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John Bellamy
Crew

PostPosted: Mon Jun 05, 2006 7:03 am


-The Puerto Rican itinerary of John Cecil Bellamy-


Day one.
It is now that I, John Cecil Bellamy, write an account of my goings on in the land of Puerto Rico and my journey to it.
I had, for many months, been in the company of the inhabitants of Ile De Provoka. Ile De Provoka itself being inhabited by some of the most loathsome rascals whom ever graced the Caribbean Sea.
However I had, at times, taken delight in their perpitritions for at time they partook of much merriment.

At one point a great Beast, covered in hair and yelling like a Man inraged, made off with some of the Islanders possessions. It was with much incouragement that the Islanders made pursuit of the Beast and soon laid it waist.
The island is also inhabited by a violent and reclusive People. It is as a result of my interaction with these People that I lost my Eye and that my trip to Puerto Rico became a necessity.

It is with a bitter countenance that,I admit, that the Boat with which I made my leave of Provoka in was not of my ownership. It was, in fact, the Boat of a Ardrick O'Flaherty. I have made it my duty to compensate Mister O'Flaherty as soon as I can afford to do so.
Once upon the Ocean I made my exit from the Provokan Isle and with much excitement watched as it slowly was relieved of my sight and disappeared into the Horizon.
With naught my the Sea for my company I had at last earned a moment of privacy.


Day Two.
At the sight of a small island ahead I decided to make berth, if only to recuperate and feel solidity beneath my feet once more. I fell asleep upon the beach. The grass was very short and soft.
I stood in the water for some time awaiting an unwary fish to swim by, with the intention of grabbing it like a heron would do in my home country of Irelande.
When at last I caught such a fish it was of a peculiar shape. From the tip of its head spouted a burst of water and as I left it on the grass to suffocate (as fish do when they are not in water for a lengthy time) it seemed to change little at all except that it was now dry to the touch.
I prepared a fire and after giving it death I cooked and ate it and then fell asleep.

What I will tell you next is due in no part to my continuos infatuation with rum, for when I awoke I found that I was bound to the ground. Every strand of my hair had too been fastened to earth beneath me.
When I made to move a finger I found it quite impossible.
It was then I noticed something that astounded me, which I must inform you again is due in no part to my infatuation wit rum, a man no taller that thumb moving across my chest!
He was dressed in a militaristic uniform and shouted at me in a language similar to Spanish. Having learnt Spanish whilst I was a lad travelling across the European continent I made an attempt to converse with him. I explained that I desired my liberation and would do them no harm.
His fellow men, who were all surrounding me at this point, made to remove my bounds as it seems their captain found me to be trustworthy sort. They explained to me that they were "Smidgets" and that they delighted in parties, cheerful music and merry songs. They told me that they were content in their lives. However they insisted that I be taken to their capital to be displayed as an oddity. This did not please me.

I made quick work of the smidgits, wiped the entrails off my boots and continued my journey to Puerto Rico.

I must again remind you that this tale is due in no part to my infatuation with rum.

...seriously... ninja


(More soon)  
PostPosted: Fri Jan 26, 2007 9:41 pm


Ardrick creaks the door open. When he shuts the door, only the light from wall candles remains to pierce through the fog of smoke. Some groups sit at tables quietly discussing politics that don't concern them. Others sit alone, drinking while poring over pages upon pages in open journals.

"Ha!"

Most of the people in the room turn to see him. Nothing but Ardrick's footsteps can be heard as he walks up to the stage.

"You try to find something interesting to tell your audience in your journals and recordbooks, but you can only find emotion!"

With his emphasis on emotion, a few lone men stop smoking and lean closer.

"Well let me tell you, men..."

Now even the groups want to know this secret Ardrick seems to be holding.

"You should write better journals!"

An uproar of disappointment stirs the room.

"If one man in here can find the events behind the emotions in his journal and tell that event here, then I will continue my own tale."

Somes' eyebrows raise in interest. Others' narrow their eyes in the excitement of what they see as a competition for the first to tell their event. As Ardrick walks back through the door and into the bar, he thinks, Well, atleast I got a good laugh out of this.

Ardrick

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'Isle de Provoka' ~ Age of Sail (Est.1600-1860)

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