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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Jun 18, 2009 14:09:19 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
The sound of clinking glasses and drunken laughter drew the young pirate in, luring him and keeping his powerless to resists. He slipped in, unnoticed by the adults and squeezed between cramped tables, guffawing men and a few of their female companions. No one noticed the small, adolescent boy wearing a long black cloak and boots that were too big for him. Next to the blades of these fighters, Damian bore a mere pin at his side. Nat, as he had named his dagger, had always been there when he had needed it most. He had rather liked the way the light glinted along the silver-colored blade. The way it cut so easily through fruit and other food sources never ceased to claim his interest and the sound of it sliding in and out of its sheath was music to his ears. Soon, he was going to need a bigger blade, a much bigger blade.
No on noticed him at all until he clambered up onto a stool and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a few gold and silver coins that he had picked up on the street. He should have been saving them for a real sword, but they were nowhere near the amount he needed and besides, it would be much easier to steal a sword from someone than to buy one, but whatever. He didn’t exactly have a ship to sail away on or a captain to look after him, should he ever need a quick get away.
The coins clinked on the table and finally, a tall, unshaven, ungroomed and generally unkempt tavern keeper turned to take notice of the boy. He squinted down at the pirate, scrutinizing him for a moment, but then he shook his head and pushed Damian’s money back toward him.
“Sorry boy, you’re too young.”
Damian was furious.
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: 317 listening to: dinner being prepared lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: tired notes: none tagged: open
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Post by Delilah Delaqua on Jul 5, 2009 20:35:04 GMT -8
Looking at her drink Lila sat at the table closest to the taverns bar, a whiskey in hand her dagger on her belt and her cross-bow and arrows upstairs in the room she was renting. Keeping to herself so as not to get mixed up with the men and the buxom women who came here on a daily basis, she looked up from her drink to the tavern bar to see John the taverns keeper serving out drinks to customers, wondering how he stood their garbage. Though she knew for him it was business and he needed the money.
Then suddenly seeing a little more movement in the crowd that no one noticed Lila saw a what looked like to be a boy cause of his small stature under the cloak he wore and the boots that looked two sizes to big for him, she began to wonder why a young boy would come into a pirate tavern like this. Catching a glimpse of his face as he moved around men and women to get to the bar Lila muttered curse as she watched him jump on a stool and fling a few coins onto the bar to have them pushed away by John who then said something that from what she knew of the boy would have made him furious.
Taking another sip of her whiskey she wondered if she should go grab the boy and give him a good talking to or just leave him to his own devices. She still didn't know his name, but the bloody boy should bloody well think about the places he walked into, 'bloody egotistical little sh*t he was,' Lila thought as putting down her whiskey she went over to the bar and stood behind the boy and grabbing his wrist she said softly her voice though not gentle so only he could hear, "I suggest boy that ye come with me without nay fuss, or i'll have the pleasure of throwing ye out the door meself, ye hear." As looking up she saw John had turned around, though she kept all her concentration on the boy and what he might do.
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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Jul 8, 2009 3:16:39 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
He felt a hand on his wrist and he spun around, instinctively, pulling at his dagger as he did so. Snarling, he turned to face whomever had been so foolish to grab him, snarling wildly, only to discover that it was the red-haired girl who had unfortunately cornered him on the abandoned island. He bristled, not at all happy to see her familiar face, but he was armed, this time, he had an actual reason to hate her now and there were witnesses, lots of witnesses.
"What I do is my own," He wrenched his hand away from her, "business." He took several steps back, doing his best to ignore the interest of the few still-sober people around him. "I'm old enough to take care of myself, lassie."
He turned away from her, Nat still in his hand. Pulling himself up to a table, he slammed Nat point-down in the wood. Just because they were denying him drink didn't mean they had to deny him food too and he could get some water later. Besides, no one was going to throw him out, but if anyone tried, he'd be ready and they would really regret it.
He cast one more glance behind him, as if to let her know he wanted nothing to do with her.
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: 213 listening to: teenagers by my chemical romance lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: happy notes: none
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Post by Delilah Delaqua on Jul 9, 2009 6:19:39 GMT -8
Letting him go to a spare table, Lila scowled at his back, the looking back towards John she muttered, "another whiskey sir i need it." Nodding at this John went and grabbed her one, bringing it back to her she picked the bottle up. Snapping off the lid Lila took a gulp of the alcohol and murmured to John who lent on the bar in front of her, "the boys gonna want something to eat and water to drink, even if you can't give him the drink he originally came for." A small smile lit her lips, but then a thought came crashing on her head her expression becoming serious again. Taking her drink she gave Johna nod and returned to her table, leaving him wondering she'd gone all serious again.
Placing her drink down Lila gracefully swung into her seat, noting that from her table she could sit an watch the boy, who looked decidedly furious at seeing her again. This boy had no idea what he was in for coming into a place like this. Sure it was a respectable pirates tavern, but at his seemingly tender age of what she still didn't know, there were some things that went around here weren't for the eyes of a young boy. Lila just hoped that nothing like that would happen tonight if anyone got overly drunk.
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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Jul 14, 2009 9:29:54 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
The young pirate whipped around, cricking his neck as he turned to glare at the red-haired girl, regretting every single thing he had said to her back on that deserted island. Her reappearance was most inconvenient for him. Karma did exist, he decided and he was falling victim to it. As much as he didn't want to admit it, that was his fault. He wouldn't have to be going through this if he had just held his tongue, but alas, Damian was nigh incapable of that.
"I can order my own food, thank you very much." He snapped, glaring at his red-haired "friend". Of course, then he had the dilemma of coming up with something he wanted to eat quickly, as not to look like he just wanted an excuse to yell at the girl. That had been all he had wanted to do, of course, but he couldn't let her have the satisfaction of knowing.
"Bring me any red meat you have with the vegetables your daughter picked this morning." He demanded. "And any liquid that isn't seawater." He added, disdainfully. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a small leather pouch, soaking wet and grimy. Loosening the strings, he spilled a few coins out on the table. They weren't gained by daring fights or thrilling plundering, but by Damian's specialty: pickpocketing.
"I can pay for it." He added, unnecessarily.
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: 228 listening to: sister goldenhair by america lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: annoyed and oddly content notes: sorry for the late reply, i've been sort of neglecting damian
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Post by Delilah Delaqua on Jul 16, 2009 5:55:51 GMT -8
Watching the boy glare, a small smile just happened to flutter across Lila’s lips, a mischievous glint in her eye. Listening to him snap at her she just watched as he ordered is meal and drink, then bending down he picked out some money from his boot. No doubting where the money came from Lila just sat there leaning back against the seat taking sips of her whiskey as she watched him waiting for his meal. Drinking in the conversation around her, watching the women with the men, Lila getting bored took a swig of her whiskey as she stood up sliding around the table to go for a walk, she bumped into a burly man who was walking to the bar. Muttering “excuse me,” she was just about to walk away when she was grabbed roughly and turned around. Not hearing his words just feeling disgusted by his spitting mouth Lila stepped on his toes and kneed him in the groin as she said quietly and menacingly, “I do nay have nae time for ye, ye stupid bastard.” Walking away from the now bent over man Lila stalked back up to the bar and slumped herself on the first seat she saw which was next to the boy. Looking up at John she asked in a bored voice, “Another whiskey, please if ye don’t mind?” Letting her head drop onto her folded arms on the bar Lila just sat there her hand going out to her drink as she heard it clunk on the bar in front of her.
((ooc: your alright it happens lol))
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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Jul 19, 2009 7:31:21 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
Damian raised his eyebrows, but otherwise he watched the fight placidly, with no other physical signs of being impressed. He was used it to, having been exposed to the wild ways of piracy for as long as he could remember. The constant fighting, the violent throwing of things about, the drinking and whatever wench came to sweet-talk one of his shipmates. She often crooned over him like he was a little puppy, telling him how adorable, fair-of-face and otherwise cute he was. Then some of them would pinch him on the cheeks. This he hated and had, upon that point, bitten more than one of them. He really didn't have an interest in women, which was strange, seeing as he had been drunk more times than he could count, murdered several people and ransacked countless villages. Right little criminal, he was and at the age of thirteen. To him, women were just like men: tall and annoying, either telling him to go to bed or shield his eyes or to get them more ale because he had "younger legs".
"You're rather bold." He pointed out, as she came over to sit next to him, "Sitting next ter a pirate boy." He snorted, as if enjoying some inside joke with himself. "I thought I ain't good enough for the likes of you, your majesty." The barman slammed a large mug of milk onto the countertop and Damian grasped it with his tiny hands, hardly missing a beat as he downed a third of the large tankard in one gulp. What did anyone have to complain about? It wasn't like he was going to get drunk on milk. And even if by some miracle he did, it was nothing compared to the rest of the tavern. He slammed it down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"Remember me? I'm the boy with ther knife." And he drew it, holding it up to the light for a moment, letting it glimmer down the hilt before he drew it back to him and sheathed it in its tiny scabbard at his side. "But I suppos' you're not very frighten' of me." He smirked. "Af-ter all, I nearly caugh' you."
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: 364 listening to: nothing, at the moment lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: so-so notes: at least he's not a thirteen-year-old pervert
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Post by Delilah Delaqua on Jul 22, 2009 4:43:24 GMT -8
Lifting her head Lila grabbed the bottle of whiskey taking a large gulp, she put the bottle back down. Starting to cough she nearly choked on what went down her throat, Lila accidentally slammed her fist on the table, as she finally swallowed the drink her eyes watering slightly. Then looking out of the corner of her eye she watched the boy as he talked, her eyes stopped watering and she turned on her seat to face him fully.
Looking at him and small grin on her face as she watched him take his dagger out and then sheath it as it lay between her and him. Then looking back at him again Lila said," Well my dear boy, yes i remember ye and that verra lovely lookin' knife you have here." Taking a sip of her whiskey she swallowed it before leaning in and saying in a low voice her grin still there on her face, "And if ye remember my boy, i had also caugh' ye on that island, and if i wanted to i would've killed ye. But as it happens, i dinae have the heart to do such a thing to even a boy who in most certainty had the intention of killing me." Leaning back she faced forward again she looked at the boy taking another sip of her whiskey.
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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Aug 4, 2009 11:22:02 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
He shook his head. Kill her? Now that was a little extreme. Injure her? No, he had better manners than that and Damian didn't really have any manners to begin with, so that was saying something. He had never wanted to physically harm her. But a servant, a slave or two, those positions were wide open for employment.
"Kill you?" He repeated, looking up at her, his child-like eyes filled with mocking down to their gray depths. "I don't want to kill you. I've never wanted to kill you. I've never wanted to kill anyone." He paused, thinking better of what he had just said. "I take that back, I want to kill certain people, loads of them in fact. Because they're all gits."
The barman slammed a mug filled with fresh goats' milk down on the table and Damian grasped it, raised it to his lips and drank deeply. He had tasted liquor before and he was hoping, despite the earlier refusal that the man might provide him with some sort of alcoholic beverage, but alas, milk was all he got.
"And for your information," He added, slamming his mug back on the table and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "You couldn't have killed me." He looked her up and down. "You're a coward, just like all the other girls. You couldn't follow me after I went swimming."
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: probably around 200 listening to: nothing, at the moment lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: pretty good notes: none
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Post by Delilah Delaqua on Aug 22, 2009 5:55:31 GMT -8
"I dear boy certainly ain't no coward," Lila murmured as she looked down towards him taking another sip of her whiskey now half empty. " The only reason I dinae kill ye was because ye are a child still,. Though i think ye may deny this fact, but its true." Laughing to herself she looked up at the barman grinning like a silly child as she looked back at the boy."And daresay I that ye may know a fare bit about somethings even I don't, but ye do have to consider that you are still very immature in some very serious matters, such as..." smiling as she tapped her slim fingers upon the bar top she looked around the room then back at the boy and said, "such as drinking under age. Sure you may have had the stuff before, but before you drink anymore think of how the alcohol such as the whiskey i'm drinking can make ye stupid, and think if ye drank that everyday since ye were 10. The stuff plays with ye mind eventually nothing in ye head seems normal. Trust me on that i've seen it happen and it ain't pretty."
Lifting her dainty hand of the bar top Lila looked down at her bottle of whiskey twirling a finger around the top her nail scraping the glass. As she did this she said to the boy, "I know ye ain't stupid, ye seem to have a good head in certain situations." Looking up she smiled then said, " The only reason I dinae keep going after ye in those waters, was because i hate having to nurse a bloody flu, cause i know i have to stop and recover, meaning it stop me little adventures."
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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Aug 23, 2009 15:01:06 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
Immediately, Damian shouted her down with a scoff. A child? He was not a child, thank you very much. Hadn't he already proved himself in a brawl at sea? Hadn't he already shown his valor and his bravery? Hadn't he already let all who could see him know who skilled he was with a sword? Or at least, the dagger he used to defend himself when no larger and more potentially dangerous weapon was lying around. He really needed to work on looking for a sword, a real one this time, that actually worked, to steal. As much as he had grown close to the dagger, Nat, he really needed something bigger and more impressive.
He set his mug down onto the table with a harsh thunk, glaring at his red-haired oppressor. So he had followed her around some port the name of which he could not remember at the moment. So what!? It had been great fun, to say the least and he had been bored. "I'll have ye know that I am not a child and I'll not thank ye for butting into me affairs." He growled, as much as a pirate boy in a pub with a changing, squeaky voice could growl. "Aye, I can hold me liquor and I don't see how it's any of thou business," He spoke in an odd, but still butchered dialect of olde and middle English, snippets that he had picked up from other pirates and strange peoples, "unless your majesty wants to play a drinking game with a wee lad." He smirked and downed the rest of his milk. He knew the man behind the counter would not sell him any alcohol, but that didn't mean he couldn't make this girl go get some for him. He could slip her the coins under the table.
"Aye, that's just another way of saying ye're a coward...a coward of catching cold." He jeered.
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: 354 listening to: nothing, at the moment lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: muse-ful notes: none
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Post by Delilah Delaqua on Aug 29, 2009 17:39:22 GMT -8
"And ye squeaky growl ain't gonna change my mind any sooner, "Lila said smirking down at the boy who made a loud thunk with his mug on the bar top, and was now glaring back up at her. "But it is part of ye growing into a man, so nothing else to say 'bout that." Laughing she took another swig of her whiskey slowly pulling it away from her mouth and placing it on the bar top.
"Aye i bet ye can lil' lad and this drinking game ye suggest would not last as long as it could as I am already part-way to a very drunken stage, but ye sit her and call me a coward and i ain't gonna go away with that over me head. " Her voice wavering slightly as she then hiccuped and giggled quietly.
Smiling down at the boy she said, "cough up ye money boy and we can get this started... also i dinae keep chasing ye cause i hate to to be slowed down in life by a pitiful cold ye get it. Good... now where's ye coins." Her hand placed out under the bar so John wouldn't see the boy handing her the coins.
-------------------------------------- (( hmmmm...... still need to write up her history lucky i kept the piece of paper i wrote it down on lol, thought i'd lost it XD))
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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Sept 3, 2009 16:15:39 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
“‘Squeaky growl’?” The young pirate mewed, deeply offended, “And you’re what? You’re a girl! Your voice ain’t deep! Ye shouldn’t be talkin’!” He ranted, still not about to give in to her slight on his still-changing voice. To be expected to do a man’s work, but not to be treated with respect befitting of a man was a terrible curse that only time could lift. At least, Damian would have been doing the work of a man if he could only find a captain with a ship willing to pay him. He had done such work before.
He reached inside his pocket and pulled out several gold and silver coins. Letting them clink upon the table. “What?” He asked, after a minute. Then he raised his eyebrows. “Ye be wondring where I got it, aren’t ye? Well, that be none of ye business. Now get me the hardest drink they got. Don’t be goin’ easy, wench.”
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: 176 listening to: raggle taggle gypsy-o by celtic thunder lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: pretty good notes: none
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Post by Delilah Delaqua on Sept 4, 2009 15:10:54 GMT -8
Laughing still she took the coins that he placed onto the bar top and said, " And i don't want to be a man, boy i'd rather be who I am, "Smiling she turned on her seat and asked for the two mugs of teh strongest alcohol they had, John looking suspiciously at Lila she smiled back up at him, passing him the money as he gave her the drinks. "And i'm certainly nae surprised that ye have money, because what little pirate boy wouldn't know how to pick-pocket."
Grinning she passed the boy one mug and holding hers in both hands she said, "ye ready for this boy, whom ye name i still dinae ken." Laughing she took a swig of the drink, tipping slightly as she placed the mug down on the bar top.
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Post by Tobias Mhuir on Oct 3, 2009 20:27:43 GMT -8
gather ’round, ye lads and lasses set ye for a while and hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone and lift our voices in another irish drinking song
He had no answer for that, but merely followed her with his gaze as she made her way to the counter and returned with two full mugs brimming with something that apparently was strong. But he had not failed to overhear what the barman had let slip. So he couldn’t pickpocket, could he? Well, he could show the old man what pickpocketing really meant. In fact, he’d even treat this pirate maid to their little drinking fest and he wouldn’t pay a halfpence for it. He’s pay the money fair and square by use of his “mature” runner and then steal it all back. Ever last coin. The very thought brought a smug grin to his young face.
What fools these mortals be!
He reached across the table, caught the mug and raised it to his lips without a word, letting the harsh liquid slid down his throat. It took a moment before he felt it burn him and his eyes watered as he felt the urge to cough, but he knew how weak he would look if he gave him. He could not, especially after his proclamation of tough-ness. He had to prove that he was just as good as any full-grown man. So he did not allow himself to give him and forced his eyes to remain dry, for his face to remain emotionless and for his hand to remain steady as he set his mug back on the table.
“They call me Tobias Colby Mhuir or just Toby. I was told I was borne en Ireland, but me home is on the open seas.” He grinned, and let another gulp of alcohol slide down his throat. “What is this stuff?”
now everybody’s died so until our tears are dried we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more we’ll dance and sing and fight until the early morning light then we’ll throw up pass out wake up and then go drinking once again
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word count: 297 listening to: declaration of love by celine dion lyrics credit: another irish drinking son by da vinci's notebook mood: pretty good notes: i changed his name to tobias
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