[Elfsea] Greetings from Iron Roger Flint

Randal Mars rkmars at sbcglobal.net
Fri May 2 20:23:07 PDT 2008


She removes the carefully folded scrolling from the talon of a truely magnificent peregrine and after settling the bird onto its perch and hooding it properly, after carefully tying its jesses, she sits down at her table and bringing a candle closer reads the words written to her from this Northman. Her eyes sparkle with good mirth and humor as she peruses the thoughts the Man has written to her. Gurgles of laughter slip from between her rosy lips as she reads His fine boasts. Tapping her teeth with a pearly pink fingernail she thinks carefully after completing the epistle.

Turning to look at her cherished feline curled up on a plump cushion carelessly tossed into a corner she speaks in a musical voice.

Ahh, old cat, it seems there are fine and hearty Men borne on the tossing breast of Mother Ocean. One such calls himself Roger Flint. He has certainly caught my attention, this hairy hunter who sails as a ravening wolf against the fat sheep merchants. He mis-read me and thinks I fear Nobles. Nay cat, 'tis vomiting and retching and wasting good sustinance that I fear, and any thrifty Captain would fear the loss of food needed for crews who mutter and flag in their duties far too easily when their bellys twist in hunger. Nonetheless, old cat, he sounds to be a fine Man and worth the knowing of. We shall see what the morrow brings.

Putting away her quills and inkpot and folding the cherished scraps of parchment for another day's usage, she clears sundry other items from the table. Listening to the familiar creaking of the ship lying easily at anchor and nodding in quiet satisfaction, she stows her belongings
carefully into a locked leather and brass bound trunk which is then pushed into a hidden closet in the wainscoting. Returning to the peregrine she stands for a moment reguarding the bird thoughtfully.

You have served  me well this day, Bane, my fine hunter and messenger. From the look of you it seems the Northman was well mannered and fed you before sending you aloft to return to me with his last message. A Man who treats a skilled bird well is worth much and worthy of respect. We shall see what the morrow brings. Rest well, my friend.

Her last words as she slipped into the warm embrace of sleep echoed in the silence of a cabin broken only by the soft purring of a contented cat curled at the foot of her pallet and the occasional soft ruffle of feathers from a pirch across the room.

Now I wonder why it is this Northman thought a proud and independant business woman of the Ancient Lineage of Lyoness to be an Anglick? Pffttt..... there is no understanding foreigners, is there? Goodnight, cat. Goodnight, Bane.

There were no answers at all from the darkness.

Aye, indeed, the morrow will tell.

 



----- Original Message ----
From: Harold Tolliver <ironrogerflint.harold at gmail.com>
To: Barony of Elfsea <elfsea at lists.ansteorra.org>
Sent: Friday, May 2, 2008 9:19:11 PM
Subject: Re: [Elfsea] Greetings from Iron Roger Flint

Aye, Shiver in Terror. 
I am from the north and my hair may be white, but I am not one of the Vik. They know not the courage of my crew, nor the skill of lying in wait for days for my prey. Nor do they live north of the trees, for that is my hunting ground, and they would not long survive in my world. 

And you...You Anglik Privateer. 
You have to have "permission" in order to wage thievery. Your ships sail the warm seas for you are not capable of watching a sparrow, let along an eagle. 

You even say that you are afeared of "offending Noble Women and small children"? I fear naught. Nor do I fear offense of my person, nay for I am the Iron Roger Flint. 



On Fri, May 2, 2008 at 8:57 PM, Randal Mars <rkmars at sbcglobal.net> wrote:

Shiver in terror??? Who is this hairy varlet who casts aspersions on Bad Bunnye's courage??? Maybe I might have been seen a' shiverin' when I was harvesting ice on the frozen fjords keeping eagle's watch on my numerous captive viking slaves... and I feel twinges of cold because the favored grog of the vikings is made from the yellow watery leavings of scrofulous mares, so I drink it not! 
 
No breathing man, save Eric Sendal of York, has seen me shiver in my shift. And by my troth, it was not fear that had me shivering, 'twas quite another thing altogether. He being a discrete man, living without a death wish, speaks not of it. 'Twould seem York breeds smart men.
 
How do the vikings breed? Such matters are never mentioned for fear of retching and vomiting good food and grog and thus offending Noble Women and small children. *gales of laughter* 
 
So there. 
 
 
Bad Bunnye   *~*  ^-^


----- Original Message ----
From: Harold Tolliver <ironrogerflint.harold at gmail.com>
To: elfsea at lists.ansteorra.org
Sent: Friday, May 2, 2008 6:25:11 PM
Subject: [Elfsea] Greetings from Iron Roger Flint

I am the hairiest, meanest, axe swinging pirate to sail the Seas of the Elves.

The Bad Bunnye shivers in terror when I call her name. 

And Girl Children swoon and fight to be with me when I am around. 

So beware the coming of Iron Roger Flint. 






_______________________________________________
Elfsea mailing list
Elfsea at lists.ansteorra.org
http://lists.ansteorra.org/listinfo.cgi/elfsea-ansteorra.org
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.ansteorra.org/pipermail/elfsea-ansteorra.org/attachments/20080502/03be5ef9/attachment-0003.htm>


More information about the Elfsea mailing list