one.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack paced about the great cabin with growing impatience, wondering what could be keeping Honour.  He was a bit baffled as to how she could be ahead of him in a narrow companionway one moment and gone the next.  El Lobo was a large ship, but hardly labyrinthine.  As he pondered this, he heard a strange commotion followed by an odd, increasing rumble.  Experience told him that if anything strange or odd involving a commotion was going on, Honour was usually in the middle of it.  He grabbed the pistol off his desk and shoved it into his belt, and set out to discover what was going on.

Jack got his answer, or a part of it, when he got to the door of Briggs's cabin, which Honour was in the process of vacating.  And uneasy feeling came over him, an almost sickening dread, when he heard Honour shout "... you shall not have Zara!"  Rage filled him, and and he burst into the room with pistol drawn.
"Who the hell dares to threaten my wife and child?!" he roared.

A bizarre scene was playing out before him.  Honour, Brother Timothy, and Roberts were about to square off with a roiling, rumbling column of inky black smoke.  Lil was cradling an unconscious Elinor in the corner.  Jack looked at the thing for a moment, then from face to face of those gathered in the room.  Finally he looked back to Honour.
"Another cooking experiment gone awry, darling?" he asked.
Honour let the tip of her rapier drop slowly.  "Your daughter?  What makes you think Zara is yours?"
Jack shifted uneasily.  "A wild guess?  Anyway, is this... thing threatening you?"
Angry realisation dawned in Honour's face.  "You bastard!  You went through my things, didn't you?  The night I caught you in here!"
"Um, well... maybe just a little.  Until I ran across the birth certificate.  Then I stopped."  He smiled until he realised just how lame that sounded.
Honour leaned on her sword, her fist on her hip.  "Damn you, Jack!  I'm surprised you didn't confront me about it then and there.  That's your usual style."
"I was not going to confront you.  Not on something as wonderful as that," he said.  "I wanted to discuss it civilly."

"I am so glad Blue crapped on you!" she snapped.  "What, were you expecting me to bring it up over dinner?  'Oh, by the way, you're a daddy.  Pass the asparagus'?"
"My hope was you'd volunteer it.  I was being patient."
"There's a first," she sniffed.
"Jack Wolfe, you are indeed the girl's father..." the entity gurgled.
Jack rolled his eyes.  "Yes, I knew that, you flatulent fog bank!  The whole room knew it!  Now butt out!"
"Yeah, and get off his side, Mister Helpful Smoke Thingy!" Honour fumed.
The entity made a couple of non-committal noises, and the intensity of the rumbling faded slightly.

"For God's sake, Jack and Wench!  Don't taunt it!" Brother Timothy implored.  "You don't know what you're dealing with!"
"It's a bloody stowaway, is what it is," answered Jack.  "And a smelly one at that."
Honour took her sword and whacked Jack across the back with the flat side of the blade.
"Ow!  What was that for?"
"How dare you go through my things?" she demanded.
"Oh, God, we're back to this?" he sighed.
"You're damned right we're back to this."
"Fine.  Would you have let me go through your things if I'd asked?"
"Of course not!" she laughed.
"See?" said Jack.  "My way saved us both a lot of time and effort.  Now, exactly when had you planned to tell me about our daughter?"
"Um... eventually?" Honour hedged.
"Honour Bright shorthand for 'never'."  He shook his head.  "Why did you hide her from me?"
"You weren't exactly sterling fatherhood material at the time," she explained.  "Look, can we talk about this some other time when we're not in front of the crew or some stinky, child-snatching smoke monster?"
The entity seemed to churn a little more vigorously now.  Evidently smoke monsters were uncomfortable around public domestic squabbles.  Either that, or it was just getting angry.  Hard to tell with smoke monsters.

"No, we're talking about this now," countered Jack.
"Oh, you are impossible!"  To punctuate her exasperation, Honour jammed the tip of her rapier into the deck.
"Hey!  Watch that!  Decking isn't cheap!" he yelped.
Honour pulled her rapier free, and an defiant look came into her eyes.  It didn't make conventional sense that she would choose this moment to start pushing Jack's buttons, especially with a demonic whatever hovering in the middle of the room.  But it made perfect married people sense.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword.  "What, this?" she asked innocently, as she jabbed the deck again with a thunk.
"Stop that!" he yelled.
THUNK.
"Oopsie!"
"I'll 'oopsie' you.."
THUNK. 
"Sorry.  Heavy sword."
"Damn it, Honour!"
THUNK THUNK. 
"I'm starting to get a rhythm!" she grinned.

The entity's rumble grew rapidly, and it spoke with a voice that to travel a great distance before the words could be heard.   "Both of you!  Be silent!" it demanded.  It sounded almost like the thing had the start of a tension headache, if smoke monsters got headaches.  Or heads.

Jack whirled and gave the entity a warning glare.  "I've about had it with you, you... whatever you are!  Now get this through your puffy little brains-"  He pulled himself up to full height, placing himself in between the thing and Honour.  "Get off my ship," he commanded slowly and deliberately, with a voice like ice.  "Go back to whatever dark little corner of Hell you crawled out of and leave us alone.  You're not getting my daughter or my wife, and you're going to have to get through me to even try."
A low menacing laugh emanated from the column of smoke.  "I'm going to enjoy crushing you like the pathetic little bug you are, Jack Wolfe."  The entity grew taller, and began to snake over toward Jack.
Suddenly, Jack found himself shoved backwards.  Not by the monster, but by his wife.  His beautiful, incredibly cheesed off wife.

"Now just a damned minute, you refugee from a camp fire!" she growled angrily.  "That's my husband you're talking about, and nobody, NOBODY gets to talk about him like that except for me!"
Jack put his hand on Honour's shoulder to pull her back from her nose-to-nose stance with the entity.  She whirled and put her finger in his face.
"You're next," she warned.  He put his hands up in front of him and backed away a few steps.
"He is nothing," the thing chuckled.
"Wrong again, Smoke Boy," Honour answered, with the fire of defiance blazing in her eyes.  "He may be ill mannered, stubborn, infuriating, and yeah, sometimes he doesn't bathe as often as I'd like..."
"Hey!" protested Jack.
"But that is Jack Wolfe," she continued.  "CAPTAIN Jack Wolfe.  The most fearsome pirate in the Caribbean.  A legend.  And he is my husband.  The father of my little girl.  And I'll be damned if you're going to come along and screw things up for me!"
She held her hand out at her side, and Jack's fingers entwined with hers.  They stood together as husband and wife before the malevolent force that had invaded their world.
"Now listen, and listen good," she continued, her voice strong and unyielding.  "You're in the Wolfe's den now, and you're not welcome here.  We will fight you, together.  And you will lose."

The entity boiled and churned, weaving its form back and forth like a snake cornered by a mongoose.  And then it did something no one in the room expected.

It backed away from the defiant couple.

[Blackjack Roberts]

Blackjack nodded imperceptibly to the monk. Whatever the thing was it was obvious that it could reach into the minds of it's prey, and like most vile things in the world it sought out what it perceived as weakness. Roberts felt his blood boil with rage, then something else.

Knowing that his parlor tricks were all but useless against an otherworldly creature he moved to pull his captain away from the entity, unwilling to render her unconscious, and hope the holy man had yet another ace up his wide sleeve.

Just as he prepared to make his move a strange sensatio0n began to flow through his chest, and limbs. Down within the confines of his billowing shirt a bright glow had again begun to envelop the jade charm. It's warm glow filling him with a calm strength he had only experienced once before in his life, the night he had miraculously saved the lives of Mi Lin and the children.

It distracted him for only a second, but long enough for him to hear Wench shout something about a child named Zara and for Mad Jack Wolfe to burst into the room with pistol drawn and murder in his eye.

"This has just gotten a lot more interesting." Roberts thought to himself as he made way for the Lobo's captain.

Trying to keep both the entity and Brother Timothy in his line of sight he glanced over to the monk with a quizzical look. Should they press their assault with both captains not more than a foot away from the noxious spirit. The brown robed man shrugged as the two captains of the pirate ship did what they did best......antagonize each other.

Though the exchange took less than a few moments, it left the renegade highwayman with more than a few puzzling questions. Things that could be sorted out later, if there were to be a later.

The tirade ended with the two standing almost nose to nose with the demon, a couple more concerned with the fate of their child than their own safety. A good sign to be sure, and Blackjack grinned in spite of himself. That was when he noticed something else. The blade of his cutlass was enveloped in the same bluish glow that he had thought he had seen encircling the amulet moments before. Just faint enough to make him doubt his own senses.

Brother Timothy caught his attention again and Roberts nodded his agreement. As one they moved, unnoticed to either side of the co-captains and the entity did the last thing any of them expected it to do. It backed away.

[Hibernian]

"Ha, back away you puff of smoke before I open a port hole and the trades blow you away! Here allow me to help." That said Mad Jack step forward drawing his blade and starting waving it around the demon in an intricate pattern, never quite making contact, but all the while forcing the demon backwards.

"Captain don't," but before Brother Timothy could finish his sentence Jack's cutlass sliced through the middle of the darkness. A more apt description would be that Captain Wolfe's cutlass started to slice through the demon's middle and stop dead in the middle. The suddenness drove the pirate captain to his knees and from that vantage point he watched his blade slowly melt away until only the basket hilt around his hand remained.
"Oh, bad form there, that was my favorite sword."

"There is no power in you, Captain you may be, yet you are but a man." Before the blink of eye Captain Mad Jack Wolfe found himself flying through the air to a forceful collision with the cabin door. Crumbled to the deck in front of the door, the body of the unconscious pirate ensured that no one would be entering or leaving the cabin until this matter was at a close.

"Jack!" She was half turned toward her love and the father of her child, all thoughts had left her except her concern for him. Go to him, care for him, protect him was all she could think.

"Rhiannon atal!" The familiar Welsh of her childhood, the commanding voice cut through to her and she hesitated and looked to the monk. His eyes look straight into hers as he spoke, "atal, amdiffyn." Yes she understood his words, stop and protect, yes she must stop and protect her loved one. He needed her and she turned toward Jack once again.

"Atal! Cydaddoli ni alltudio tywyll diafol! Cydaddoli amddiffyn" The voice was steady and strong, it cut through the emotions and commanded her attention. Oh Mother Goddess he is right, only together would they be able to make a stand and banish the demon.

Black Jack stood silently watching and listening, he recognized enough of the Welsh to know it was about the diafol or devil. Then he saw the Wench turn away from the door and Captain Wolfe, her hands clutched tightly into fists as if ready to strike the very gates of hell itself, her voice low as if she was trying very hard to keep control.

"Brother Timothy your Welsh is terrible, but you are right, it is time to end this once and for all."

Without waiting for a response she slowly moved away from the two men. Her eyes locked onto the demon as if nothing else matter. Black Jack didn't know what to make of it, he could see her mouth was moving but the voice was low, only the occasional word could be heard. It may have been his eyes but he could swear Wench's hands were beginning to glow.  Then her voice started getting louder and as it did the glow about her fists grew brighter.

"Brother we better do something now before the lady explodes!"
"Just another minute Jack, I need to concentrate or my Latin will be off!" His right hand raise the relic cross high while his left held the bottle of blessed water. The words came slowly but surely as his memories remember the studies of a life time. "Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde...I exorcise thee, every unclean spirit."

Glowing Captain to the right, monk to the left, highwayman stuck alone in the middle. What's a fella to do? It was then he hear the voice shouting his name.
"Jack, Jack!"
Looking to the heavens "I'm here but I'm almost afraid to ask who's there?"
"No you idiot, not up there, over here!"
Turning quickly toward the voice there was Lil, still in the corner with Elinor, "Right Lil, I knew it was you all the time."

"Jack you must hurry, Elinor needs more help and Captain Wolfe hasn't move yet, this needs to be finished now!"
"The management is open to suggestions."
"Use that glowing amulet again and do more than just make that thing stop and back up."

Dam if the girl wasn't right, the amulet was not only glowing but so was his sword.
His sword was totally enveloped by a glow, the glow from his amulet! No chanting or praying required, Jack now had a weapon!

Depending upon who is telling a tale, there are moments when an action occurs at just the right moment and it is credited to skill, planning, experienced, or even the workings of a higher power. Jack smiled at Lil, raise his sword and turn to attack the demon at exactly the same moment that the Welsh Wench released the full fury of the Mother Goddess's power from deep within her soul and Brother Timothy with holy water and Latin flying drove the relic cross into the darkness. Sometimes, as Jack would say, you just have to be lucky.

The three attacked as one, whenever the demon thought to recover from one the others were there to press the moment. Jack's sword flashed and every contact drove the demon to the right where the Wench's fury exploded as bolts of light and sound driving and exploding through the very heart of the demon darkness. When the demon turned to retreat, there stood the monk, the barrier of the holy water burning the dark mist away, his prayers shaking the very fabric of the demon's existence.

But this was no one sided battle, the demon was not without weapons and the three ship mates were showing the physical and mental trauma of the fight. Jack continued to slash and hack but a fair portion of the stains on the sword were his own, while the Wench turned paler with every bolt as her very being was drained to power the attack.

He knew they were not winning, at best they had battled the demon to a standstill, and his friends were faltering, after all they were only human. He had started this and the brother knew that in the end it was up to him to bring the cycle full.
"Oh God, I'm getting to old for this, I should be in a garden back at the Abbey teaching novices how to make mead and brew ale." A quick glance to heavens "just kidding Lord, I know what is expected of me and now is the time; I ask, I pray, for your love, your guidance and your protection."

Quickly marking himself with the sign of the cross and holding the relic cross tightly to his chest, Brother Timothy steps into the middle of the darkness.

"What the..."
"NO, don't...."
"Brother damm...."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Everyone in the cabin seemed to be frozen in place. And the cabin was very full of light, but I stepped into the middle of darkness, shouldn't everything be dark?

"Not when the demon has been vanquished."
Brother Timothy stood looking at a short dark man, could this be...
"Who do you think I am?  Whose cross do you clutch to your chest? The wood contained within the relic you hold came from my cross."
"St. Dimas?"
"You were perhaps expecting an archangel? Everyone always wants a tall blonde man with a sword, right"
"The thought did occur to me, after all we were fighting and it was a demon."
"That is true, but it was the demon of Gesmas with whom you fought, he who was one of three and shared Calvary, so it was my place to come to your aid."
"And now?"
"Your faith has saved you and your friends, your friends will survive, you will survive and continue upon your journey."
"But..."
"Look within the chest of St Dimas, there you will find your answer." The small man turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped and faced the monk, "and stay with that Welsh woman, she will lead you to that which you seek. Besides, the way trouble seeks her out she need all the friends she can get."

Brother Timothy found himself sitting on the floor in the middle of cabin.

[Blackjack Roberts]

Blackjack slashed at the demon with all the fury he could muster. Each time his cutlass struck home the blue glow surrounding the strange blade flashed brighter driving the howling supernatural being to one of the other three attacking it. Like some bizarre game of table tennis it bounced from the glowing Piratess, to the furious monk and back.

Any loose object in the cabin swirled through the air striking at the trio as the dark entity attempted to drive them back long enough for it to gather it's strength. Books, candle sticks, a sextant, cups, and various weapons rained on them like the debris from a hurricane.

Wench surrounded by golden light that seemed to concentrate in her eyes and hands took little notice as most all of the objects ricocheted away inches before touching her. Brother Timothy and Roberts ducked most of the flying implements while holding their ground, usually when the demon was more involved with one of the others.

Blackjack barely side stepped a dagger and took a slight nick on his thigh for his troubles. Various minor cuts and bruises around his body barely registered, he'd suffered worse in a good tavern fight. The only real pain he felt came from the inside of his forearms. A burning sensation he attributed to probably being struck by a candle or two while he was occupied with the rapidly diminishing spook.

"I ask, I pray, for your love, your guidance and your protection." The monk's words cut into Roberts' brain as surely as his glowing cutlass cut into the smoky body of the vile spirit. Risking a glance towards the holy man his blue green eyes flew wide as the monk made the sign of the cross, clutched the relic to his breast and strode right into the swirling mass of the demon!

"What the??" He exclaimed as he heard Wench shout "NO! Don't!"

"Brother!!!......Damn!!" Blackjack and Wench stood helpless. Neither daring to strike for fear of hitting their friend.

Suddenly the roiling shade howled with the sound of a doomed soul and vanished, leaving a stunned looking monk sitting on the deck where moments before it had been.

Blackjack and Wench rushed to the smiling clergyman's side, both dropping to one knee. "That were about as fool a stunt as I've seen, or did meself, Monk." Roberts grinned. "Are ye still in one piece?"

"I'll let you know after a few tankards of the Lord's brew, Jack." Brother Timothy grinned.

"Are you sure, your ok?!" Wench asked worriedly. "Where did that monster go?!"

"Back to Hell, where it belongs." Timothy smiled. "Now if one of you will kindly help a servant of the Lord to his feet.?"

Wench and Blackjack stood and held out one arm to either side of Brother Timothy, Jack wincing slightly as the priest grasped his forearm. A moan from the doorway brought Wench around and she rushed to Mad Jack's side, as the former highwayman surveyed the damage. The cabin looked as if a tornado had ripped through it.

"Dear God! What a mess!" Roberts whispered.

"I couldn't have put it better myself." Hibernian sighed.

Blackjack sheathed his no longer glowing cutlass, picked his caviler style hat up from the jumbled mess of the wrecked cabin, dusted it off and placed it back on his head. A moan from Elinor brought him striding across the room.

"How is she, Lil?" He reached out gently touching the bruise above the young scribe's temple where his hurled pistol had struck her.

"I think she'll be fine, but I need to get her back to the surgery to be certain." Lil returned, worry written in every word.

"No problem, Luv." Blackjack smiled as reassuringly as he could, noting that Wench was struggling to lift her husband from the floor. "Hold on a moment, and we'll be on our way."

Striding over to Wench he swung the captain of the Lobo's arm around his neck, then positioning him in a way that most of the unconscious man's weight was distributed across his shoulders, stood. "If'n ye'll help Lil with Elinor, Luv, I'll take the captain." He grinned.

Wench's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "Thank you, Jack." She smiled.

"No worries, M'lady. He's more'n earned it." Jack cocked one eyebrow as he grinned. "Besides, it leaves the cleanin' up 'a this mess fer the Monk."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Roberts!" Brother Timothy called after the quickly retreating pirate.

Duckie looked up from his conversation with Malcolm as Blackjack kicked the door to the surgery open. "We'll be need'n yer help here far more than that treacherous dog, Sawbones!" He shouted, half dragging Mad Jack through the doorway, Wench, Lil, and Elinor hot on his heels. As they deposited their respective charges on the cots he turned to his cousin with a grin and a wink.

"What the Hell happened to them and you?!" Duckie exclaimed. "You look like you've all been through a mutiny!"

"Sawbones," Blackjack sighed, "ye wouldn't believe it if'n we told ye!"

[lilaney]

Duckie got up from his desk chair and stretched, twisting this way and that, he relieved his spine of the tension that sitting for long periods brought on.
Having just finished his own personal logs he knew it was time to go and check on his paitent. Crossing the passageway from his stateroom to the Surgery, Drake was oblivious to the silence of the place.

He did not notice the lack of complaining from the Captains', the lack of cursing from his recalcitrant nursing assistant, or the scritch-scratching of the Scribe's quill.

His mind was for Martin.
He gathered his supplies and headed for the Galley, where he found Martin, quite white and with suspicious red stains on his leg.
Drake shook his head and meeting Martin's eye, he said no words as he helped Martin hobble back to the Surgery.
"Really Doc, I just got up to check the stove and I felt the stitching loosen."
Drake nodded consolingly.
"Be at ease, Martin, you have done nothing wrong. It is a tricky wound, that is all."
Drake knew it was much more than that, but, keeping the paitent calm was more important for the healing process than stating bald facts.
He assisted Martin onto the cot and placed pressure back on the wound.
"Have you see Lil anywhere?"
Martin cocked and eyebrow at the Doc
'Oh, it is Lil now is it?' he thought.
Martin shook his head.
"No, come to think of it, I have not seen any of the ships' ladies all afternoon."

Duckie looked up from his conversation with Malcolm as Blackjack kicked the door to the surgery open. "We'll be need'n yer help here far more than that treacherous dog, Sawbones!" He shouted, half dragging Mad Jack through the doorway, Wench, Lil, and Elinor hot on his heels. As they deposited their respective charges on the cots he turned to his cousin with a grin and a wink.

"What the Hell happened to them and you?!" Duckie exclaimed. "You look like you've all been through a mutiny!"

"Sawbones," Blackjack sighed, "ye wouldn't believe it if'n we told ye!"

Duckie looked into Lil's strained face. He had a strange feeling Jack was indeed right, nothing they would say would make the least bit of sense.
Blocking all that from his mind, he went straight to work.

Lil laid the dazed Elinor on the farthest cot from the others, Elinor needed dark and quiet for the moment.
Placing a cold cloth on the bruise on Elinor's head, Lil began her vigil next to her friend.
Oh, she would live all right. But, had the thing that injured the others hurt Elinor's mind as it had hurt Lil?
Lil shook from the emotional toll.
It was all right to be brave in the face of physical danger, but, this mental stuff was something she did not think she could ever recover from.

[lilaney]

"Mhmm.. mmMMM!!"
Elinor stirred violently, Lil kicked herself out of her pity pool and calmly held her friend down before she began thrashing.
"Elinor! Wake up, it's me, Lil. You're safe and sound."
Elinor ceased to struggle and opened her eyes, Lil felt her relax and assisted her with sitting up, wincing, Elinor put a finger to the side of her head.
"Oooh.. what happened?"
Lil looked at Elinor's eyes, they were not quite focusing in sync yet.
'Concussion' she thought, 'not good'.
"Well, you were just about to head over to the big grey baddie and we had to do something."

Her head felt like a lead weight bobbing in rough waters; All Elinor wanted to do was sleep.
The gentle rocking of the boat felt good, and her dreams were all fuzzy and warm.
"Thas good.." she slurred and leaned into Lil side, giving a comforting moan she begin to slide back out of conciousness.
"Elinor? Elinor! No good missy, you have to wake up now. Now is not the time for sleep. C'mon, get up!"
Lil felt a small panic, Concussions were tricky mischief, not enough sleep and one would never heal right, too much sleep and one never woke up.
She was hesitant in her movements but still gave Elinor a slight jostle that seemed to rouse her.
"Mmmh?" was Elinor's only response.
"Elinor, listen, that bump on your head, it gave you a concussion. You gotta wake up for a second all right? Then, I'll let you sleep until we reach the next port. Drake!"

The panicked cry hit Duckie right in the heart. His mind was still force-focused on Jack.
Steeling a glance over to the corner, he saw Lilaney sitting on the cot with an unconscious and very pale Elinor in her arms. He saw what Lil saw.
"Just a moment, and I'll be right there."
His voice was calmer than his mind.
"Mrs. Wolfe, could you please attend to your Mr. Wolfe? When he is ready, I believe his own bed will be the safest place for him to recover."
"Are you sure?" The worry in Wench's voice made him pause to smile.
"Oh, aye, he has dealt with heftier slings and arrows before. A couple of busted ribs, a bruised torso and a sour stomach did not stop him then, it certainly cannot stop him now. Although, if you can, take it easy on him for a while."
Duckie's barest whisper of a wink, reassured Wench as she stepped in closer to attend her husband.

Martin looked on with concern, he did not like the looks of things in the corner. Lil was panicked, which did not happen often.
"Think they'll be alright?" he asked Blackjack who seemed to be self medicating from the stores near Martin's cot.
Blackjack pulled the stopper out of a bottle with his teeth and generously pored some astringent on his arm. He barely blinked as the medicine bubbled and hissed as it cleaned the nasty cut.
"Oh, aye, Lil and Duckie will have her right in no time."
Blackjack was the best with the blank face, but, even he furrowed a brow at the corner for a moment, then poffered the jug at Martin.
"Care for a slug?"

"Duckie, I am not sure what to do. She has not quite healed from her last sojourn, and now that.. 'thing' hit her in the mind. I am just not sure what to do."
Lil could hear the panic and alarm in her voice and felt ashamed for it. But, she could not stop the panic from engulfing her.
Duckie placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and steered her face to look at him.
She paused in her ramblings as their eyes met.
"Firstly, we are not going to panic."
If ever a voice could break through the cloud of emotion that wound tightly around her mind, this was the one.
"Secondly, you can lay Elinor back down, she isn't going to break. Now, if you'll simply let her go.."
Drake focused his attention on unwinding Lil's arms from Elinor's body, which was a struggle, Lil had a firm grip on the girl.
"Lil let go."
His eyes never left hers.
But, she did not budge.
"Lil, LET go."
Duckie was fairly certain that Lil could not hear him.
Whatever had attacked these crewmates had certainly left its mark on them.
"LIL! Let GO!"
Lilaney blinked once and, finally, loosed her grip, enough that Duckie was able to arrange Elinor more comfortably on the cot.
"Will she be all right?"
Duckie took her vitals, and after a pause, nodded.
"She is asleep for now. Lilaney? What happened?"
Lil felt shame crawl up her skin, she could feel the heat in her cheeks.
"I..I.. I have to go..."
Lil ran out of the surgery.
Duckie watched her depart.
His calm face panned across the other people in the room.
"Well?", he looked at BlackJack, " I am certain now I would believe anything you have to tell me."

[Blackjack Roberts]

The several nicks, cuts, and bruises Blackjack had suffered during the battle with the demon stung and ached, but nothing like the burning fire on the inside of his forearms. Had he not known better, he would have sworn he had been branded in a torturer's cell, and he'd enough experience there to know.

After helping Duckie to settle Jack Wolfe as comfortable as they could, he strode over to where Martin lay, raising one burning forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow and hide the fact that as he passed Malcolm he mouthed the words, "Later. Be quite now." Malcolm Dagget nodded his head just enough to acknowledge the silent message.

Roberts had spent more than enough time tending his own many wounds during his time as a hunted man. He had learned from long talks with many a ships doctor on the various pirate ships he had signed on, and the healing arts of the Lin Qui as well. There were times when one simply could not afford to seek the aid of a physician.

Selecting a bottle of astringent he noticed Lil's worry over Elinore. "Think they'll be alright?" He asked Martin as he rolled up his left sleeve.

"Oh, aye, Lil and Duckie will have her right in no time." The gentile giant half rolled onto his side to get a better position for speaking. His eyes widened slightly as Jack poured the anti-infection solution on one of the angrier cuts. "You might want to do that to that burn as well, Blackjack."

Roberts glanced at the inside of his forearm. For a moment he once again refused to believe his senses. There, as if placed by a very intricate branding iron, was a perfectly etched image of lunging tiger. Roberts suspected instantly what he would find on his right arm. His brow furrowed for a moment, then he offered the open bottle to Martin as he shook the sleeve back into place. "Care for a slug?"

Martin grinned and shook his head. "I believe that is for external use only, Jack." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Be that as it may, Mate, Ye never know when......" Blackjack broke off the quip he had in mind as he noticed Duckie struggling with Lil.

Before he could offer to help the struggle was over and Duckie gently placed the young scribe's head back onto the pillow. Lil's face grew bright pink as she excused herself and fairly flew from the surgery.

Duckie took them all in, Wench tending Mad Jack, Martin propped on his elbows, Malcolm's eyes switching from one to the other. The Lobo's resident physician finally locking eyes with Blackjack. "Well?", I am certain now I would believe anything you have to tell me."

"That be dependin' on how practical a man ye be, Sawbones." Robert's tilted his head slightly to the left, falling into the pirate persona he used to keep things to himself. "If'n ya have no belief in things what go bump in the night, ye'll no doubt think me a liar of the first caliber."

"Drop it, Roberts!" Drake demanded. "You forget I know perfectly well you are somewhat educated and can speak perfectly well when you wish to! I need to know exactly what happened."

"Very well, Sawbones." Blackjack grinned like a cat that had just dined on the proverbial canary. "But, I've little doubt ya won't believe a word of it."

The former highwayman went on to explain how he had heard Brother Timothy shouting in the cabin and how with Lilaney's help they had broken down the door to find an evil supernatural entity. He described as much of the subsequent events, carefully leaving out Wench's magic, his own strange abilities, and the revelation of the co-captain's child.

"Then that fool monk dove headlong into the creature. The next thing any of us knew it had gone. I helped bring the captain here to you." Roberts shrugged as if the whole affair meant no more to him than a minor inconvenience. "That's about as much as I know, Mate."

Blackjack's turquoise eyes looked in Elinore's direction, and for a second softened. "You sure she'll be alright? I tried to keep the blow as soft as I could."

Gander looked up from deep thought as he tried to digest the incredible story. "Hmmmm? Oh, yes. She'll be fine as far as I can tell. You'd better let me look at some of those wounds you have, Jack."

Roberts immediately backed towards the open door away from the doctor, his hands held palm out in front of him. "I'd rather ye not, Sawbones. They be no more'n scratches and I've tended far worse in me time, if'n ya please. My guess is ye'd be far better served by tendin' ta the captains, and the rest ye have here."

"Some of those wounds could be more serious than you know, Jack." Duckie scowled.

"A tankard of rum, or two, and I'll be fine." Blackjack grinned wickedly just before he vanished out the door.

Returning to his quarters Blackjack all but ripped the sleeves of his buccaneer shirt off as he exposed the flesh of his forearms. Staring in disbelief his eyes shot from one to the other, but there was no denying it. Both arms had been branded on the inside. The left with an exact, though larger, copy of the tiger from the amulet. The right with the dragon.

"Bloody Hell, Jun Quon! Just what have ya gotten me into??!!"

[Elinor Hakebourne]

Remnants of the evil spirit that had appeared in the monk's cabin swirled around her mind, wrapping themselves around the pleasant thoughts that would have made Elinor sleep peacefully, resting from the concussion she'd received earlier. Though she lay still, her dreams were far from pleasant.

She wanted to fight back, but found she couldn't - or, at least, she couldn't fight back as strongly as she needed to. She was always the weak one of the crew, the one that wasn't able to defend herself adequately. No matter how much training she'd received from her crew mates, she'd never been able to escape the bad things that had befallen the crew.

I'm worthless...

That thought overcame the others in her mind.

Wait, She found herself thinking, That isn't right...I'm full of worth...I record the goings on of the ship's crew, and occasionally sing to make their hearts lighter! As her mind focused on that idea, a bright light appeared, which grew from a tiny pin prick to a ball of flowing, energetic luminosity that acted as a beacon for her mind. As the light grew, she found the darkness receding to the point where it released its hold upon her, at least for the moment. She relaxed into a peaceful sleep, only half-awakening for a few moments here and there during the next few hours.

After what seemed like a day long nap, she drowsily awoke, feeling an immense pain upon her head where Blackjack's pistol had hit her. She let out a groan, reaching up with her right hand to touch the spot that ached. "How did this happen?" She muttered to herself. Her mind groggily sifted through the memories of the past day, and she remembered Lil telling her about a concussion, and a 'big baddie.' "Remind me to have a talk with whoever lodged whatever at my head, not to do it ever again..." She mumbled.

Dr. Gander came over to her then, having noticed that she'd woken up from her less-than-restful nap. He held up his index and middle fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He asked, gazing into her eyes. "Two, Dr. Gander," Elinor mumbled. "I'm fine, just have a horrible headache," She told the doctor, attempting to sit up. "Is it just me, or is the room spinning a little? Since when did we get a spinning boat? Is this one of the improvements Wench had Captain Wolfe put in?" She asked, trying to stop her vision from spinning.

"Lay down, young scribe," Dr. Gander replied, his tone and expression half amused, half serious. "It's best if you just relax now. I'll try to find something for the pain, but this will be best cured by rest and time." Elinor attempted to nod, but then thought better of it. "I agree," She said instead, taking a slow, deep breath and letting it out slowly. Relaxing seemed like a plan... "Are the rest of them okay?" She asked, thinking of Lil, Wench, Brother Timothy, Blackjack and Captain Wolfe.

[Welsh Wench]

Wench laid a hand on Dr. Gander's arm.
"Duckie, are you sure I should take him to his cabin?"
He gave her arm a quick squeeze.
"It would be two less people getting in the way, Honour."
"Yes, but.....my crew. Our crew. They need us."
"Nonsense!" Duckie said briskly. "If you take care of Jack, then I can devote my attention to Elinor and Martin...and others."
His eyes strayed to where Lil had fled the room.
'He cares for her. More than he is willing to admit,' Wench thought.

She hesitated. Duckie took her arm and led her to a corner.
"Honour, I don't know what happened. But something phenomenal did. And I don't want an explanation now. But I will want one. I have a man with a burned arm and various contussions, Martin is bleeding again and needs watched carefully. Lil suffers from some sort of traumatic stress and Elinor has a concussion. And Lord knows where Brother Timothy is. I need you to take Jack out of here and give me the room I need. We can talk about what happened later. Can you do that for me?"

Wench nodded. Jack had sat up on the cot, holding his head in his hands.
"Oooh, Ducks, this hurts more than that tavern fight we were in back in Port Royal. The one where I got hit over the head with that bottle and then Monique..."
Duckie said quickly, "Jack, I think you had better be quiet and let it--YOU--rest. Honour? Do you need help?"
She grabbed Jack by the arm and pulled him to a standing position.
"Certainly not, Duckie. But Jack may need your services. Oh, I'd say in about an hour. He may need you to straighten out his nose after I punch his snooping lights out."
She turned to Jack and said sweetly, "Need any help, dear?"
He stood and wobbled. "Can I lean on you?"
"For support and not pleasure. Let's go. Duckie? I'll straighten Jack out and then I think we should all meet in the dining galley later this evening to discuss the incident."
"Incident?" Jack blurted out. "More like a catastrophe!"
Wench grabbed his arm and steadied him. "Now say goodbye to the nice people who brought you here."
Jack waved feebly, "Bye-bye."
"Can it, Jack. This won't save you."
She smiled grimly to the crew. "No matter what you hear, do not open the door."
As they were going down the hall, Jack was heard to say, "Can you kill a man and not leave any marks, Honour? Because if you can, I think I need to write a letter to my solicitor..."

Wench pulled the door open and led Jack through it.  He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.
Wench yelled, "What the HELL were you doing going through my private property?"
Jack winced and put his hands over his ears.
"You know, that was the one thing that I hated about you. Lord knows I could almost see the glass shattering. Are you sure you aren't Irish with that temper? I mean, the Welsh are known for their lyrical ways and.....HONOUR, PUT THAT VASE DOWN! NOW!"
Honour did the one thing that surprised Jack.
She put it down.

"Now, that's better. Can we talk about this rationally? Like two adults?"
She nodded and sat down.
"Well, will wonders ever cease?"
She sighed heavily and whispered, "Thank God."
"For what?"
She looked out the port window and said, "Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret like that?"
He reached under the bed and pulled out the bottle of merlot that had been there from a previous hopeful night.
"Don't try to deny she is mine, Honour. I saw--alright, so I snooped--the baptismal record. Your name is not Honour Bright Wolfe. It is really Rhiannon Conaway.  The father is listed as John Michael Wolfe. When did you plan on telling me about her?"
"When the time was right?"
Jack tried mightily to control the Wolfe temper. "What gave you the right to keep the knowledge from me?"
"You lost that right, Jack Wolfe, when you drew a pistol on me and threatened to kill me and Cade Jennings for an imagined indiscretion."
Jack hesitated. "I can't apologize enough to you, Honour. If  you hadn't kicked it out of my hand---"
"Our child would never have been born."
"Tell me where she is."
"In Wales. With my sister Megan."
"She is healthy?"
"Megan? She's never had a sick day in her life."
"You know who I mean."
"Of course I do. The baby is fine. The baby is beautiful."
"How old is she?"
"A year old. Born during the most violent thunderstorm Anglesey has ever seen."
Jack chuckled.
"Leave it to our child to be born when the gods are hurling their thunderbolts."
"It was not an easy time, Jack. But I was in Wales with my family."
"Why the name 'Zara'? Not that I am complaining."
"Did  you expect her name to be Margaret or Ann? The child of Jack Wolfe and Rhiannon Conaway deserved an exotic name. She's an exotic child."
"I found the lock of hair."
"My, my, Jack. You took snooping to a new level. Yes, she has your hair. My blue eyes. A creamy, almost almond complexion. And she is small and delicate."
"When did you find out you were with child?"
"The day I threw up on the ship when I sailed off. I knew then that I would never be able to be rid of you, Jack. A part of you would always be with me. A part of me hated you for that. And another part was oddly comforted."
"And now?"
She looked down. "I don't know. I do know one thing."
"What's that?"
"That it is time you saw your daughter."

[Hibernian]

There was a ringing in his ears that he hadn't notice before. Yet now that the cabin had emptied out and the walking wounded had carried the non-walking survivors to sick bay the monk began to notice things. The first of which was how quiet it was in the cabin. 'Then again, compared to the recent battle in the small cabin a full broadside from a ship of line was a mere cat's meow.'

Righting a stool he sat down, and 'that's another thing, look at all those daggers and stars stuck in the walls. Those must be Lil's, I'll have to return them, but she such a small girl where does she hid them all? No, no, no, get off that topic Timothy, you have enough problems to make that next confession one for ages no need to pile on more time kneeing in penance. I must be tired to wander in that direction.'

Anyone passing by the cabin door at that moment would have seen a monk sitting upon a stool, his head bowed slightly with his shoulders drooping forward and the hands massaging both knees.  'Lord that was a close one, I wonder if the others realize how close we came to actually losing this ship and everyone on it.' Slowly standing up, a muscle throb in the lower back draws the quick attention of the right hand, 'I wonder if the good doctor has any ointment in his stores,' a glance toward the cabin dresser top covered with glass fragments, 'it would appear the majority of my stock bottles are gone with the ages.'

Making his way toward the door, his eyes fall upon the small chest taken from St. Dimas. "Better take that with me, get the Captain, ack no I mean Captains, to put it away for safe keeping.'

'Golden Chest of St. Dimas, Treasure of St. Dimas, Cross of St. Dimas, Battle of St. Dimas that almost kill us all, Vision of St. Dimas that saved us all, thank heaven that He who is above us all watches out for fools and Irish men! And I'm claiming the Irish title, the rest of the crew can fight over who's the fool! Ha!"

[Blackjack Roberts]

Roberts had just finished wrapping the herb soaked linens around the bizarre brands on his arms. Stripped to his waist he sat down heavily on the edge of his cot and pondered the meaning of such an occurrence. Not one of the Lin Qui had ever led him to believe there was anything akin to real magic in their practices. As a matter of fact, all that he had learned from them in China deliberately led to the opposite conclusion. They were extremely clever warriors and spies, when necessary, but all their supposed supernatural abilities were as easily explained as a conjurer's tricks. Once you knew the secret.

Franticly Blackjack searched his memory for some clue that there was more to them than they had let on. Realizing that such panic would be counter productive to his quest he closed his eyes and began one of the meditative breathing exercises they had taught him. Allowing a calm mind to bring back the images of his past.

Roberts had found himself trapped in an Indian prison for the past three months. He had sailed there looking for the secrets of a rumored cult of assassins who may have been able to aid him in his revenge on Terrance Blackwood. They in turn had betrayed him for the promise of the gold the vile English lord had placed on his head, and had him thrown into the dank dungeon while they awaited his cousin's arrival.

One of only two foreign prisoners, he had been there less than a week when a rather large eunuch, being held for the attempted theft of some of a raja's harem, had decided that he was due both his and the chinaman's meager food allowance. Convincing several others to aid him in the attack they bided their time until they thought to catch the two off guard.

Jack pulled every dirty trick he had learned from countless drunken brawls in the taverns and pubs, but never had he seen a man fight like Jun Quon did that day. Had it not been for the results of his movements Blackjack would have sworn the smaller man was dancing? Between the two of them the assault was quickly stymied and the huge instigator lay dead from what looked like a slap to his neck from Jun Quon. The two men became fast friends after that.

To pass the time Jack told Jun Quon much of his story, the Chinese for his part seemed content to let his European friend babble on and volunteered little about himself. Until, two days before Malcolm was due to claim his prize an opportunity to escape presented itself to them.

Their jailer, a brutal and sadistic Punjabi, had come to check on them after obviously having spent way too much time in his cups. Jun Quon began to insult the volatile prison keeper until the bastard drew his scimitar and recklessly charged into the cell with murderous rage. Even weakened by lack of proper food and abuse Jun easily ducked the wild swing and a well-timed foot to the man's skull sent all fourteen prisoners running for their lives.

Unfortunately, one of the prisoners, hoping to be pardoned ran straight to the guardhouse to sound the alarm and several archers quickly followed them. Just before they had gained the cover of the jungle a lucky arrow slammed into Jun Quon's back. Despite the Chinaman's protests to leave him Blackjack slung his friend's body across his shoulders and ran as if Lucifer himself were on his heels.

"J-Jack. Jack." Jun Quon coughed blood and it seemed that he had trouble seeing the man who knelt beside his dying body.

"I'm still here, Mate." Roberts placed one hand on his friend's shoulder. He had broken off the shaft of the arrow and bound the wound as best he could with the rags they wore.

Amazingly Quon struggled to a setting position against Jack's protests that he lay still. With one shaking hand he pulled the amulet he had worn, and somehow kept, over his head. Pressing the leather-corded necklace into Jack's palm.

"You have been a true friend to me in a unfriendly world." Jun choked. "I have long ago surrendered any right to what this amulet is, and means. Take it back to China, Jack Roberts. Show it to any you meet there and say this."

Jun Quon made Blackjack repeat the melodious words over and over, until he was certain the larger man knew them by heart. "This amulet will save your life, my friend. They will know, and they can help you in your quest if you prove worthy. Worthier than I, I am afraid. In my homeland you will find that which you seek."

Jun Quon closed his eyes for the last time, and with the aid of a short, thick branch Blackjack buried his friend as best he could, unwilling to leave him to the beasts of the jungle. A few days later Malcolm almost caught him, and it was with the aid of a special potion an aged guru had taught him to make he escaped to make his way to China, and the Lin Qui.

At the time he had thought that Jun Quon had meant the amulet would keep the Lin Qui from killing him outright. The events of a few hours ago, and looking down at his bandaged arms, he wasn't so sure.