Post by Lord Admiral Jack Flynn on Jun 29, 2008 12:56:44 GMT -6
Jack of the Faerie: All that held the massive galleon Immram in place, were the two great and heavy sea anchors that cascaded from her the great ship and disappeared into the sea. The Immram's decks had a greater roll and pitch to them, now that the Irish fleet had moved beyond the shelter provided by the walled harbor of Turas Lan. As more and more of the Irish-Scottish armada had arrived, the Immram, the Echtra, the Amante Blue, and the Lights End had given up their births for the troop ships and Scots warship that needed to still take on troops and supplies. However, leaving the walled harbor had given the Irish ships another advantage: as was their right, the Irish ships would be in the vanguard of the fleet. The Lagan, the third ship of Jack's squadron, had already been dispatched to Ulster with Carrick aboard her. Jack had dispatched orders with Carrick on how to conduct the war in Ulster. The orders even dictated that every from, from Collin's soldiers to Sara's light calvary, should be suitably painted for war. After all, the English and their Anglo-Irish lackeyes were already expecting an army from the faerie realms. Why not give them what they desired? Jack the Half-Blooded stood at the railing of the Immram, looking out at the remaining ships that had come to make up the fleet of Ulster (in exile). There was a slow smile. War was upon them, and for the English would be no quarter. (d)
Mairi ni Tuatha'an: For the time being, Mairi was with Jack. She knew that it would not be long before the pair would be separated, so that she could lead the second wave of men, and give her speech again to them as well. Standing on deck, Mairi herself was painted as well, and it was clear the lines went well beneath her clothing. Her fiery hair was bound in braids at the front, and she had upon her the sword Jack had given to her as well as three daggers--one for each phase of the life of a woman. She looked out to the sea, making peace with it. Not challenging it, but praying for a smooth journey. She was not sure who was there...Jack, or his mother? But she said the following anyway: "The men need to hear me words." She placed a hand over her belly. Her face was painted so that one side spoke of mortal womanhood, and another side of fey origin. Sturdy boots, heavy heart, restless soul--the Ceannfort and her emerald eyes were ready with the fire of war. Her spirit crested with each wave. (d)
Jack: Could not both at the railing? For there was no greater ally to have in a sea-borne invasion, than one that the ear of Manann mac Lir. One who could read the waves, the wind, and the weather better than Jack himself. At hearing her words, Jack turned from the railing and nodded his head quietly. "Then he shall address 'em," he said. It looked as though Jack had come into his own, when she had made her Consort. There was something in him, in the way he moved, that seemed to indicate the pirate had long disappeared, leaving in his place a man grown into his legacy. And... a man with a greater future? Jack allowed a slow smile to touch his features, as he remembered painting his wife-in-spirit. Although she had spilled the woad upon herself while she had painted him so, some light gestures and feathering with a brush had turned those spills in the faerie war paint. Softer lines, gentler lines, emphasized the role that she had now found herself in: the role of mortal womanhood and the role of mother. Jack strode quietly to the ships bill and gave it's clacker a good few fingers. The haunting sound of the bell, the soul of Immram Jack and his sailors believed, drifted quietly out over the rest of the Irish fleet. Enough to call his men to attention as well as secure the attention of the men upon the other vessels. Jack gently claimed a megaphone and offered it to Mairi. (d)
Mairi: Back straight, position confident, Mairi held her chin in the air and surveyed each approaching ship at the call of the bell. Her pregnancy was known about among the men, many of whom had congratulated Jack, and it was now slightly evidenced by her form. She offered her consort a rather public, v isible, and brief kiss on the lips while all assembled. She accepted the curved device but did not yet use it. "Gather round!" she ordered, noting loyal O'Leary at the front of his ship. The waves seemed to quiet for Mairi's voice. She observed the body of each vessel, and waited for the men to quiet. She held a delicate yet firm hand into the air to inspire silence, then stepped away from her Consort and Admiral. He was a part of her soul, but the words she needed to inspire came from within herself. She recalled the feeling of the Harp of the Dagda between her fingers, and the Stone of the Blarney as her lips had once pressed against it, and she was inspired to move these men to greatness in their own glory. "It is said that freedom comes at a cost," she at last spoke through the device, "an' I sense not one man here would not be willing to pay the ultimate price," she began, "Meself included. But it is Anglish blood that will soon be shed. The fields they have burned will be made fertile by their blood! The lives they have destroyed an' the women they have tarnished will haunt them in fey form. We will reclaim what is ours...an' our children will grow safely to defend our lands, speakin' our language without no fear, wearin' our clothin' without no shame, an' singin' songs of more than just regret..." she began. "We do this fer a new age, an' a new partnership. We'll be soon safe an' secure, as a babe at her mother's breast--but first we must make the sassenach invaders pay fer what they've done. I ask only that ye save their highest rankin' officer fer me." She raised a brow. "Fer I will not be merciful." Teary-eyed, the Ceannfort surveyed the men--many seemed prepared, ready for battle, others seemed entranced and looked at her with lusty eyes the way Jack so often did. Mairi paused before continuing. "Be not afraid to call upon the old ways an' the spirits of our past. We are of more than one belief as a group, an we proceed with these duties with the blessing of our beloved Archbishop of Dunluce, an' the blessing of the true fey." She avoided looking at Jack; no need to give him away, the rumors were more encouraging. "The men who occupy our lands are usin' our resources an' rapin' yer women. Will ye stand for that?" She held the megaphone down as a bunch of the men yelled "NO!!!!" and then when they quieted, she continued once more. "We offer ye the ability to sow yer own fields, make yer own children, tend to yer own lands, but ye have to fight fer it. Is this what ye want to fight fer?" She held her hands up in the air, asking for response, and that she got. "AYE!!" they all said. "No mercy fer those that have delivered none to us," she said, anger and bloodlust in her voice, "An' many prayers for our victory!" Satisfied, she smiled and handed the device back to Jack, catching him in the eye. This was what she was born to do. Men offered her varying looks of worship, lust, and satisfaction. By the end of battle, all of these needs would be seen to--not by Mairi, but the country which she represented. (d)
Jack: When she met Jack's eyes, she would see that upon his face was an approving smile. In his eyes, the very lust that she had inspired in his men. His lust, however, would only be tamed by Mairi herself. Then he stepped forward, raised the loud hailer, and bellowed, "All hands to your stations! All hands to your stations!" The stillness that had settled across the decks of the Irish ships was gone, as the crews launched into a fury of action as the moved to ready the ships for war. Sails were made ready for sail. Across the Irish fleet, the sails strained at the ringging and yearned to be filled with wind. (d)
Mairi: She clasped her hands behind her back as she stood back for Jack to issued orders. She was born to this life, and so was he. "We're going home, anam cara, an' I've ye to thank." It was said with the purest intentions, and as soon as the sailors went about her work, the painted Ceannfort allowed a smile to shine, just for him, as she stared into his eyes. "Ye will do well in battle." There was no worry, it was a fact. "I have marked ye, and ye have marked me. There is no room for anythin' else." She caressed her tattooed hand upon his cheek, showing her approval. (d)
Jack: Jack kissed her hand softly, smiling, "Aye, we shall be goin' ta Eriu's lands once again.... an' only tha Irish er 'those more Irish than tha Irish' shall be 'avin' a place ta call 'ome." At least, in Ulster. Jack left the running of the ships to their individual captains, while one of his subalterns took command of the Immram. (d)
Mairi ni Tuatha'an: For the time being, Mairi was with Jack. She knew that it would not be long before the pair would be separated, so that she could lead the second wave of men, and give her speech again to them as well. Standing on deck, Mairi herself was painted as well, and it was clear the lines went well beneath her clothing. Her fiery hair was bound in braids at the front, and she had upon her the sword Jack had given to her as well as three daggers--one for each phase of the life of a woman. She looked out to the sea, making peace with it. Not challenging it, but praying for a smooth journey. She was not sure who was there...Jack, or his mother? But she said the following anyway: "The men need to hear me words." She placed a hand over her belly. Her face was painted so that one side spoke of mortal womanhood, and another side of fey origin. Sturdy boots, heavy heart, restless soul--the Ceannfort and her emerald eyes were ready with the fire of war. Her spirit crested with each wave. (d)
Jack: Could not both at the railing? For there was no greater ally to have in a sea-borne invasion, than one that the ear of Manann mac Lir. One who could read the waves, the wind, and the weather better than Jack himself. At hearing her words, Jack turned from the railing and nodded his head quietly. "Then he shall address 'em," he said. It looked as though Jack had come into his own, when she had made her Consort. There was something in him, in the way he moved, that seemed to indicate the pirate had long disappeared, leaving in his place a man grown into his legacy. And... a man with a greater future? Jack allowed a slow smile to touch his features, as he remembered painting his wife-in-spirit. Although she had spilled the woad upon herself while she had painted him so, some light gestures and feathering with a brush had turned those spills in the faerie war paint. Softer lines, gentler lines, emphasized the role that she had now found herself in: the role of mortal womanhood and the role of mother. Jack strode quietly to the ships bill and gave it's clacker a good few fingers. The haunting sound of the bell, the soul of Immram Jack and his sailors believed, drifted quietly out over the rest of the Irish fleet. Enough to call his men to attention as well as secure the attention of the men upon the other vessels. Jack gently claimed a megaphone and offered it to Mairi. (d)
Mairi: Back straight, position confident, Mairi held her chin in the air and surveyed each approaching ship at the call of the bell. Her pregnancy was known about among the men, many of whom had congratulated Jack, and it was now slightly evidenced by her form. She offered her consort a rather public, v isible, and brief kiss on the lips while all assembled. She accepted the curved device but did not yet use it. "Gather round!" she ordered, noting loyal O'Leary at the front of his ship. The waves seemed to quiet for Mairi's voice. She observed the body of each vessel, and waited for the men to quiet. She held a delicate yet firm hand into the air to inspire silence, then stepped away from her Consort and Admiral. He was a part of her soul, but the words she needed to inspire came from within herself. She recalled the feeling of the Harp of the Dagda between her fingers, and the Stone of the Blarney as her lips had once pressed against it, and she was inspired to move these men to greatness in their own glory. "It is said that freedom comes at a cost," she at last spoke through the device, "an' I sense not one man here would not be willing to pay the ultimate price," she began, "Meself included. But it is Anglish blood that will soon be shed. The fields they have burned will be made fertile by their blood! The lives they have destroyed an' the women they have tarnished will haunt them in fey form. We will reclaim what is ours...an' our children will grow safely to defend our lands, speakin' our language without no fear, wearin' our clothin' without no shame, an' singin' songs of more than just regret..." she began. "We do this fer a new age, an' a new partnership. We'll be soon safe an' secure, as a babe at her mother's breast--but first we must make the sassenach invaders pay fer what they've done. I ask only that ye save their highest rankin' officer fer me." She raised a brow. "Fer I will not be merciful." Teary-eyed, the Ceannfort surveyed the men--many seemed prepared, ready for battle, others seemed entranced and looked at her with lusty eyes the way Jack so often did. Mairi paused before continuing. "Be not afraid to call upon the old ways an' the spirits of our past. We are of more than one belief as a group, an we proceed with these duties with the blessing of our beloved Archbishop of Dunluce, an' the blessing of the true fey." She avoided looking at Jack; no need to give him away, the rumors were more encouraging. "The men who occupy our lands are usin' our resources an' rapin' yer women. Will ye stand for that?" She held the megaphone down as a bunch of the men yelled "NO!!!!" and then when they quieted, she continued once more. "We offer ye the ability to sow yer own fields, make yer own children, tend to yer own lands, but ye have to fight fer it. Is this what ye want to fight fer?" She held her hands up in the air, asking for response, and that she got. "AYE!!" they all said. "No mercy fer those that have delivered none to us," she said, anger and bloodlust in her voice, "An' many prayers for our victory!" Satisfied, she smiled and handed the device back to Jack, catching him in the eye. This was what she was born to do. Men offered her varying looks of worship, lust, and satisfaction. By the end of battle, all of these needs would be seen to--not by Mairi, but the country which she represented. (d)
Jack: When she met Jack's eyes, she would see that upon his face was an approving smile. In his eyes, the very lust that she had inspired in his men. His lust, however, would only be tamed by Mairi herself. Then he stepped forward, raised the loud hailer, and bellowed, "All hands to your stations! All hands to your stations!" The stillness that had settled across the decks of the Irish ships was gone, as the crews launched into a fury of action as the moved to ready the ships for war. Sails were made ready for sail. Across the Irish fleet, the sails strained at the ringging and yearned to be filled with wind. (d)
Mairi: She clasped her hands behind her back as she stood back for Jack to issued orders. She was born to this life, and so was he. "We're going home, anam cara, an' I've ye to thank." It was said with the purest intentions, and as soon as the sailors went about her work, the painted Ceannfort allowed a smile to shine, just for him, as she stared into his eyes. "Ye will do well in battle." There was no worry, it was a fact. "I have marked ye, and ye have marked me. There is no room for anythin' else." She caressed her tattooed hand upon his cheek, showing her approval. (d)
Jack: Jack kissed her hand softly, smiling, "Aye, we shall be goin' ta Eriu's lands once again.... an' only tha Irish er 'those more Irish than tha Irish' shall be 'avin' a place ta call 'ome." At least, in Ulster. Jack left the running of the ships to their individual captains, while one of his subalterns took command of the Immram. (d)
