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 Posted: Sat Jan 10, 2009 1:36 pm
Bridgetown Square A large open space sits in the middle of town. It is the meeting of all roads and the perfect place to meet people before leaving on an adventure. A statue stands erected in the middle of the square. It is the perfect heroic image of Wickit, the founder of Bridge Town. Below that was a small step listing the many governers it had had over the years and at the bottom of the list was the current governor, Admiral Lord Sir Sidney Cochrane. On the opposite side of the square from the statue, stands the village gallows. Normally, such a sight would bring forth a sad meloncholy feeling, but in this particular town, the gallows stood for something more than death. Most of the citizens of Provoka had escaped the hangmans noose many a time before to find unpursicuted freedom elsewhere upon the Globe. These particular gallows meant something more to these people... they meant unity as a community. A place to gather for meetings and at time, upright revolt. Revolution!
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Posted: Tue Oct 06, 2009 11:55 am
Carefully teetering upon the tips of his boots, Cochrane put the finishing touches upon the setup he'd been working on all day. Tightening the noose, he turned and walked back to the lever switch.
"Any last words?"
There was no answer, which seemed appropriate, for everyone knew how guilty the hanged-man truely was.
"Right. George Stuart the 3rd, High Lord, King of England, Scotland, Ireland, Brittany & all of Britannia's outlying Colonies around the World, I, by the powers investedto me by your servant, William Pitt, Prime Minister of England during the Continental Wars of 1789 to 1815, do herby find you guilty of war crimes various by nature and order you to hang, by the neck, until you are dead... dead... dead. Pray, Hangman, carry out the sentence."
Prancing where he stood, he grinned with delight. Rubbing his hands together, he took hold of the lever and with one all mighty crash it was all over and done with. The plank fell, the body dropped, the noose tightened, the rope twanged, the neck broke and all was silent aside form the creeking of the rope under the ponderous weight of it's victim.
Drawing his sabre, Cochrane cantered over to the open hole in the platform and looked at what he had done. Smiling, he slashed at the rope. Instantly, the twine gave way and the heavy sacks of grain dropped to the ground, spilling everywhere.
"It'll be so much more fun when it's not just a burlap effigy.."
Ignoring the clean up, Sidney Cochrane then went about putting up the banners, torches and sounding the war drums for effect. This would be a night to remember. If only his ancestor Captain Kurisutofa had lived to see this day.
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Admiral Lord Cochrane Captain
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Posted: Tue Oct 06, 2009 4:15 pm
It had been a long time. Quite. The remnants of the name Daithes were gone, all save but the Isle. That dank Isle. Nevertheless the sole possessor of that Isle was now a rugged union man whose fore fathers worked for them. How he came upon the territory was another tale. Let us observe now, as our man makes his cue...
"Eve'nin, sir. Got the message via my boy here..."
Our man motions towards a small meek figure; dark as sin and wiry as a rod. As for our man, he is a stout fellow; barrel chested and dressed in a wool overcoat. Knitted alpaca cap on his head tells us this man has traveled about, and the wind-scarred face tell us he is your regular seadog. He smeels of tobacco, and he wears pants of hemp. Footwear? Looks to be the plain U.S. Navy issue decksole. The people of Provoka know of him for his time in the pub and around the town. They call him Corsco.
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Posted: Tue Oct 06, 2009 5:14 pm
Mae's upper lip twitched as he approached the island, the small dinghy carrying him moored quietly on the shore. It had been a while since he'd been there, and he was worse for the wear and tear on his body. Flecks of grey showed up in his tightly braided hair, kept so to keep it out of his eyes that betrayed the years of experience. His better days behind him, the man was still a pirate, and he had his damned pride. He would have none of this, and as he walked calmly to the town square, his limp gave him away.
"I heard the news, and 'ave come to offer me support." He declared as he arrived.
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Admiral Lord Cochrane Captain
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Posted: Wed Oct 07, 2009 7:33 am
Putting a banner upon the soap box that acted as a pedistal, Cochrane pulled on his coat and put a hand to his brow. Gazing over his square, he set eyes on three figures. Two were familiar enough figures. They looked the part of everyday sea scum - vagabonds of the high seas. He'd seen the younger of the two about the pub. But it was the third that struck him dumb. He was an odd little man no higher than his own waist with a black look about him..
"Welcome, welcome... you're early yet. You have one of two options. Sit about and rest up until the 13th arrives, or help me get the town into shape for this seasons visitation. We haven't much time."
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Posted: Wed Oct 07, 2009 1:01 pm
Corsco nodded. He tapped his boy on the shoulder, and in Swahili tongue, told him to go back to the pub and help with the janitorial work he would find there.
Now that the boy was gone, Corsco turned to the Admiral.
"Ay, sir. I'd reckon I could give you a hand. Mind tellin' what job need tackled?"
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Admiral Lord Cochrane Captain
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Posted: Wed Oct 07, 2009 4:39 pm
Smirking more to himself than to Corsco, Cochrane mopped his brow and then tapped his cocked hat back upon his head. Pulling back on his coat, he straightened himself as he spoke.
"Well, Corsco, I'll say this. Anyone who is privileged enough to call me friend knows that I am a student of the old school. When it comes to warfare, I've been taught that victory is in hand with this simple formula: It's not the size of the army, it's how you use it. But size dun' hurt either.
So, that being said, what I need, Corsco.. what I really need, is a fighting militia. I've recalled the 13th Procca, but who knows how many will turn up. Most of them are either dead, drunk.. or dead drunk. Ha ha!"
Cochrane chuckled to himself, making a mental note to remember that witicism for future dinner parties. Regaining himself quickly, he looked this man Corsco straight in the eye and said..
"You've done me a good service by showing up, now allow me to do you a damned bad one. I'm making you a Lieutenant in the Provokan Service, Corsco. With this title and rank you have the right to picking your own Sergeant and grouping together a prime group of crackshot riflemen. Of course, you have nothing but seamen and vagabonds to pick from around here, so you'll have to make due. But once you have them together and trained, you'll be the main land resistance here on the island aside from the 13th Procca, which consists of the local native Proccans. Once you prove to me that you can handle your group, you'll be granted command of the 13th Procca as well as the 1st Provokan Regulars. I may also provide uniforms for every man in your squadron if things go well."
Eyeing his new Lieutenant, his grin broadened.
"So, are you up for the challenge?"
He did not wait for Corsco's reply, but moved right onto the second gentleman. He'd limped in and therefore, Cochrane had his doubts about his physical abilities to stand and fight. He knew him from sight. The gruff and grizzled old veteran who knew a thing or two about warfare, but was too proud to admit he was past his prime. Cochrane knew what to do with him.
"As for you, Maeamian, I want you to train our troops. Get them physically and mentally prepared for what they're about to face. I'm making you a Lieutenant Colonel. This will make you one of the top ranking Officers ashore, but it'll keep you on the hard until we rebuild our fleet, but it's just as well. Your days off will comprise of relocating the village to the Isle of Daithes, which lies off shore - North Nor'East. This will allow the citizenship to thrive while the Island is under attack. Any questions?"
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Posted: Thu Oct 08, 2009 3:40 pm
There was a twinkle in the old pirate's eye as he saluted, "No sir! Cochrane, sir. Just show me to the troops and I'll have 'em ship shape in a week." He smiled broadly, he liked the feeling of usefulness, it had been a while. He was equally pleased that it was a task he knew he could succeed at. A single tear of joy slipped out of his eye and rolled down his cheek.
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Admiral Lord Cochrane Captain
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Posted: Thu Oct 08, 2009 6:14 pm
Is he...? No, he's not.. Yes, he is! He's crying!
Cochrane tried to maintain his composure by looking over the man's shoulder. He grinned inwardly to himself. He liked to see men with such enthusiasm.
"Right, then if you'll follow me, Colonel.. I'll take you to the 13th Procca before they are able to essemble and fake out a decent enough appearance. They're right lazy scoundrels if you ask me, but my grandfather thought the world of them, so out of family tradition, I offer them pay for their service. Don't know what they do with it, seeing as how they keep to their heathen ways.. all that nakedness and grass-hut living. Bah, it's utter rubbish. Not the way, Maeamian, not the way at all.
The only two things I admire about them really, is their ingenuity. You see, unlike you or me, they know no code of conduct. In their world, there are no rules to war. If they want something, they simply fight for it and whoever is left standing is the winner. And don't even get me started on their means of killing their enemies.
I'll leave it like this... there was a frenchman who came ashore three years ago looking for his old family settlement. He wandered about the island for god only knows how long and in doing so stumbled into the middle of the Proccas Hunting Encampment during the prime of the season. The Chief elder of the tribe told the frenchman that he thought him a spy for a forgien government, looking to destroy the alliance between the Procca and the Free Town of the Bridgetown Settlement. The Chief, having always been a loyal ally since the days of my grandfather, decided that he wanted to prove his alleigance was still strong. So, he had the men of the 13th Procca seize the Frenchman, ordered them to kill him and send his head to me wrapped in the finest cloth they had. As if that wasn't enough, you want to know how they did him in? They killed him with a nail, Maeamian.. a Nail! Driven right through his bloody skull"
Turning about, Cochrane realized that Corsco's was still following them. Haulting, he looked Corsco in the eye once more.
"You do understand your orders, yes? Gather a group of Riflemen and bring them to Maeamian here for training. After that, we'll see where things stand. As for where to get men, there is a Rifleman here on the island as we speak. A professional soldier come in on a packet that foundered off the point. His names Dodd. William Dodd. If I know his sort.. and I think I do, he'll likely be haunting the old tavern."
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