[NR] The Black Lotus

Pukhta 'Pooky' Lovtsevich pookyloves at gmail.com
Sat Dec 15 04:23:50 PST 2012

<Upon a dock strewn with mooring and shrouded in a thick unnatural
haze of bone chilling foggy doom a monster of a figure ambles forward
upon barnacle bottomed timbers that grown and snap and ache when
trodden by the percussion of his heavy footfall>

"Ahay! MacNamara!"

<The Black Lotus sways and yaws even more profoundly, as sails succumb
to the bellowing voice...>

"Avast ye' Dread Pyrate Lord Duncan MacNamara!!! Stand you aboard!?!"

<... as the sea begins to boil with recognition of its Master's All
Powerful Will.>

{ The unmistakable figure of foe/friend ambles to the stern as though
to take in the view of the starry celestial map or perchance to ponder
the soft-supple bellies, now manifest in the pale-pregnant moon, he
has experienced in the countless ports of a countless sea}

*and I think: ...there he be... the man who provided me the deck upon
which I could convey The~Love, the man who polished one of the few
Facets of The DREAM within which I can still see my soul, the man whom
shall sale or sink the Ansteorran Royal Navy into future annuls of
Kingdom lore, and there he is ...just gazing upon the stars and the
moon all the while knowing everything upon which they shine is his for
the taking...

"MacNamara, you old salt! Be a good Captain and invite Your old
drummer on board for a regaling story and a thimble of rum."

< He stands still looking to the stars as though mapping the next
bounty of gold laden treasure to be claimed on a planet some still
argue is as flat as a platter... and at the moment the words leave my
breath that damnable seagull of his who likely ate more of my rations
then I when I served on the Lotus, lopes off its aft on heavy air and
like a lazy buzzard expends five flaps to traverse the distance to
bomb its greasy shat where I stand... >

{ Uncanny, The Dread Pyrate of the North - The once Captain of the
Flagship of the Ansteorran Royal Navy - The future of Ansteorra's
Fleets destiny or demise appears to glimmer his intent from the stars
and turns to go back into the belly of the fastest ship on any sea;
without a word spoken or a hint of recognition given, lest the token
from that damnable bird..."

Respect and Loving Gratitude,
Honorable Baron Puktha Lovtsevich ~ Executive Officer of the
Ansteorran Royal Navy (and in deeper & darker waters Plenipotentiary
Drummer of the Iron Lotus)

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