Kumpania Painted Wheel

Dukkering, Chapter Four: Gypsy Gold by Baron Bardulf

2010-06-18T17:47:00.000-07:00

“Well, what do you remember?” Katherine hovered close.

“The woman gave me something to drink in a beat-up old goblet. She said it was a potion that would protect me. I was cautioned to drink it slowly. It had an odd taste, very sweet and bitter at the same time.”

“As soon as I touched the goblet, everything shifted, it all was so clear and transparent - no, that’s not it. It was as if I became transparent. Nothing came from me, it all came through me from somewhere else. I had no fear, no thoughts, and nothing to remember…”

“Everything was revealed to him - I spared him nothing. When I turned up the 'Tower' card, I saw it all - betrayal, torture, disgrace, and death by fire. To his credit, I saw him flinch only once.”

“The infidel would escape - but just barely… I told her where to hide something. If she did so, the old woman would win her freedom before she too died.”

“That’s the last thing I can remember before I woke up here.”

Dulcy’s voice trailed off. “I’ve tried over and over to recall what I said, but I just can’t. The memories keep going through my head like a song. I know the melody, but I can’t remember the lyrics.”

Katherine interrupted gently. "I was thinking about that gold...."

"Yeah, me too. I already know what you're going to say." Dulcinaya smiled sadly. "I know they meant well, but they might as well have filled my purse with rocks. We can't do anything with that gold - it’s worthless. You and I must keep it hidden and never tell a soul. If that wealth became known, every cutthroat in God’s creation would hunt us down."

"Besides, I’m a dirt-poor gypsy. Can you imagine me telling a judge that two strangers that nobody else saw drugged me and then stuffed my purse with ten gold florins?”

“It’s not hard to imagine at all. After he enjoyed a good laugh, the judge would hang the whole Kumpania as thieves." Katherine scowled, as if to recall an odd memory. “I didn’t think of it until now, but there’s one more thing. Elphin told me that when he pulled your face off the table, you opened your eyes for a moment and said one word before passing out again.”

“What did I say?”

“Rosslyn” Katherine eyed Dulcy quizzically. “Got any idea what it means?”

Dulcinaya pondered a moment and shrugged. “No - not a clue.”

© 2010 Baron Bardulf

Clean, no holes or skid marks , size M 32-34

2010-06-08T22:24:00.001-07:00

Okay, ya'll. Seriously, nobody is gonna claim these? Don't be shy about it, they are nice undies.

These were found in the upstairs of the garage, so it would stand to reason they got lost when we were all swimming and using the garage as a changing room.

However, it is possible that they went missing as long ago as maybe Twelfth Night, and migrated up to the garage loft with the new storm windows while the house renovations were going on. That's a possibility, too.

Nobody has claimed them, so now we are just being mean about it and posting somebody's underwear on the internet because we are a nasty lot. I reckon you all will damn straight keep track of your flimises after this, eh?

Dukkering, Chapter Three: Soldier of Fortune by Baron Bardulf

2010-05-25T17:45:00.000-07:00

After a candle had been placed in a window, the sound of a carriage could be heard outside. A man and a woman entered and surveyed what was before them. Although they were dressed like commoners, their disguises failed instantly.

He was old and bearded but presented himself with the calm, rock-solid demeanor of a seasoned warrior. He was a man born to command armies, yet there was a sense of earthy humility about him. He expected obedience and devotion, not out of pride, but simply because that was the natural order of things.

Although she too carried the weight of many years, the woman was unlike her companion. The dark skin and eyes bespoke a Turk, or perhaps a Moor. While it was clear that the other four men beheld her with respect and awe, fear was easily seen behind their regard. They took pains never to look her in the eyes.

“Are we alone?”

“Yes Sire - as you have ordered, there are none here but the gypsy woman.”

"Take your men outside. Stay in the shadows, remain unseen and allow no one to enter."

"Sir Tancred..." The ice in the woman's voice halted them. "...that doesn't mean you can kill some unlucky wretch."

When the door shut, the old man glared at the woman beside him.

"I'll thank you not to address my men in that way. Tancred's a fine knight..."

"- and a damned sorry excuse for a monk. Have you forgotten what he did to those poor bastards at Caesarea? They had laid down their weapons and yet he slaughtered them.”

The man shrugged off the reproach and turned his attention to Dulcinaya.

“So that’s her, eh? - that gypsy?”

“Don’t make light of the humble; she is a powerful seer.”

“How did you learn of that knave’s ‘talents’?”

“I have my own gifts.”

He gave the old woman a look of barely contained disgust. “I’ve had enough of your foul arts.”

“I didn’t choose to be what I am - and neither did she.”

The man strode across the room and stood before Dulcinaya’s table.

"Now then…” He placed his fists on the table-board and leaned closer. “…tell me my future with those cards and we'll be done."

"Cards?” Dulcy’s eyes opened wide with sudden panic. “Oh, you mean these? Fortune telling?? N-N-Never M'Lord!!! I'll not do such a loathsome thing! These cards are for clever tricks, idle amusements, games of chance, sleight of hand...."

“There! - you see? Here is your great oracle! This miserable creature has confessed herself to be a fraud. We’re done here! I’m through with this nonsense.”

"Stop it, Jacques. You’re scaring her. She thinks you're a witch-hunter."

"Me, a witch-hunter? Of that you must have no fear." He looked at the older woman with a wry smile. "I've already found all the witchcraft I can deal with."

“Pray, be seated.” The woman took her place at the end of the table while “Jacques” made a great show of sullen resignation and sat opposite Dulcinaya. “You must forgive the old dog.” Her voice hinted at affection. “He’s a soldier. Oft-times he forgets that not everyone must jump when he barks.”

The woman’s demeanor shifted. The dark eyes beheld the gypsy with a serious and uncompromising regard. “I now ask for your service…and above all…your trust.”

She reached beneath her cloak and unfastened a leather pouch that hung from a belt.

“NO!” He rose to his feet and bellowed. “I FORBID IT!!”

“You can’t stop me. Accept that…”

“You don’t dare…you wretch! Have you forgotten your oath?”

“Spare me the lecture - I’m not one of your acolytes."

“If you defy me….”

“Even in my defiance I will honor my oath. I pledged you my service - not my obedience! When you spared my life at Antioch, I gave my vow to you. In Jerusalem I accepted the burden that you placed upon me. I have served you like no other.”

“If it’s any comfort to you, you were my last choice.”

“I was your only choice. Only I could bear its touch without going mad. How many of your men paid dearly for that knowledge? I’ve often marveled at my fate. How can it be that only an infidel woman can hold and possess the object that all of Christendom desires?"

The dark eyes grew cold.

"Mark my words, you fool! You and your knights are too rich, too powerful, and too proud. The whirlwind is coming, Jacques. I can feel it, but I cannot see it! It will soon be upon us and it may already be too late. The gypsy is your only hope."

The old man looked at the woman. His eyes searched her as one who was grasping for a shred of trust.

"Please believe me." Her voice softened. "If there were any other way........"

Jacques slowly regained his seat. “May God forgive me for this.”

The woman opened the pouch and produced a well-worn goblet and cruet.

© 2010 Baron Bardulf

Dukkering, Chapter Two: The Gypsy Trap by Baron Bardulf

2010-05-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

Life would slow down after All Hallows Day. The harvest was done and the farmers had plenty of idle time and idle money. On a cold night, they would find their way into the tavern. The lure of a warm fire, the company of friends and perhaps some spiced wine would prove irresistible.

Dulcy usually set herself up in the fire-side corner of the public room. An azure tablecloth, two borrowed candles and some scattered herbs would set the stage. There she would hold court like a ragged gypsy mage-queen.

In that corner, magic reigned and a ha’penny or other petty coin would buy a peek at whatever the future held. While a palm reading was best for some queries, the cards were Dulcinaya’s favorite.

Theatrics were the enchantment of the game. Each card was revealed slowly and teasingly. The turn of a card brought forth a look of grave concern, feigned shock, or perhaps surprised delight. The secret to dukkering was to answer each question with yet another question. Thus a heart’s desires would be laid bare. When a few more cards were shown, there would be a raised eyebrow, a knowing glance, or perhaps a conspiratorial wink and a sly smile. Whispering a vague prophecy somehow made it all seem true.

However, this Sabbath’s Eve had been a wretchedly slow night, and there was naught but three pence in her purse to show for it.

It was near closing time. A few farmers argued drunkenly as to what next year’s market would bring. Off in the other corner there were four strangers who drank and kept mostly to themselves. One could overhear the usual debate concerning the vagaries of gambling, the fickleness of women, or the merits of one horse over another. By the look of them, they were likely nothing more than sell-swords.

“Tis Sabbath Eve, gentlemen, and midnight is upon us - we must bid all a good night.” The serving wench made her usual announcement to no one in particular. The farmers downed the last of their grog and ale while gathering their cloaks. The four in the corner didn’t so much as lift their cups. The wench went over to their table. “There’s an inn less than a league north of here. I’m sure you gentlemen will find a night’s rest there.” They kept their seats and said nothing as the last of the farmers left the tavern. “Surely you'll not break the Sabbath? There’ll be hell to pay if the Vicar finds out that you were sitting here with an ale in your hand past midnight.”

“What about the gypsy?” One of the men queried.

“I let her stay because she helps me clean up. Now out with all of you! None of you look like the sort who will sweep floors.”

“Sit down and be silent, woman.”

“I’ve no patience for your nonsense. I’ve got work to do. Now get out!”

The man stood up and towered over the wench. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

He turned to the other three and gave orders…"You guard the door - and keep the gypsy in her seat. Search the larder and kitchen - make sure no one else is here.”

The brute held the trembling woman's face before his.

"Leave this place, tell no one what you have seen, and do not return until sunrise. If you disobey, the gypsy..." He glanced in Dulcinaya's direction. "...will be found feeding the crows in a field somewhere. Do you understand?"

The wench gave a terrified nod and fled the tavern.

"Give the signal that it's safe to enter."

© 2010 Baron Bardulf

Dukkering, Chapter One: Consciousness by Baron Bardulf

2010-05-05T17:23:00.000-07:00

Consciousness, when it arrived, simply hurt.

Maybe the damned priest was right.....I am bound for Hell...
That the rhythm of pain kept pace with a heartbeat and thus gave evidence of life blessed her with an odd sort of comfort.

The gray peace of oblivion enfolded once again......

"HOW'S THE DRUNK?"

A blast of cold air invaded the lungs and dragged her once more amongst the living. Dulcinaya rose upon one elbow and faced the open door. Squinting through a single blood-shot eye, she discerned Elphin's silhouette.

She gave him a terse description of how his ancestor's unfortunate mating choices had cursed this land with his existence. He smirked, shook his head and slammed the door with malicious effort.

"God-damned gadjos - why do I keep taking in every stray dog?"

"Go easy on him. When you didn't come home on Sunday morn, Elphin went to fetch you. The rest of us thought nothing of it - after all, it wouldn't be the first time you and the serving wench got snockered after hours." Katherine spoke gently. "Elphin carried you all the way from the tavern by himself. He swears he didn't drop you on your head more than twice."
"Where am I?"

"You're in your own bed. You're safe - now shut up and lie down."

Katherine pressed a cold rag against Dulcy's forehead.

"By the way, Morwenna says you're not drunk and you don't have a hangover - you've been drugged."

"Mow....who?"
"Mor-Wen-Nah... remember her? She's another stray-dog gadjo you took in recently. That 'dog' has been with you ever since Elphin brought you in - she left only after I threatened to throw her out."
Dulcinaya took a deep breath and held her eyes shut.

"Whenever I can eat again, I'd like a large plate of crow."

"Save the humility. We all know you're not well."

"How did Morwenna know that I was drugged?"

Katherine remained silent and only raised an eyebrow - a prudent woman never revealed where such knowledge came from.

"Leave those things to the healers."
Dulcy rolled upright, sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.

"Morwenna said to give this to you when you were strong enough. She said it would help clear your head."

Dulcy gave the potion a sniff and recoiled. That was followed by a tentative sip.

"Augggh! This stuff is awful!

"Drink it, it's good for you."
"Drink it? - I'd sooner kiss a pig's........."

"Aysha's sow just had a litter. I'll fetch one for you - got any preferences?"

When presented in that manner, the correct choice was obvious. Dulcinaya took a few deep breaths, steeled herself and downed the entire dose in a single gulp. Her eyes bulged as the cup shattered on the floor.

"Oh - My - Gawd." The words were forced out between croaking gasps.

"You were supposed to sip it, dammit."

"Yeah, thanks for telling me. I hope that was fun to watch."

Katherine placed a finger to her lips to compel silence and gave a quick glance about to make sure there were no others present.

"After Morwenna told me you had been drugged, I was pretty sure that you had been robbed." Katherine leaned close and spoke in a low voice. "As soon as she left, I looked to see if there was anything in your purse."
" - Bet it was kind of empty, eh? - At least I know the bastards didn't get much..."

"- Shut up and let me finish. When I emptied your purse onto the table there were three coppers.."

"- So what? That's just about all I ever have....."

"... and ten gold florins..."
Katherine waited until the shock began to fade from Dulcinaya's face.

"Close your mouth, you look like a fish."

"Y'know, sometimes your sense of humor really gets on my nerves....."

"I wasn't joking and you have some explaining to do. What happened at the tavern?"

"I'm having trouble remembering anything from last night. Hell, when I woke up, I didn't recognize my own vardo."

"It didn't happen last night. Today is Monday - you've been unconscious for a whole day."
Dulcinaya collapsed back onto the bed and wrapped the pillow around her head.

"Gimme some time, this may take a while to piece together."

The Raptor's Tale, Part Three: by Cap'n Jack Black of Flint

2010-04-04T17:38:00.001-07:00

After BlackJack’s meeting with Madame Sylvie, he walked through the compound to the stables. Once there, he prepared his horse for the long ride back to Calais. It didn’t take long for him to finish saddling the horse, and he was off. As he approached the gate, Madame Sylvie was there waiting for him. Standing on a small carriage boarding platform, she watched him approach. Watching her watch him, he realized that while somewhat diminutive, she was probably the single most powerful woman in France. She stood there, regally, in her long flowing gown, red shot through with gold, in the current fashion in the courts of England and France. The hat that protected her from the sun was tilted low over her brow, with the gold feathers sweeping back over the deep blood red wrappings around her hair. He pulled up his horse at the platform.

“My lady Sylvie,” he nodded. “I am honored that ye’ve chosen to see me off, but tis not necessary. I do know my way out.” He laughed, and turned back over his shoulder as he heard hooves clattering behind him. Two proud percheron stallions were pulling a carriage forward towards the platform. Sylvie turned and smiled sweetly, as he moved his horse to one side, so that the carriage could be pulled to the platform.

“Do not over flatter yourself, my dear Captain. I happen to have business in Calais myself, so shall accompany you on the afternoon’s journey to the city. After all, I have a ship load of cargo to get to my factors to be sold and profited from.” She smiled again. “You DO want a share of the profit, don’t you? If I can get the items sold before you put to sea, you may be able to use the funds on your current mission.” I also wish to acquire some sort of messaging system, possibly some pigeons, for you to keep me informed of your progress.”

“Unfortunately, Sylvie, pigeons are of no value once we cross the ocean, exceptin as food.” He chuckled as she made a face. “Ye’ve no issue with eatin birds here in yer home, but do with us doin the same at sea? I thought ye were better than that, lass. Ye’d be a bit surprised at what we usually eat whilst at sea.”

Sylvie boarded the carriage, and it rolled towards the gate before she spoke again. As BlackJack pulled his horse alongside her window so that they could speak as they traveled, she began again. “You know better than most the struggle to survive I have had, Jack. I shall speak frankly, and remind you that while I have worked my way to learning the ways of a Courtesan, and now run the largest and most popular house in France, I have lived in the streets.” She plucked at the white lace around her neck. “You know that when I was born, my fate was to be much worse than this. The fact that I have turned my adversity into a successful life, much as you have done yourself, shows the type of people we are. I know the nuns at your orphanage in London would never recognize you, just as any family of mine that may still be alive would not recognize me. Many things change every day, people live and die, and only those who are in control of their lives can be happy. It’s my personal belief that many of my ladies who serve in the Noble houses here in Calais, and even in Paris and Marseilles, are among the most intelligent, most skilled, and quickest thinking of many of the men who are in charge of those same houses. You know that is why my ladies go through all the training they do. They know how to read and write multiple civilized languages, they can cook, sew, know mathematics, and more. And that is not even counting the more “gentle” skills that each learn to keep their men happy. Do not even BEGIN to lecture me on what your life is like, because you will find no sympathy from me, Captain.” With that, she closed the blinds on her window, and did not speak again. BlackJack shrugged and rode ahead.

Four hours later, a tired and sore BlackJack finally saw the city walls of Calais in the distance. Turning around, he rode back the short distance to the carriage following him. Pulling along the carriage, he spoke as formally as he could. “Madame Sylvie, we are approaching Calais. If you have no further need of me, I shall be on my way to check on my ship. Most likely we shall sail on the morning tide. I shall send word as often as is possible as to our status.”

The curtain slid aside, and Sylvie peered out. “Very well, I shall endeavor to get whatever I can to you by the time you put to sea. I wish you luck in dealing with Sir Francis Drake, and hope that you are able to escape Queen Elizabeth’s noose.” As he turned his horse to depart, she called again. “BlackJack! I apologize for speaking in anger as I did earlier. These are dangerous times, and I would be unhappy if the last we spoke to each other in this world were words of anger. I bear you no ill will, and sincerely hope that we shall continue to be friends for many years to come.”

A grin split BlackJack’s beard as he replied, “No worries lass, I understand. You’re a woman, yer very nature is to be contrary as hells. Seriously, though, I accept your apology, and offer me own as well. As usual, my words came out afore me brain could think about what I was sayin. Nothin new there, I’m sure you know. This Drake thing has me a bit on edge, and am wantin to be to sea as quick as I can.” He then nodded to her, and spurred his horse to a gallop towards the city wall.

Shortly thereafter, he stopped at the inn where he first met Magnus the evening before. Handing the horse over to a stable boy along with a gold coin, he walked inside. He walked straight to the Innkeeper, and put two gold pieces on the bar. “I’m in need of a couple of things, lad. Gimme what I need, and these be yours. First, I need to know if any have been around askin questions about me.” When the innkeeper shook his head, still watching the coins, BlackJack shoved one towards him. Keeping his hand on the other, she spoke again. “Question number two. Have ye ever seen me, or know which way The Raptor be headin?” The man, numbly reaching for the coin, shook his head again as he spoke.

“I ain’t never heard of BlackJack Flint, or The Raptor, so can’t tell anyone who ye are or where ye went.” BlackJack laughed, handed over the coin, and walked out.

Shortly thereafter, he was climbing the gangplank to his ship, and started shouting as he came aboard. “Mr. Thomas! I need a report, now! All officers, in my cabin, immediately! Bosun, make preparations to set sail with the mornin tide! All hands, hop to, and MOVE!” Men immediately began scrambling about as he went below to his cabin, to begin to prepare his next move, and discuss the situation with his officers.

Once the officers were gathered, he poured himself a drink, and looked about the room. “Well lads, we’ve done it again. That ship we took on the way to Lisbon has turned out to cause us an issue. Well, it turns out that the fop that died when we took her was some relation to Elizabeth. Now word has reached me that Drake is hunting us, with orders to bring me to Elizabeth. Magnus wasn’t sure as of last night if that’s a dead or alive thing, or what. We’ll be settin sail in the mornin, and headed south. Me intent is to get around Good Hope as quick as we can, and lie low near Singapore for a bit. Maybe we can avoid him, or if we’re REALLY lucky, the sea will sink him at the Cape, and not us. Now, here’s where we see what’s what. Mr. Thomas, I need to know how our provisions are for the journey. I also need to know the condition of the ship, were ye able ta get divers over this mornin ta inspect? And finally, how many of the crew made it back to the ship this mornin?”

Mr. Thomas stood and began his report. “We’ve got enough provisions on board to last us about 3 weeks currently. With what we can get on board tonight, we should be able to extend that to a month. We have enough powder and shot for the cannons and small arms for several battles, if need be. Divers are over the side now, and should have a report on the hull shortly. As soon as I get it, I will let you know. Inspections on board are revealing no major leaks, the few small ones have been or are in the process of being repaired now. We have reports of two crewmen having gotten themselves arrested last night, and one was found floating in the harbor shortly afore you arrived. I think that about covers everything as you requested at this time.”

“Very good, Mr. Thomas,” BlackJack replied. Turning to the rest of the officers, he asked, “Do any of ye have anything further to add?” Looking around the room to negative responses, he turned back to Mr. Thomas. “Then ye have yer orders, lads, let’s get ready to heave to. Mr. Thomas, keep an eye out, Madame Sylvie said she’s goin ta attempt to get us our cut of the Pride’s cargo profits afore we leave in the mornin. She knows our first stop is going to be Lisbon, and Magnus will have information for us there, or one of his operatives will be there. Dismissed, gentlemen.” The men all got up and left BlackJack to his thoughts, as he sipped his whiskey and stared out the windows of his cabin.

© 2010 Jack Black of Flint

The Raptor's Tale, Part Two: by Cap'n Jack Black of Flint

2010-04-04T17:36:00.000-07:00

The sun was just beginning to set as The Raptor’s crew secured the harbor pilot’s skiff to the side. Cap’n “Black” Jack Flint, Lord and Master of the ship, extended a hand to the short, heavy set man climbing the ladder up to the deck.

“Here ye be, lad, lemme give ye a hand,” Flint spoke quietly as he pulled the man on deck. “Welcome aboard me ship, lad, now, tell me who ye are?”

In a snooty tone, the man looked at Flint and spoke. “I am Sebastien Philippe de La Havre, Harbor Master for His Royal Majesty, King Henry IV, and I demand to know who YOU are, coming into my harbor on the evening tide. Protocol dictates that you shall wait the night outside the port, and have your ship brought in on the morning tide.”

Flint grinned and replied, “Ye obviously were’na listenin, lad, since I told ye who I was. But since ye seem ta be a bit thick headed, I’ll say it again. I be Captain BlackJack Flint, this is me ship. I’m in Calais on business, and I’ll be thankin ye ta get me ship ta the docks, so that I can get ABOUT me business. The ladies waitin fer me don’ like ta be kept waitin.”

De La Havre looked at Flint and asked, “Just who would you have business with at this hour of the night? There are NO good businesses open after sundown, so you MUST be up to trouble!”

“If’n ye REALLY wanna know, me business be with the Maison de la Rouge. I’m fairly certain ye’ve heard of them, and I KNOW King Henry has. So, if’n ye please, get yer pudgy arse up to the wheel, and tell me helmsman where I can put me damned ship, afore I get angry, cut yer damned throat, and toss ye overboard now!”, Flint growled in a low, menacing tone. The man yelped, and ran to the wheel, to aid Mr. Bradley in docking the ship. Flint chuckled softly and winked at his first mate, Mr. Thomas, over the harbor master’s head. “Amazin just what kind of power Madame Sylvie’s name has, isn’t it, lads?”

Two hours later, with the ship safely secured to the pier, Flint was giving orders to Mr. Thomas. “All right lad, I’m taking a small chest with a sampling of the jewels and cloth to Madame Sylvie. Keep the rest secure and dry, and I am willin ta bet that she’ll have a cart here tomorrow sometime to get the rest. Keep the mid and day watches aboard, liberty for the rest. Standard port rules apply, no booze or women aboard, and start checkin fer damage to both the ship and provisions in the morn.” Thomas saluted, and Flint walked down the gangplank, chest under his left arm.

Walking down the pier, Flint noticed a shadow in a doorway. He casually dropped a throwing blade from a hidden sheath into his palm. As he got within range to throw, the shadow spoke. “Stay yer blade, brother. It’s me, Magnus.” The shadow stepped forward, and it was as if the shadows themselves took form.

Magnus Pale, as he was known, was a wiry man, known for his expertise at gathering information, as well as more “artistic” talents. “Madame Sylvie sent me to watch fer ya. There’s strange things afoot, brother, I suggest we away quickly. I’ve already sent a coded message to yer Mr. Thomas advising him to prepare to put to sea as quickly as possible. I’ve horses this way.” Pale moved quickly towards a small alcove between two buildings, leading out two saddled horses. Flint began to secure the chest behind his saddle as he spoke.

“A’right Magnus, what the bloody hell is goin on? I’ve not even been in port two hours, and a’ready I’m in trouble? Even I am not THAT good.” And then a thought struck him. “The Elizabeth’s Pride. Bloody hell, that damned clumsy captain was related to someone important, wasn’t she????” The two men began to ride towards the south gate before Magnus spoke again.

“Ye know, BlackJack, all the years I’ve known ye, I’ve never known ye to make a move that stupid. Ye took out a ship belonging to the Queen of England, and killed one of her royal cousins.” Magnus raised a hand to cut off complaint, and continued. “That man was apparently one of Elizabeth’s favorite cousins, whom she thought highly of. Now the word is that her pet Privateer, Sir Francis Drake is after ye. I’ve orders ta get ye to the Maison de la Rouge, and let ye discuss things with Sylvie. Now let’s get out of here, while the gold I paid the guards at the gate to let us by is still worth somethin!”

With that, both men put their heels to horse, and galloped through the dark streets of Calais, into the night.

After about two hours of hard riding to the south and east, the men slowed the horses to a walk. Flint thought a few moments, then addressed Magnus again. “Tell me, brother, what news of the House? Business is well, I hope? I’m not goin ta get attacked by Sylvie’s brutes when I walk in there, am I?”

Magnus laughed heartily. “And what if they do, my brother? You know as well as I do that every single one of them was trained by the two of us sittin here, and I know full well ye didna show them ALL yer tricks, just as I held back as well. We’ve been livin this life far too long to expect anyone to not try to stab us in the back. And now, I’ve other duties, ye know the way from here, I wager?”

“Aye, lad. Straight on til mornin. Even I can’t get lost here… I’ve made this journey too many times. I’ll see ye after?”

“Aye, BlackJack. After. No worries about the cart, the arrangements have been made, the rest of the goods for the house should be offloaded and on their way by dawn. Tell Sylvie that she should expect the rest of the goods in two days. Try to stay outta trouble, a’right?” Magnus turned his horse, waved, and rode off into the darkness. Flint continued on his way to his final stop for the evening.

The sunrise found a tired dirty man approaching a large mansion, set in the middle of nowhere, on a lane lined with shade trees. As he saw the mansion grow in his vision, he pulled himself up straighter in the saddle, attempting to look more awake than he felt.. As he got within range, Flint could make out the bowmen on the roof, as well as the slack way that the men at the gate were only half watching him. Chuckling softly, Flint dropped his throwing knife from it’s hidden sheath yet again, knowing he was going to get to use it this time.

As he got into throwing range, one guard finally took notice of him, too late. The guard never even saw Flint move, and found his right shoulder pinned to the wooden door he was leaning against. The second guard quickly found himself in a similar predicament, as he was also pinned. Flint then quickly jumped from the saddle, drawing a pistol in his left hand, and cutlass in his right.

“Now, lads, I know ye were taught better than that. Why in the hells are ye sittin here letting yerself be taken so easily? This isn’t what Madame Sylvie pays ye for, is it? Or are ye getting lazy with the knowledge that yer Mistress be getting so powerful that most think it folly ta attack her?” Both men looked at each other, and didn’t answer. Flint laughed, and continued. “Do ye not even recognize the man who trained ye both? I realize it’s been nigh on a year since I’ve been gone, but do ye both have rocks in yer skulls?”

At the last statement, the doors began to open, dragging the stuck guards with it. Flint laughed at the two tripping over their feet as they were dragged into the grounds. As the doors came fully open, Flint found himself face to face with Madame Sylvie’s Housecarl.

“Captain, I see you have made it here safely, including your usual theatrics. Madame Sylvie is waiting for you in the main lounge. Breakfast will be there shortly as well. However, looking at and smelling you, I think a bath and clean clothes would be in order first. I shall tell Madame Sylvie that you are delayed.” The Housecarl clapped his hands, and servants came forward. Two stable boys quickly took the horse towards the stables, while a third handed the chest from behind the saddle to Flint. “I shall take that to Madame Sylvie, so that she may inspect the contents whilst you are in your bath, Captain.” Flint, knowing he would not win this battle, chose silence, handing over the chest, and allowing two more servants to lead him to the bathing area.

Two hours later, Flint found himself freshly scrubbed, shaved, and in clean clothes. He walked into Madame Sylvie’s main lounge, feeling quite relaxed. As he approached, he saw Sylvie sitting at the large round table, the chest he carried in front of her.

“Madame Sylvie,” Flint spoke, as he knelt, kissing her hand. “It does my heart good to see you well. I trust ye’ve had few problems in my absence? Magnus was as norm, maddeningly short on details.” He then took a seat next to her, which seemed to be the cue for servants to bring out platters of steaming eggs, sausage, croissants, and tea. Flint fell to with a will, piling food on the plate in front of him, while he waited for Sylvie to speak.

“It has been some time since you last graced our halls, Captain, and it is quite apparent that your manners have not improved with time. I know when last you were with us, we had finally gotten you to start using utensils properly. It would appear that your time at sea with your men has caused a reversion of your old habits. However, if the rest of your cargo meets the quality of the sample you have brought with you, we shall once again, be able to do business. Magnus gave me assurances that the rest of the delivery should be here by tomorrow latest, having arranged for the porters to remove it from your ship and onto the wagons during the night. Now, when you are done eating, we can discuss the more important issues that face you now. Of that business, one would have to consider Sir Francis Drake to be of your highest priority. Unfortunately, due to your current situation, you will be unable to see the others, as you will be leaving as soon as we are concluded here. I have already arranged with my merchants at the pier to give Mr. Thomas whatever he needs to get your ship ready for a month at sea, and for the bill to come to me. With the materials coming, it will be some time before I will be able to pay you your share, so I shall take payment for the stores out of that money. I hope you understand and can agree with this arrangement?”

Pouring them both a cup of tea, Flint leaned back in his chair. “Well, Madame, it would appear that ye’ve the advantage in our dealings this day. Whilst I agree with ye, that I must need put to sea quickly, I will trust that our previous business arrangements will set the tone of our futures, and that you will deal fairly. We’ve known each other too long, since before you started this household, and know too much about each other to hurt each other. Even Magnus doesn’t know the full extent of what we have done for each other in the past. Some secrets of yours I will take to the grave, as I gave my oath. That said, you are right, I must put out to sea quickly, but I need information first. I’m told that the “Elizabeth’s Pride” captain was a favored cousin of Queen Elizabeth herself, and that she has sent her fop after me.” Sylvie nodded, and he continued. “What I need now, is to know his last known position, and any and all information concerning how he is currently traveling. Single ship, fleet, how many guns and crew he has. I need to determine what is going to be better, to attempt to hide, or take the battle to him.”

Sylvie took her cup of tea, and nodded. “I will attempt to get the information you need. You are right, Drake is a fop, but he is one of the most dangerous fops on the seas, from all accounts. His victories seven years ago against the Spanish will live forever.”

Flint thought for a few moments, and made his decision. “Okay, if you can get the information about Drakes fleet, I would appreciate it. Use Magnus’ network, and have it waitin for me when I get to Lisbon. I don’t really want ta be sailin along the English coast right now, but if I can get enough of a lead, that will help. Also, let word get to Drake that I am runnin fer the Cape of Good Hope. Just give me three days head start a’fore ye leak that information, if’n ye please. I think if the ship’s ready ta sail when I get there, we can put out immediately. It’ll take the better part of a week to get to Lisbon this time of year, but if we can get enough of a lead on Drake, we might be able to take him, and rid the world of him.”

Sylvie looked at Flint, and sighed. “If you think that this is your best course of action, then I shall wish you luck. I think that mayhaps you are overreacting, but I have yet to get all of the information back on how close Elizabeth was to this cousin you killed. I shall pass your regrets to the others who wished to see you, as I do agree, you needs be off immediately. Magnus or one of his most trusted will be in Lisbon awaiting your arrival, and will have the most current and accurate information I can get for you. Please do travel safely, and come back in one piece. You have been part of our enterprise here from the beginning, and I would take it as a personal insult if someone were to remove you from my employ. Take care, my captain, and know that all within the Masion de la Rouge wish you and your crew a safe journey.”

Flint stood, bowed, and began to walk away. Stopping at the door, he turned and grinned. “No worries, lass. If I’m destined to die at the hands of some fop, I’d have been killed years ago. I’ll take care of Drake, and come back with some silks and spices for you in the bargain!” He then spun on his heel and walked off.

© 2010 Jack Black of Flint

The New Baron Was No Fool: by Vincent

2010-03-09T10:59:00.000-08:00

The new Baron was no fool.

Had he only been told the toys were created by some of the talented artisans of Painted Wheel, and left at that, he would have been satisfied enough to believe it. It was the last bit, almost muttered, that gave him pause. “and Vincent”.

So there I was, called before Court, to defend myself from yet one more accusation of questionable acquisition practices. I asked to plea to the populace, my tongue being far too crude to taint the ears of the most noble wealthinesses before me.

“Who?” I stalled.

“Who among you would leave your cherished possessions unguarded for me to claim? Not one of you? Who would abandon their valuables with none but the most minimal of servants to lay watch upon?

Surely, finding this trove of toys in the hands of a mere child, toys I too was charged with providing for this Barony, mind you, was I to think it was not my right, nay my duty, to bring them forth where they could be properly protected and distributed to those more deserving, more cherishing, the good people here before me?”

I was on a rambling roll.

“And this most pathetic of guards, with their tiny little fingers clinging tightly, was no match for my superior strength, let me tell you.

‘Please m’ Lord’ they whimpered, ‘do not take away my toys’.

I pulled harder against their pleas, feeling their hands beginning to tremble under the strain. Unhand them said I.

‘These are the only things I have in all the world.’ they further cried.

Their grip was failing as we struggled on. Give them to me, demanded I.

And then…

And then,

They gave them to me. Yes. It was a gift. Given freely, as I have now given to all of you. A gift!”

“With only hope of but the most meager of tokens of appreciation” I muttered.

The new Baron was no fool.

© 2010 Vincent

The Raptor, Part One: by Cap'n Jack Black of Flint

2010-03-04T19:54:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting to get some persona stories from non Painted Wheel members as well as from members...after all, these are the people who populate our world, and all of them have great stories. BlackJack has taken me up on it. Thank you, Cap'n!

--Dulcy

The sun rises over the horizon in the distance. The Captain turns to the Mate at the bell, and says quietly, "Put the mid watch tae bed, and wake the day watch, Mr. Miller."

"Aye, Cap'n!" The Bosun brought a whistle to his lips, and began to sound the call. The Bosun's mates took up the whistle, calling down into the berthings for the day watch to come up.

"Mr. Miller, check with Cookie, and see if'n he can't safely light the galley fires, and get some hot food into these men. I'll be in me cabin if ye need me."

"Aye, Cap'n, will do so straight away. Do ye be havin a course in mind fer today?"

"Yes, make for Calais. I've a meeting with Madame Sylvie and the others coming up, and I would be remiss if I was to arrive late. However, if we stumble across a ship in need of salvage on the way, sing out!" With that, the Captain's wide grin split his close trimmed beard, and he went below.

"Black"Jack Flint, currently Captain of the Pirate Ship Raptor, went to his cabin, and sat at his desk, missing the chair as it slid out from underneath him. He had been captain of the ship for just under six months, and was still getting a feel for how she moved. "Blast!" Flint muttered to himself as he picked himself back up. Standing, he felt the ship turning hard to port. "What the devil is going on here?" he asked himself as he went to the door. At that moment, the cabin boy came in, and informed that there was a Merchant ship 2 points off the port bow, about a league off, and that Mr. Miller had given chase. "Very well, lad, inform the gun crews tae make ready, and tell Mr. Miller I will be up shortly." "Aye aye, Cap'n!" The dirty lad scampered off.

Flint arrived on the quarterdeck shortly thereafter, dressed in his traditional garb. Black tunic, knee breeches, and what his officers called "that ridiculous sash and head wrap", both of which were a bright vibrant purple. "Report, Mr. Miller!"

"Cap'n, we've a merchantman sitting low in the water, and I don't believe she's spotted us yet. We've got a good breeze pushing us towards her, and we're gaining fast. We should be able to take her fairly easily."

Flint grabbed a spyglass from the rack on the rail, and took a look. "Ye've been spotted now, Mr. Miller. She's flying every inch of sail she has, and ye're losing your lead. Mr. Bradley," Flint called to the pilot at the helm, "If you please, two points more to port, see if we can't regain some of that lead. We'll tack up a bit, and then see if we can't come back across, and rake her stern. Get the starboard gun crews loaded and ready to fire." Flint looked at the mast of the pursued ship. "Mr. Miller, can you make what colors she's flying?"

Miller looked again, and replied, "Looks like she's flying the Union Jack, sir."

"All right, then, fly the same, and see if we can't get them to slow down. Prepare our colors as well, to run up AFTER the first shots are fired. Don't run out the guns until I give the order."

Time crawled by as they gained on the ship. The tacking to port had helped to regain some lost ground, as well as having put up an extra sheet on the topsail. The Raptor was now in a fast pursuit, flying every inch of sail she could put on. "Mr. Miller, I believe you may now call full battle stations, and have the boarders begin their preparations. Mr. Golden!! Make ready to have the Port chasers send a warning shot across her as soon as you see our colors run up! Gun crews, as soon as Mr. Golden fires his warning shot, I want the starboard crews to run out! Port crews, stand by to assist reloading and aiming!"

Flint pulled the glass out again, and was judging the distance to the enemy ship. "What say you, Mr. Miller, I would put us at just over five hundred yards, yes?"

Miller took the glass, and made his own estimate. "Six hundred at the most, Cap'n. We should close to within five hundred in a moment."

Both men watched the ship grow larger as the distance closed. Then Flint called out, "Strike that Jack, and fly our true colors!!!! Mr. Golden, FIRE!!!!! Gun crews, run out and take aim! Go for the Rudder, if you can!!! We are still coming up on her stern. Reload as quickly as you can, with chain and make your second shots for her sheets!"

The Port chasers fired, as Captain Flint's personal colors went up, replacing the Union Jack that was on the mast. The enemy tried to heel over to break away, which was exactly what Flint was counting on. "GUN CREWS FIRE!!!" The sound of cannon fire could easily be heard over the pounding of the surf. Flint and Miller watched the enemy, to see what affect the Raptor's gun crews had, if any. Miller called out, "Her rudder's busted, Cap'n, it worked!!"

Flint shouted, "Boarders on deck! Helm, make ready to come alongside on her port. Mr. Golden, well done! Double load your guns to fire upon their crews as we pull up! Mr. Stone, if you please, have the quarterdeck guns follow the same order. Sweep their decks as we pull up, to reduce the risk to our boarders." The men shouted acknowledgement, and ran to carry out the orders.

The boarding parties swarmed on deck, with muskets on their backs, pistols and cutlasses and knives in their belts, and grapple lines in their hands. Flint smiled, and turned to Mr. Miller. "We've got another advantage, Mr. Miller. The wind just turned, and is now blowing her into us. On my order, reef all sails so as to not get tangled in theirs."

Miller nodded, and answered, "Aye aye, sir."

Flint turned to the helmsman. "We're ready whenever you are, Mr. Bradley."

"Aye, Cap'n, we be comin alongside now."

Flint looked, and replied, "Well done, lad, not a scrape to be heard! Grapples away, reef all sails, boarders, take her!!!!" The cabin boy arrived on deck with Flint's pistols, and cutlass. After belting his weapons on, he moved down to board the enemy ship.

Miller called out, "Cap'n she's ours! She's struck her colors, and they're surrendering!!!" A cheer went up throughout the ship.

Flint boarded, and headed for the quarterdeck, where he found his First Mate, Mr. Thomas, and several boarders surrounding the Officer staff of the taken ship, who all looked very unhappy. "Gentlemen, I be Captain "Black"Jack Flint, Captain of the ship Raptor. Who be the Captain here, and what ship is this?"

One of the officers stepped forward. "I am currently acting as captain, as your "Warning shot" took our captain's head off his shoulders. The man never knew what hit him. The ship is called Elizabeth's Pride."

Flint grinned insolently. "Well then, he didn't have tae worry about why his ship was taken so easily, did he? Gentlemen, I'll take yer swords and me men will take the rest of yer weapons. Soon as we can find a place to be settin ye ashore, we'll do so. Only thing I need from you lads is yer word that there'll be no trouble between here and there, or I shall have ye put over now, tae swim home."

The captured officers looked at each other, and shrugged. The "Acting" Captain spoke again. "This was our first voyage, and was supposed to be relatively easy. We left Port Jamaica a month ago, most of us having been there since we were young lads, and were returning to London with jewelry and gold for Queen Elizabeth, and goods to trade on the market."

"Well then, methinks this turned out to be a rather profitable voyage, after all. Methinks Madame Sylvie would be thrilled to have some new jewels, and of course I'll have tae be finding something nice for my Lady Ophelia, as well. Mr. Thomas, if you please, make sure you've got firm control of the ship, and pick some of your men to stay here with you, and we'll take you in tow until we make landfall." Flint turned to the Raptor. "Mr. Miller!" Flint shouted across the span.

"Aye, sir!" came the reply from the Raptor's quarterdeck.

"Mr. Miller, if you would be so kind, please tell me where the nearest spot of semi-hospitable land is fer us to set these men?" Miller left the side to go check the charts, and came back about fine minutes later.

"We can hit Lisbon in two days, on our way to Calais!"

"Fair enough!" Flint turned back to the captives. "Gentlemen, it looks like you're to be our guests for at least another two days, providing the weather holds, you'll have to find other passage home from Lisbon. No worries, I'm a gentleman, I'll not take anyone's personal monies or property, just what is on the Manifest, and anything else I find in the holds. Mr. Thomas, do ye have a Quartermaster among yer lot tae go over the manifests?" Thomas nodded in the affirmative. "Fair enough, then, set him to work, and I want copies of the Manifests before we hit Lisbon. Also, someone bring me the Captain's log, so that I might review it. I'll be returning to the Raptor as soon as I get the log, Mr. Thomas, so the ship will be yours."

"Aye aye, Cap'n."

A cabin boy arrived with the Ship's and Captain's personal logs, and Flint returned to the Raptor. "Mr. Miller, at your convenience, break us free of the Pride, and take her under tow. She's not goin much of anywhere with no rudder, is she? I'll be below reviewing these logs."

"Aye, sir, if anything comes up, we'll sing out."

Flint turned to go below, and stopped. "Oh, and Mr. Miller, an extra rum ration to the crew with dinner, with my thanks for a job well done today." The crew cheered the Captain as he went below.

The trip to Lisbon went smoothly, with no further problems. Captain Flint had decided that he wasn't going to sell the Pride, as she apparently was contracted with the Queen herself. Last thing he wanted at this point was that fop, Francis Drake chasing him all over the seas. Once the two ships arrived in Lisbon Port, Flint had all the cargo moved from the Pride to the Raptor, and sold off whatever he could get a good profit for. All the jewelry was kept for Madame Sylvie to go through first, for her and her ladies. Then she would have her people sell the rest of it, and Flint would get his share of the profits.

The Pride's crew was then released, and their officers had their weapons returned. Elizabeth's Pride was then allowed to put in for repairs to her rudder, and then back underway for London. The Raptor then set sail, seeking the next trophy on the way to Calais.

Congratulations!

2010-01-13T19:31:00.000-08:00

Well, well, well. Here is an exerpt from the Court Report from Twelfth Night in Rock Hill this past weekend:

AFTERNOON COURT
> (Master Bran Trefonnen was the primary herald)
>
> Several members of the Cyddlain Downs musical group “A Wake at the Wheel”
> were recognized.
> - Ivar Ulfsson received his Award of Arms.
> - Vincent D’orleans received his Award of Arms.
> - Katherine D’orleans received her Award of Arms.
> - Aysha of Cyddlain Downs received her Award of Arms.

Good job, folks. And as Ivar delightedly pointed out, they actually brought it to us. I guess they know of our habit of ducking court.

Anyways, thank you Morwenna, thank you Your Majesties, and thanks to everyone who came over to see these four be recognized. It really made the day special for us!

Latin Translations

2009-12-14T15:51:00.000-08:00

Not that I can read, especially Latin, but I can venture a guess what Dulcy may have hidden from us in her slyly encoded posts about our new members.

Geldamar - much wiser and better looking than his brother. Has lurked in the shadows of camp as long as I recall. Occasionally graces us by joining us by the fire for boisterous revelry if the lure is right.

Lady Etain - not to be taken lightly. As fierce a fighter as she is fiercely kind to her friends.

Narumi - beyond comprehension. Probably born in a foreign land and taken as a baby. Suspect ransom went horribly wrong, to our benefit. Has talents beyond mortals.

Sabin - shhhhhh. Don't tell anyone, but he also has marvelous hidden talents that beg to surface. May even be related to Narumi. Hoping to fence both off at high profit at the opportune time. Maybe to a traveling sultan.

vincent

12th Night Song List

2009-11-13T12:10:00.000-08:00

Okay, gang, in addition to our regular playlist, here are the list of holiday songs we are planning on adding to our repetoire.

We may not get to all of them, but we'll do our best. If anyone wants to swap out/add anything, make sure you do it in enough time that we can learn it.

See you at practice.

Dulcy

Oh Come All Ye Faithful (tee hee)
To Drive the Cold Winter Away (I think Katherine sings a slightly different version...I think her tune is a little different, but this is close enough to give you an idea. Plus, I like the guy's hat. )
Lo, How A Rose E're Blooming*
Coventry Carol
Seeds of Love
Gaudette
What Child Is This
Bring A Torch, Jeanette, Isabella
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

*may not get to

New Members!

2009-08-29T17:28:00.004-07:00

Sometimes, we have tribemates who aren't really members of Painted Wheel....but they pretty much are members and always have been.

Etain, Narumi, and Sabin are such members. We made it official at Pennsic and were sorry it took us so long to do it.

As for Geldemar, well....you know his brother Kazimir, being my own dear brother, of course, is a long-time member, but Geldemar himself was not. However, you know what they say: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. So we went ahead and made Geldemar an official member of the tribe, too. What the hell. ;-)

Sabin

2009-08-28T17:40:00.001-07:00

Shhhhhh. Don't tell anyone, but he also has marvelous hidden talents that beg to surface. May even be related to Narumi. Hoping to fence both off at high profit at the opportune time. Maybe to a traveling sultan.

Narumi

2009-08-28T17:40:00.000-07:00

Beyond comprehension. Probably born in a foreign land and taken as a baby. Suspect ransom went horribly wrong, to our benefit. Has talents beyond mortals.

Etain of Sutherland

2009-08-28T17:39:00.000-07:00

Not to be taken lightly. As fierce a fighter as she is fiercely kind to her friends.

Geldemar

2009-08-28T17:38:00.000-07:00

Much wiser and better looking than his brother. Has lurked in the shadows of camp as long as I recall. Occasionally graces us by joining us by the fire for boisterous revelry if the lure is right.

Rabies, Mud, and Palm Trees

2009-08-11T21:06:00.000-07:00

Well, no sooner am I back from Pennsic War up in Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania, but I had to take off to Isle of Palms here in South Carolina for a family gathering.

I had one whole day to do laundry. I started when I rolled out of bed Monday morning and didn't stop till I went to bed late that night.

I'm kind of sick of being inside a moving car. I'm just saying.

The week before that involved me getting bitten by a feral cat and the cat having to be quarentined for rabies observation. That's always a laff riot when you're already freaking out about driving a day and a half away from your kid. I didn't particularly want to have to send the cat to the shelter in the first place, nor was I all that interested in getting a call while I was that far away from home on vacation that I needed a a series of injections before I started foaming at the freaking mouth. Fun times.

In case you're curious, no, I don't have rabies.

So I'm typing this sitting in the kitchen of a rental house. At least here, I have Internet access, which I didn't have at Pennsic.

I used to go to Pennsic every year, but then I got sick and needed surgery, and then 10 months after that, I got pregnant, and then after that, my daughter was too small to leave...in other words, I had some adventures along the way and life intervened. Which is fine, it's been a great ride. But the husband decided that this year I needed to get out of the house, go reconnect with friends, and visit my old life a little bit.

Well, I was terrified. You'd think I would have wanted to go, and did. I wanted to go, but I didn't want to leave, if you understand me. If it hadn't been for a friend riding with me, and me being her only way there, I would have bailed out.

I have to tell you this...for the past six years, I've been having this dream about Pennsic. Those who have been to Pennsic know that Pennsic can pervade your very heart and soul, and while you may not be there at Pennsic, Pennsic never quite leaves you once it gets into you. My dream was this: I would be going to Pennsic just long enough to tell everyone I wouldn't be there. Just drop in and let everyone know (never mind that in reality, it takes me a day and a half to get there) I was sorry to be missing them again that year.

Yeah. I know, it's nuts, but hey, dreams don't always make sense.

When I showed up at the Pennsic gate this year, in a flash of crazy synchronicity, Cinderella's "Coming Home" started playing on the radio. And for at least a day or two, I could not shake the feeling I was dreaming again. Every time I'd been there for the past six years, it had been in a dream. Now that I was standing under the Pennsylvania sun, the Queen Anne's Lace waving in the breeze and the sticky, cow-manure scented mud cloying around my boots, I could not shake the feeling that I was once again dreaming. Although I had no message to deliver this time. This time, I didn't have to tell anyone I wasn't going to be coming.

So I walked down to the camp of a wonderful friend who I had never met. We'd been corresponding since the year I'd gotten sick. We'd talked on the phone and via email. She was one of the first people I told I was pregnant. I knew all about when her son went to Iraq, and when he returned. We were wonderful friends...we'd just never met.

I walked into her camp and she ran to me and it was like embracing a family member whom I'd been long separated from. That alone was worth the trip.

Yeah, I cried like a damn sap.

But then there was many others who I had yearned to give a hug or a handshake to, and old friends who I never imagined I'd be separated from so long to see. My week was a wonderful blur of connecting with friends old and new. I'll never take friends for granted again.

And for my daughter, who stayed home with her Daddy, well, she fared far better than I did during the week. Daddy kept her busy and the week sailed by for her. I was the one who cried on the phone while talking to her, not the other way around.

I'm glad I finally got to make my long trip. I was never so glad to have gone. And even so, I have never been so glad to return home.

I count my wealth by the love in my life. And I am filthy rich. Life is good.

-Dulcy

Painted Wheel, the Movie!

2009-07-21T21:22:00.001-07:00

Here's what happens when you get a bunch of egotists sitting around drinking all day under a tarp. They play "Cast the Movie!", which is a favorite game of mine. Dmitri and I often lay awake at night playing this game. We cast comic books, novels, situations (Kinkos: The Movie!).

The rules:
Majority rules
Money is no object.
Time and age is really no object, either. Just don't do anything stupid like cast Jessica Tandy as Dora the Explorer.
If someone really hates the choice, they can request a recast. (So, yeah. Elphin, you owe me. And you can thank Aysha for saving the day for you.)

So...the next logical step was, of course, Painted Wheel: The Movie! We mostly just did people who were at this particular party, with a few irresistable local exceptions. (I'm looking at you, Geldemar.)

Katherine: Loretta Switt (MASH era)
Morwenna: Sigourney Weaver
Vincent: Gene Hackman
Aysha: Janeane Garofolo
Ivar: Johnny Depp
Denys: Vigo Mortensen
Bardulf: Fred Dryer
Dulcy: Lucy Lawless
Etain: Stockard Channing
Elphin: Keifer Sutherland (we decided Doc from Young Guns was pretty much Elphin)
Delia: Carrie Fisher
Geldemar/Kazimir: Jack Black (I mean, really.)
Dmitri: Jeff Goldblum

Leave your suggestions for other Atlantians in the comments section and I will post them as well!

A Wake At The Wheel MP3s

2009-07-18T12:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, as promised, we've been doing some recordings. These are not fancy studio mixes, so, you know, they are what they are. Basically, we set up a stereo mike at practice and forged ahead.

Special thanks to Katherine, who is the one doing all the behind the scenes work on these.

You can just click the links to play the songs, or if you want to download and save the mp3, right click. You have our permission and our blessing.

Watch this space, we have three more recorded already in the que. We plan to update often.

Thanks for listening!

A Pace-Egging Song/The Burning of Auchindoun
Lyrics for A Pace Egging Song by Dulcinaya. The Burning of Auchindoun is traditional. Katherine sings lead on Auchindoun.

Cruiscín Lán
A traditional and a Chalkman Pub favorite. Ivar on lead vocals. "Cruiscín lán" is Gaelic for "little full cup."

Derry
An Irish rebel song by Bobby Sands. No, this is not the Gordon Lightfoot song. Katherine on lead vocals.

Erin
A house original by our own Vincent d'Orleans, who also sings lead on this one. Sometimes, one can change their stars simply by falling out of bed.

Kayla
Lyrics and arrangement by Dulcinaya, who also sings lead. This was written after a local event where some of us were trapped in a tin-roofed barn by a pounding rainstorm. Also trapped was a five year old girl named Kayla, who everyone all day had teased us not to steal. So we gave Kayla a tambourine and jammed until the rain let up.
So last practice, I walked in and the gang said, "It's raining too hard to record, the mike's picking up all the noise." So I said "Let's record Kayla, then." The faint sounds of rain and thunder in the recording are not dubbed, they were picked up real time.

Old Dead Soldiers
Another house favorite written and sung by Vincent. "Dead soldiers" is slang for the empty bottles you find lying all over the place at the end of a session. The song is about playing music with friends, and is kind of a tribute to our friends in Hot Irish Sausage, the Chalkman's house band.

Painted Wheel
Written by Vincent. Go us!

Katherine-lead guitar, vocals
Ivar Ulfsson-dumbek, various percussion and other drums, penny whistle, vocals
Aysha-Fiddle, Bodhran, Dumbek, Zils, Vocals
Vincent-djembe, vocals
Dulcinaya-guitar, mandolin, melodica, bodhran, various percussion, vocals

Songbooks

2009-06-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

First of all, thank you Delia and Elphin for an amazingly fun afternoon at Try It Day. The day was a huge success and I think it's safe to say a good time was had by all.

Several people asked about songbooks, and we proceeded to completely drop the ball on that. I forgot to bring them...which wouldn't have been a problem if I'd remembered that Delia had some at her place already. I'm sorry about that.

I can mail them out if you'd like to email your address to johnnyfaa@gmail.com. If you already know my regular email address, you can certainly use that, but to avoid the spam bots I think I should probably avoid posting that one here. Books are 5 dollars apiece and I think it will be around 1.50 or something to mail. I'll go to the post office Monday and find out exactly.

Anyways, it was a fun jam with everyone who played with us, and also everyone who just hung out and listened. Hope we can do it again soon!

Dulcy

“Try It” Day and Potluck Revel is only two and a half weeks away!

2009-06-21T20:11:00.000-07:00

“Try It” Day and Potluck Revel is only two and a half weeks away!

Saturday June 27 from 1pm to 9pmAt Elphin and Delia’s house in Chapin (directions available on Cyddlaine Downs and Nottinghill Coil yahoogroups, or leave comment if you need to be contacted.)

Please wear garb if you have it. We plan to have some loaner garb here,so we should be able to outfit most people. It is going to be hot, so be comfortable.

Outside we will have rapier demonstration/instruction, armored combat demonstration/instruction archery and atlatl. If you have equipment youare willing to share for any of these activities, please bring it.

I plan to have a tentative schedule of classes together for the PopulousMeeting on the 17th.That said, I have already scheduled the Newcomer 101 class for the firstsession of the day at 1pm. If you are a newcomer to the SCA, especially if you have never been to an event, please try to be here by 1pm for this class.

Here is a brief outline of planned classes
Newcomer 101- 1pm - led by Baroness Morwenna
Persian Dance- led by Lady Gwyneth of Crownehawk
Cooking Raviels – Lady Marie Helene
Nalbinding- Lady Emma Lena
Pine Needle Basket Weaving- Lady Emma Lena (if you have access to longpine needles (12” or longer), please break off a few branches now sothat they can dry out by then or gather some to bring)
Making a Rattan Sword- Lord Wilhelm
Intro to the Arts &Sciences- Lady Etain of Sutherland

PLEASE NOTE: The herbal first aid class has been cancelled.

In addition to the classes, we have a few other things in the works:
(new!) Children's activities led by Genovefa and Genevieve (Tracy andJennifer) Note: This is NOT to be construed as all day baby sitting!They will need help and they will want to participate in some adult activities too. We will discuss this more at the populous meeting.

(new!)A silent auction of arts and crafts made by our good gentles and other SCA-oriented items as a fundraiser to help Duchess Arielle with her medical expenses. Donations are Welcome!

(new!) Kumpania Painted Wheel is planning to come and play music.

A heraldic consult table (for help with your name and device)

An Arts &Sciences display area and library. Please bring yourhandiwork (in any level of completion) to display and any books youwould like to share for the day (please put your name on your books somewhere)

A gaming area with period games. Please bring your period games to addto the fun.

Make your own leather mug-holder for your belt.

Period dancing after the pot-luck feast (weather permitting)

Please bring a dish, snack or beverage to share at the pot-luck feast. This is what people have told me they are bringing so far:cold cuts and sandwich fixin’s , bread and hummus, three savory pies,salad, broccoli salad, macaroni and cheese and raviels (from the cookingclass), herbed bread and two miscellaneous desserts. Let me know whatyou are planning to bring and I will continue to post updates.

Please plan to come whether you are new to the SCA or not- we hope to have something for everybody. You may e-mail me at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cyddlaindowns/post?postID=3SZhASqJ3PHm6GIfUPtkqx8aGdQ6kxbNhmQd5X4vA4UsivRGVZXJSA0M0-QGUtLJBira5gJa1UHM8Q with any questions, concerns,contributions to the feast or generous offers of assistance.

Your friendly neighborhood MoAS Delia the Flammable

Aysha's Journal

2009-06-15T23:26:00.000-07:00

By Aysha

December the 30
Jeffrey cornered me in the barn today, but I managed to fend him off. I can not let William find out that Jeffrey is after me, for I fear that William would kill Jeffrey.....and then they would hang him. I can not let this happen. I have so far managed to fend of Jeffrey's advances. I do not know why Jeffrey wants me when he can have any regal woman he wanted, or bar-maid, for that matter. But I doubt his father would like that.

His father, Nero the Drake, is very wealthy and someday all that wealth will be Jeffrey's. I guess Jeffrey wants what he can not have, for I am happily married to William four years now. William and I serve Nero like my father before me, who died five years ago. Nero seemed sorry to lose my father and he looked after me until I met William. I fear that Nero knows his son has been chasing me because he has become cold towards me. I know he would not approve and I threaten Jeffrey that I will tell his father, and so far he has done nothing drastic. I would not do this though, for William would surely hear of this from someone. Oh, pray tell, what am I to do?

January 12
I write my entry today with a heavy heart, and the stains you see are my tears. Today I lost my beloved William. They told me it was a hunting accident, that William fell down a steep hill and broke his neck. I do not believe it was an accident. I think Jeffrey killed my husband. He came by this morning and invited William to go hunting. He never asked William to hunt before. He never spent time with William. He hated William. I asked William not to go, but he said he could not refuse Jeffrey. I know it was not an accident, for when I was crying over my husband, Jeffrey put his arm around my shoulders. But it was not an act of condolence....it was a sign of possession. He was telling me I was his.

January 14
We buried my husband today. It was a simple ceremony. All the workers were there and Nero and Jeffrey. After the ceremony, when the people were leaving, Jeffrey came up beside me. "You are mine now." He whispered. "There is no one to stop me now."

I looked him in the face and told him that I would jump off of a cliff first.

"You will marry me." He replied and walked away.

I dropped to my knees and put my face in my hands. What am I to do? I have no family to help me and no money, but I cannot stay here. Tonight I will leave here using my husband’s clothes as a disguise. It will be easier to travel as a man.

I will call myself Forrest.

April 6
It has been tough going, for I had little money when I left. Food has been hard to come by. Some I have had to steal, and some I was given by other travelers such as myself. I have had to switch my identity from man to woman and back. It is easier to get food as a woman.

When I was two days gone, I heard from a fellow traveler that Jeffrey had men looking for me. I kind of expected that. But I also learned that Nero had men looking for me. They are to be sure that I do not come back. I have to be even more careful now.

June 1
Tonight I find myself in the company and protection of a band of gypsies. Today I overheard some men talking about attacking the gypsies and running them away from their town. They did not want the gypsies anywhere near them. I did not think this to be right, so I warned the gypsies and they left before any incident occurred.

They were grateful and said I could spend the night with them. I revealed to them that I was a woman and told the woman, whom I believe to be the leader, my story. I asked if I could travel with them for protection. She said that although I was a "gadjo", I showed a good heart by warning them. I thanked her and settled in for the night.

I let my gaze wander around the group. The leader’s name is Dulcinaya, a striking woman with long black hair. There is one other gadjo, a man called Elphin. I think he is in love with Delia - they are sitting off by themselves.

I had heard stories about gypsies, and I believe that these people have been misunderstood, but then I have only been with them one day. Only time will tell, I guess. I am just grateful that I now have someone to travel with and someone to watch my back.

August 15
I have been with the gypsies for a few months now. I am really beginning to like these people. They are not at all like the stories I had heard about them. Elphin is teaching me how to fence and protect myself. I hope that I do not run into any of Nero’s men, but I want to be prepared if I do.

We have traveled to a large gathering at the Pennsic War. I have never seen so many people in one place before. We stayed in the "Court of Miracles" with other gypsies. We had a problem with thieves (and they call gypsies thieves!).

Anyway, there were all kinds of tournaments going on for light fighters, heavy fighters, and archers. Dulcinaya and I dressed up as men and registered so we could fight. I was so afraid we would be caught, but Dulcinaya had done this before and showed me what to do. We participated in a melee but lost.

That night, we went to the barn and danced. I like to dance! I danced with Alwyn Feather the Foolish, the tribe’s jester...he knows many dances!

The next day, we did some shopping. We didn't’t have much money,. but it is fun to look, anyway. That night we went to the square so Dulcinaya and Delia could tell fortunes and Alwyn could juggle and hopefully make some money. Tsigane, Dulcinaya’s sister, kept a watch out for guards, for it is illegal for gypsies to tell fortunes. We were sitting next to where Alwyn was juggling fire.

He came over to soak his sticks in oil, when all of a sudden, a fireball erupted out of his oil pot. Alwyn jumped back and Tsigane and I rolled out of the way very quickly! We think the fumes ignited when he reached to put the hot stick into the oil. No one was hurt, but he cleared the square! Alwyn threw water on the small fire before it caught a vendor’s tent on fire. The vendor started yelling for the guard, so we quickly left! But we stayed on a few more days without another incident.

September 25
Elphin gave me a blue scarf today. I also noticed that he gave everyone a gift. I found out at feast why. He asked Dulcinaya for Delia’s hand in marriage. Dulcinaya granted his request. There is to be a wedding!

October 9
We stopped at a village today. All day long, we were harassed by a constable named Oengaes. He was convinced that we were gypsies on our way to Jerusalem. Dulcinaya had me write up some passes and sign King Logan’s name to them. She then smudged, smeared, and tore the papers where Logan’s name was so you couldn’t quite make out his name. Oengaes wanted to search our belongings. Santiago, Delia’s cousin, told him to leave us alone, but mocked Oengaes’ Scottish accent. I thought we were dead! Dulcinaya turned her head to hide her laughter, but fortunately, the constable didn’t notice. He gave us a warning and left.

Later that night at feast, Constable Oengaes again accused Dulcinaya of being a gypsy. Baron Corwin came over and swore on his honor that Dulcinaya was not a gypsy. But when he removed his hat to swear the oath, coins fell out! The constable called out "Bribe!" and started after Dulcinaya! She jumped up and ran from the hall. We blocked his way just long enough for her to escape. Then we ran out the other direction. We lost them in the woods, and met up with Dulcinaya a little ways out of town.

We waited till just before dawn and snuck back to our small camp and gathered our things. I can not believe they did not have someone watching our stuff. What luck!

October 29
We came to a village today that was having fun and games and a To The Point Tournament. Some of us too part in the tourney. We lost badly! Oh, well, great swordsmen we may not be, but we keep practicing.

November 3
Dulcinaya’s reputation preceded her at the next place we came to. We found wanted posters nailed to trees leading to the village. They had a very good drawing of her. Dulcinaya did not want to risk getting caught, so she stayed in camp while we checked out the village.

Elphin and I were watching the fencing tournament when Dulcinaya’s brother Kazimir came running up and told us that Delia had been arrested for stealing. We followed Kazimir to the interior of the village. There we saw a constable leading Delia away! We waited until there was not one around and we snuck up behind the constable with swords drawn. Elphin hit him on the back of the head. He fell to the ground in a heap. We grabbed Delia and ran off to gather up every body to flee the village. This is beginning to happen on a regular basis, us running out of town.

We met up with Dulcinaya and told her what happened. We hid in a thicket for a while and made sure no one was after us. No one followed.

August 12
We made our way back to Pennsic this year. We met another gypsy there who’s name was Rachel the Goatwoman. She has a really nice vardo with two beautiful horses. We camped with the Winged Wolf Tribe down by the stream in the Court of Miracles.

I still can not believe how many people are here in one place. That many people make me nervous!

We had heard that Stephan, the King of Atlantia, had been away taking care of some skirmish, but had returned before the Queen had had her baby (which was only four days ago!) We wanted to congratulate them on the birth, so we made a request to see the Queen, which was granted. We presented her with a gift box shaped like a shell, with a smaller box inside that contained what little salt we had left. She said that she was glad we came because she had been thinking about us traveling through her kingdom with the old torn passports that we had. So she gave us one of the King’s rings, one of only six that he had commissioned. This ring would provide us with safe passage. She also gave us one of her paternosters, saying she had prayed for us. We thanked her and left with her blessing.

That evening all the gypsies got together and we traveled around to different encampments and performed for the people. Sterling dela Rosa, from Tribe Winged Wolf, told stories, Emerald, a friend of Sterling’s, danced, Santiago sang songs, and Ivar (Dulcinaya’s cousin) and I drummed. We had a party of our own one night, and Delia and Elphin told fortunes and earned some money.

August 13
Today we went to the royal encampment to see a friend of ours. The guards gave us some trouble and did not want to let us in. Dulcinaya showed them the ring the Queen had given us. One of the guards accused us of stealing the King’s ring, but Dulcinaya assured them that we did not! The greeter came up and told us we would have to wait to see our friend and for us to come in and take a seat and have a drink. We stepped inside to wait. We got tired of waiting and decided to come back another time. Dulcinaya picked up a chair, Santiago picked up a bench, and I took the pewter goblets and we walked out. The guards had changed right before, so the new guards did not know we were inside. We walked right past them with our goods.

We got a good way down the street when the greeter came back and noticed the things missing. He looked out of the tent and started calling us back. We asked him what was wrong. He said we were stealing the furniture! We told him we must have misunderstood him when he said "take a seat and have a drink." We apologized and put the things back.

All in all, it was a good Pennsic!

The Following Year

August 13
Here we are at Pennsic again. It’s becoming an annual event. We camped with two other gypsy tribes. The leaders of each tribe got together and named the camp Court of Miracles. They are good people.

We sought out Rachel the Goat Woman and the Drunken Mariners and had a gypsy-pirate party. Rachel took Dulcinaya aside and said she had a gift for her. She gave Dulcinaya a length of rope. Someone said it was a leash for Santiago, but it was a lead rope for a horse. Rachel presented one of her horses as a gift to the clan Painted Wheel. Her name is Silvermist. She is very beautiful and is our most prized possession. We were so proud of our new horse that we paraded her through the streets and the merchants area. We had to convince a few people that she was ours and that we did not steal her.

Thursday, The Same Week
We had our gypsy party tonight. There was drumming, dancing, singing, and someone juggled fire. We were having a really good time until a man from the next camp came and told us we had to be quiet. He said if we did not stop drumming he would call the guards. We told him to go back to his camp. He called the guards and they threatened to arrest us if we did not quiet down. We did not want to leave Pennsic yet so we complied with their wishes. We will have to find a way to get rid of this man who complained. He made a lot of enemies this night.

Friday, The Same Week
I had a fright today. While we were out walking today, Geldemar heard some men asking about me. This is as close as they have been to me. I did not know if they were Geoffrey’s men or Nero’s men. If they were Geoffrey’s men they would not hurt me. If they were Nero’s men, they would kill me. Geldemar told us to go hide while he tried to find out who they were. Later, he told us he followed them to the Crafty Celts booth and asked Vortigern if he had seen me. Vortigern asked them “Who wants to know?” They replied “Nero the Drake.” Dulcinaya decided it was time to leave. So we packed up and left Pennsic until next year.

So far they do not know that I with the Painted Wheel gypsies. And I pray that they do not find out. I dod not want to put Painted Wheel in any danger. I have cut my hair and I dress like a gypsy, so I am hoping that no one will associate me with the person they are looking for. Only now, I need a gypsy name. I will ask Dulcinaya for a name.

I am so excited. We were having dinner tonight when Dulcinaya called me over. She agreed that I should have a gypsy name. From now on, I will be known to the outside world as Aysha. I think I am starting to fit in with these people now. I feel a little bit more at ease, but I still have to keep my guard up. They are still looking for me. Will they ever stop?

Well, an uneventful year has gone by. We have managed to stay away from any of the men looking for me. We have made it to Pennsic XXX. There are more people here than ever before. They had a hard time finding places to put everyone. Fortunately, we were able to get our old spot by the stream. It was very hot the week before we arrived but has cooled off a bit.

Monday 13th
Today we went in search of our friends the Drunken Mariners and found them in their old spot. We were all happy to see each other. They told us they were lucky to be there. On their way to Pennsic they were attacked by some highwayman. They fought them off with little difficulty, but Max’s wagon caught fire. They lost a lot of their supplies. One thing they did bring with them was the is strange, big box that keeps cold on the inside.* They would not tell us how it worked. They said it was magic. It kept their food from spoiling. I have never seen anything like it before. We thought this magical box to be most wonderful. We gathered around the box to examine it. The pirates drew their guns and told us to stop away from the box. We backed away telling them we were just looking at the box. We were not going to take it. We are your friends,” we told them. They lowered their guns and said they were sorry. They were still very nervous. We all had a good laugh about the whole thing.

Wednesday 15th
For a few days now I think I have been followed. I keep seeing a certain Frenchman every where I go. I am not sure if he is following me, but he makes me very nervous.

Thursday 16th
We were out walking our horse Silvermist when we were stopped by the constable. He said that Silvermist belonged up on the Serengeti. What were we doing with her?** We told him that she was a gift from Rachel. He did not believe us at first but this nice lady named Katherine came up and told him we were telling the truth. He still looked skeptical, but he let us go, warning us to stay out of trouble. Dulcinaya was thanking the lady when the Frenchman I had seen came walking up. Katherine introduced him as her husband Vincent. Katherine asked if they could walk with us and Dulcinaya agreed.

Vincent said “That is a very fine horse. You could get a lot of money for her.”

“Oh, we would never sell Silvermist.” Dulcinaya told him.

I do not trust this Vincent. After all, he is French.

Note* These hedonistic people had a propane-powered refridgerator, complete with a freezer, delivered to their camp. And they filled it with popsicles. At Pennsic. This is so wrong.

Note** Even at Pennsic ya get hassled by The Man……

Ivar's Story

2009-06-15T20:36:00.000-07:00

By Ivar

I came into the world as the son of a dancer named Keomi Boshengro, and a Scandinavian, probably a Dane, named Turin Ulfsson. The Rom are usually exclusive, keeping to their own kind in such matters, but sometimes these things do happen between people. I do not know how they came to meet, or how they came to part.

I remember peering out of the wagons at night after bed time, watching my mother and the other women and girls dancing in the moonlight at the fire, and falling asleep listening to the music and the drums. I eventually learned to drum too, as many of the older boys did, because then we could stay up late on party nights.

Maybe I should have told her I was leaving, but we'd had yet another fight. Our tribe was getting too large and quarrelsome to dodge unwanted notice easily, and I was not favored among the relatives, being born out of wedlock as I was; so I left as soon as I had my first beard hairs and could claim to be a man and go my own way.

I set out to the North, more or less, in the Spring to find my father's people, and by Summer I met the chieftess Dulcinaya and her small clan. She said she knew my father from long ago - indeed I seemed to remember her as well, but as a younger child who I did not notice very often - and she recognized the Norse medallion that I wore, and still wear, that was once his. She told me that Painted Wheel could use more defenders, and she offered to hire me on. Fall was coming and my progress North was too slow, so I accepted.

The pay is a joke - barely enough to afford a pint at the Chalkman now and then - but their food and wine and company is always plenty and good, and what is gold anyway but one more step toward these, the finer things in life? Even by Romany standards I am not large, and I am only a fair swordsman on the best of days; I think she just wanted me to have an excuse to stay with them because I make her laugh, and because I would have probably gotten myself killed before I ever reached the north sea. We were friends almost at once because it seemed so natural.

At first, I thought to care for her, but her heart was elsewhere. I heard news that Ari Bosh was close by, and so I left again, to the West this time, to learn what I could of my mother, to whom I had tried to send word a number of times but got no answer, and perhaps my father. My clearest memory of him is his teaching me how to move the chess pieces in the shade of the wagons when I was a very small boy who could barely walk, and his booming laugh when I would get it right. He smelt of elderberries.

In my travels I discovered that he may have been a lesser nobleman, and there may be a claim of arms for me, perhaps even some land, or at least some kind of citizenship, if he were to recognize me as an illegitimate son. This I pieced together from some I met who knew of Ari Bosh, but they had moved on and I never found them or my mother.

I traveled East again and caught up with Painted Wheel. Dulcinaya hired me back on immediately, but it is more than a job now. They have become my adopted family, and it has grown larger. We have taken to performing music for the gadje, which is more profitable and much less dangerous than stealing from them, and they are more inclined to let us be. I fear I may be more valuable now as a drummer than as the bold young fighter I once thought myself to be. Either way, I have been one of Painted Wheel ever since Dulcinaya found me that first day, and there is gray in my beard now. They feel like family more than Ari Bosh ever did. Santiago is like a brother to me, and we have had many adventures and narrow escapes. I know some runes, but Vosh is helping me to learn letters and numbers, and Kazimir and his brother Geldemar teach me courtly manners. These things are useful when facing bailiffs and constables and sherriffs and the like. Unarmed and outnumbered, an educated man can still bargain better than one who is not.

Perhaps one day I will have some land, and we may settle there and finally have a place to call home. Meanwhile, my rapier grows rusty, and Dulcinaya pretends not to notice.

First Meeting

2009-06-15T11:07:00.000-07:00

By Elphin

Every seaport I have ever been in has always sounded the same. Shouts of sailors in a multitude of languages intermingle with the cries of seagulls. The planks of the docks creak and the ships boom against their moorings. And underneath it all is the unceasing pounding of the waves. I was waiting in this particular port for a friend to arrive.

David of York and I had been friends since the Master at Arms had paired us when we first began learning the art of swordplay. A close friendship was built out of beating each other black and blue. We were inseparable for a time; prowling London, drinking and carousing. We learned to watch each other's backs through the turbulent times of Our Queen's early reign.

I had received word that David was bringing with him a purse from my brother to replenish my much depleted funds. Ever since we were fostered to the royal court my older brother has protected me. Whether it was bigger bullies or vicious gossips, he has always tried to shield me from the worst of human nature. I had decided it was my turn to protect him by staying as far away from the royal court as possible.

I tried once again to think of some way to stretch my resources. Money had a distressing way of disappearing and my training to be a courtly gentlemen left me little in the way of marketable skills to sell. My dancing abilities were poor at best, my proficiency at chess and witty conversation were not likely to gain any gold, and my abilities with the written word were poor enough to drive the good brothers who had taught me to distraction. I could sell my sword arm, but I lacked the stomach for putting a price on my loyalty. I am passing fair with a rapier, perhaps someone would pay for lessons for a son, or sons.

Someone sweeping me into a bear hug interrupted my musings. Gasping for breath, I opened my eyes to see that David of York had arrived. We pounded each other's backs and said the things one usually says when one meets an old friend one haven't seen in some time. I suggested a drink to celebrate the occasion. David heartily agreed.

On the way I inquired as to the health of his father. David struck a pose and in his best imitation of the Chamberlain's haughty tones, "The Duke and His Lady are Resting at His Summer Palace."

I laughed, David always had a way of ridiculing the most irritating of people. I asked after his mother. "She is also doing well," he replied, "She sends you her love."

Without my asking, David slipped me a heavy purse saying, " Your brother sends this as well as his love.

"He is adjusting well to his new title," David continued, "Even the Queen has made comment.”

"It gladdens my heart to hear it." I said, tucking the purse away.

After several ales at a nearby tavern, we decided to search for more interesting surroundings, as the establishment was lacking the area of feminine accompaniment. Not too steady on our feet, we wandered the back streets, looking for a more entertaining place of business when a tall figure dressed in tattered rags rushed around a corner and plowed into me. I tried to push the mendicant away, but was shocked to discover my hands had encountered a very obviously female form. I looked at her face and fell into the most soulful, dark eyes I had ever seen. They seemed to implore me for help in some way.

I would likely be there still, gazing into her eyes but for the appearance of four burly men carrying clubs. They shouted in a language unknown to me and rushed forward. The maiden in my arms stiffened and whirled around. As she did so I was shocked a second time as I felt my rapier being drawn. The raggedly dressed woman had snatched my own sword from its sheath as she stepped away! I stared at the maiden's hand holding my blade incredulously, uncertain of what was going on.

I noticed a heavy broken chain dangling from a manacle around her wrist. A look at her other wrist revealed a matching manacle. Both her wrists showed the blisters of long wear. These men were definitely not from the local constabulary. She would have to be their slave; no doubt escaped from a ship moored in the harbor. I felt my mouth tighten. Slavery had been rightly outlawed in my homeland for years and no right thinking man espoused it. I didn't know who she was or what was happening, but no gentleman, even the son of a Welsh scoundrel, could stand idly by and allow a damsel to be harassed, even if she had stolen his blade.

Drawing my dagger, I stepped beside the maiden. David, as I expected, drew his rapier and stepped beside me. The four men did not look very happy with this situation. Judging from the men's dress and heavy beards, I took them for Poles. I did not know what language was spoken in Poland. I did know a little German, and hoping that at least someone knew the speech of the German Principalities, I tried it. One of the men stepped forward and spoke in a tongue with which I was unfamiliar. I glanced at David. He shrugged his incomprehension. In succession I tried French and even Latin to no avail.

The man who had stepped forward looked at his companions, when they offered no assistance he said in halting Greek, "What do you want?" My grasp of Greek is very poor, but I tried to respond in the same language, "What do you want with this girl?" Actually, I think I said, "What do you do with your grandmother?"

The four men took exception to my words, or at least decided that the time for diplomacy was past. They charged, flailing with their clubs. I stepped inside one man's swing and tried to parry with my dagger. Instead of catching his club, my dagger caught his forearm. Recognizing an opportunity when I saw one I drew with the edge of my blade, opening his arm to the elbow. He grunted and dropped the club. He sent me sprawling with a powerful blow from his left hand, then leaped on top of me. I had to bash him several times on the head with my dagger pommel before I could get him off of me. I struggled to my feet and took stock of the situation. After sending one of his opponents running for his life, David was stabbing another in the leg. Unfortunately as the ruffian went down he gave David a good blow in the ribs.

Hearing a loud gasp of pain I whirled around, fearing for the maiden. I should not have worried. The damsel I was so concerned for had run a man through with my rapier. The ruffian groaned and collapsed as she withdrew the blade. I noted by her stance and the way the girl held the sword as she looked for another enemy to skewer that this maiden knew her way around a blade. I also made note of her rather pleasing form her rags tried and mostly failed to conceal.

Seeing no one threatening her, the damsel lowered my rapier and relaxed. Thinking this was a good time to make friends, I stuffed my dagger in my belt and approached her saying, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

"'Don't worry,' you said, 'I won't hurt you,' You said " mocked David.

"Shut up and tie the bandage." I grumbled.

The Curse of the Flaming Skull

2009-06-14T23:53:00.000-07:00

This story was told to Painted Wheel at Twelfth Night. 1/5/2002

By Robert, Rachel, Max and Yela

It was one of the finest mornings we'd ever seen at Camp Bodrum. Our pirate contingent was merrily conducting a land raid while the Bodrum gypsies enjoyed a pleasant visit from their friends in Painted Wheel. The shadows lengthened and bottles of meade began passing through the company. Songs were sung. Some well, some loudly. Jokes were told, drums were beaten, and dancers whipped about in splendid fun.

But across the road, there was trouble sneaking through the shadows. Though at the time we'd no notion of it, we later learned that a man was watching our goings on with sinister purpose. Petrel Demetria, a veteran and ruthless mercenary retained by Nero the Drake, had spent many long months in pursuit of his elusive quarry, the fair Aysha, and must have been well pleased to spot the runaway dancing among us, oblivious to the malignant danger he represented.

Every member of our household is familiar with Aysha's tragic story. However, if any hearing this tale are unfamiliar, suffice to say, Nero meant Aysha terrible harm, and this assassin was to be the instrument of his will. Presumably preferring the cover of night, Petrel slipped quietly away to take a meal and wait out the sun's final moments. Fortunately, as we would soon discover, Petrel was a man generously capable of error, and it was during his absence that the members of Painted Wheel chose to collect themselves and head for their own camp, Aysha among them.

It was also at this time that the stalwart Mariners returned triumphant, laden with all manner of ill-gotten goods from their raiding. They greeted, and then wished fond farewell to the departing gypsies, and immediately set about distributing and packing their loot aboard their grounded ship, the Twilight Mistress. With practiced efficiency, ammunition, food, and clothing were packed away. Coins and jewelry were divided and stored, principally in secret places, and the bolts of cloth were quickly claimed by Trina the sailmistress. The pace slowed considerably however, with the large and myriad supply of stolen ale and liquor. As the variety and quality of these spirits sunk in, a lethargy for work settled over the male members of the crew, until WyteRaevyn, the ship's carpenter, suggested that each and every bottle should be carefully sampled to insure there was no poison. "For safety" he quickly added.

The matter was settled and the sailors began doing what they do best. Soon they wandered into the cool interior of the ship. Not long thereafter, all that could be heard was their sharp staccato snores drifting into a darkening sky.

After a few exchanged smiles, the women of camp had turned to the business of settling in for the evening, when Demetria returned. His eye was steady. His hands drifted across the weapons concealed about his person. Slinking through the gate, he moved to circle the edge of camp. While a stealthy entrance might have served him well on someone else's property, it was just the sort of thing to catch the eye of the wily harbormistress Elayne. In short order, she stood before him, coolly demanding to know his business. With a growl of warning he shoved past her and immediately saw Rachel assisting Ven Droma's beloved Shuvani to their Vardo after a long day's fortune telling. Mistaking the frail old woman for...a frail old woman, Petrel was upon her in three long strides, grabbing her by the arms. "Where is Rebekah?*" he hissed. "I know she is here among you gypsies."

Shuvani's eyes narrowed. She pursed her lips and said nothing, which angered the man. He shook her violently. Rachel began moving toward him, but was stayed by a sharp look from her grandmother. Rachel had long known to respect that temper and remained at arms length. Glancing quickly about she noticed Yela quietly hurrying into the Twilight Mistress. Oblivious, Petrel repeated with greater venom, "Where IS she?"

Shuvani leveled her eyes at him and began speaking in Romany--sharp, ancient words in rhythmic cadence. Not a patient man in the best of circumstances, the mercenary brought a knife to her throat. Rachel, unable to remain silent any longer gently gripped his arm pleading, "Please don't hurt my grandmother, she doesn't speak your language. The woman you seek is inside the ship, you will find her there."

Smirking at her, Petrel sheathed the dagger and shrugged her hands aside. Shuvani was flung toward the ground and would have fallen if not for Rachel's quick hands, correcting her balance. Through it all Shuvani's litany continued.

The burly hunter advanced toward the ship with confidence. Just before he reached the opening Maeve lunged from the shadows, wrapping her arms around him, a look of fear on her pretty face. "Please, don't hurt Rebekah!" she begged. "She has done no wrong to you!" Impatiently, he pushed her away and, finally entered the Twilight Mistress.

But Yela had not been idle within that broken hull. Petrel Demetria, veteran mercenary, stared down a broadside of five well-oiled, but quite unsteadily aimed, flintlock pistols. A sixth gun was held in the Captain's limp fingers as he remained unconscious, heedless to Yela's desperate howling into his ear. "The ship is under attack!" she screamed.

Morgan remained inert.

Petrel quickly deemed the sergeant at arms his most dangerous foe. With practiced speed his right hand stole beneath his cloak, and with a single, fluid motion, he unsheathed and struck Joad in the heart with...a delicate branch that snapped harmlessly against the sergeant's massive chest. Irritated, Joad quickly fired at point-blank range. The ball planted squarely in the ship's hull three feet to the left of the assassin's head.

Joad later insisted that he had seen two identical attackers, and he had hit the one on the left directly between the eyes.

The first pangs of fear in his heart, Petrel reached for his backup dagger, and quickly produced...a ripe banana. Bewildered his head snapped left and right, seeking his absent arsenal, and there, through the entrance, was Maeve, playfully swinging his custom rapier to and fro. Behind her Rachel smoothly tucked his jeweled, curved dagger into her belt, and began idly thumbing through the contents of his belt pouch. Both ladies wore a wry smile.

A second blast echoed within the pirates' grounded ship as the Naviguesser, with a muttered curse, opened fire on a harmless lantern. In his hungover condition, the bright light it cast was a greater threat than ten armed killers.

Still trying to rouse their slumbering leader, Yela violently shook Morgan, and shrieked into his ear, "A killer! He's trying to kill us!"

There was a slight twitch of the Captain's nose.

Cross-eyed and perhaps the least lucid of all, WyteRaevyn nevertheless drew perfect aim. Sadly he had selected the Captain as his target, and only the quick action by his wife, Trina nudged the weapon aside in the nick of time. The ball passed harmlessly, though noisily, through one of the ship's few remaining glass portholes.

Petrel's confidence returned in a rush. These men were roaring drunk! He pulled from his boot a weapon not stolen by the quick-fingered gypsies; a small derringer style pistol. Typically ineffective, the pirates realized it could be deadly in this small space and backed away.

Suddenly, Arduina the Captain's Booty, who had hitherto escaped Petrel's notice reached from the darkness and gripped Morgan's shoulder. She said simply, "He's stealing the booze."

Bolt awake, the captain immediately sat upright, drew an unswerving bead on Petrel's head and squeezed the trigger faster than the eye could see. It was only the mercenary's quick reflexes that kept him from certain death, but he yelped in pain when the ball grazed his ear. Once again the ship endured its crew's well intentioned marksmanship as Morgan's shot bored into her battered hull. Wounded, Petrel staggered back out of the ship, and was momentarily panicked when Angus emerged from the opening. He was angry, he was armed, he was nearly sober. Petrel began to run. The compact Mariner leapt neatly from the opening and gave chase, screaming madly. To the huntsman's bewilderment, his pursuer quickly outdistanced him, running faster and faster until he disappeared into the woods. Soon, all that could be heard was a far away howling as Angus chased shadows in the distance.

Petrel galloped madly around the tents, trying to find a way out. He took a wrong turn and discovered himself with his back to a wall. Two newcomers approached the scene. Max, pistol in hand and, in marked contrast to the rest of the crew, sober, stalked forward slowly, holding the man in his sights. Robert atte Quill, raced to his wife Rachel's side and asked, "Who the devil is he?" "I don't know," she replied, "but he's trying to kill Aysha." Then in a whisper she added, "And I think grandmama put a curse on him." Not taking any chances, Max fired at the panicked assassin, but by bizarre chance, the bullet ricocheted off the target's wide belt buckle and shattered a neighboring jug of 20 year old, 80 proof rum. Renewed howls of anger bellowed from the ship as the mariners impacted and tumbled against one another in a fervent but ultimately doomed effort to all get through the opening at once.

A strange smile on his face, Petrel stood straight and took careful aim at Max's heart with the derringer still clutched in his hand. Max looked for cover, but found none and slowly realized, he could do nothing but wait. Robert, looked on worriedly and said to his wife, "That's strange. Shuvani's curses are usually a lot faster-acting than this."

Lips curled in a sneer, Petrel pulled the trigger. Incredibly, his small pistol exploded, severely burning his hand and hurling burning wood and bits of metal in all directions. Petrel had time to scream and grab his wounded hand, before the shower of sparks ignited the pool of rum in which he was standing. His whole body suddenly engulfed in pitiless flame, he ran for a few steps, then squarely struck a neat stack of large barrels with a small cask balanced on the top. Petrel's impact dislodged the barrel, which promptly fell onto his head, cracked and detonated its contents of black powder, which in turn detonated the dozen large barrels filled with the Brewmistress's finest meade.

Max quickly felt his chest and abdomen, checking for holes while the rest of the household slowly approached the sudden bonfire burning in our camp. Joad, Raven and Wyte Raven were distracted, keeping a tight hold on Morgan who was pushing with all his strength towards the fire. "Don't be a fool, man!" screamed Wyte Raven, "He's beyond our help!"

"The meade, you idiot!" our Captain shouted back. "We must save the meade!"

Quietly, Rachel turned and walked to her beloved grandmother, who was sitting on her wagon steps. Cocking her head, Rachel asked, "Grandmama, what did you say? What curse did you give that man?" A glint in her eye, Shuvani replied slyly,

"May the curse of Painted Wheel fall upon your head."

After the story was completed, Max and Yela presented the skull of Painted Wheel's enemy, in a chest, surrounded by gold and silver coins. Its purpose is to be a fire charm, to keep the household from setting themselves on fire.

How Bardulf and Morwenna Came to Join the Kumpania

2009-06-14T23:50:00.000-07:00

By Bardulf & Morwenna

How was I was kidnapped by the gypsies? Did I say kidnapped? Well, not really kidnapped…. It’s a bit more complicated than that.

Have a seat my friend, and for the price of an ale, I’ll tell you a tale…..

By nature, I’m an ordinary seaman with just enough talent to be a second mate. While not a lavish life, it was tolerable enough. Tolerable enough until I happened to take a shine to a Cornish lass.

That girl had a mind for merchanting. ‘Tis known that not many need a keg of nails and fewer yet have the money to buy a keg of nails - but everyone needs a few nails now and then.

It wasn’t long before she discovered that when you sold nails by the dozen, you could earn more than the money it cost to buy the same number of nails by the keg. Pretty soon, we had a profitable ship chandler business.

What does any sailor with too much money buy? No, not whiskey - a ship! We bought a run-down, old merchantman that brought us a tidy profit in trade with the Dutch - which of course we used to buy another ship - and in turn, another!

Do you remember that splendid little war we had with the French a few years back?

I do.

Some sorry Frog man-o-war boarded my ship and stole my cargo!

Facing ruin, I did what a man had to do. I turned privateer - I was not a pirate you understand; all my vessels had a proper letter of marque - signed by the King himself! We showed the damned French what happens when you steal from an Englishman!

That privateering was rather rewarding made the revenge sweeter. Riches and honors came in abundance. My lady & I were proclaimed Baron & Baroness by the King - however, with no Baronial lands they were perhaps empty titles….

So far, so good. ‘Tis said however, that good fortune will test you as surely as any adversity.

Well, the old king (God rest his soul) dies and his idiot son marries a French princess, and just like that, the French are now our allies! -

And just like that, French ships are no longer fair game and I’m now a pirate! How’s that, you ask? When the they steal your cargo, it’s a “prize of war” - when you return the courtesy, well, that’s piracy!!

It seems the damned Frogs were also a bit upset that I sank a few of their ships.

How many? - perhaps a dozen, maybe more…..

Not finding a gallows to my liking, we hid from the French in the only place a Frenchman would never look…..

France.

One dark and stormy night, the Baroness and I took our comfort in what might be generously deemed a tavern - it was “The Old Brown Cow” - or some such name. While the ale was tolerable enough, the port sherry truly pleased my palate and I indulged more than a gentleman should. That’s the only excuse I have for what follows….

The “entertainment” on that evening was an odd lot of gypsies. One woman danced and tried to coax a few coins from the patrons. Three others tried to coax a danceable tune from instruments that had clearly seen better days.

The dancer might have succeeded were it not for a man that sat close by. He seemed pleasant enough, but would always favor any patron that paid too much attention to the dancer with a deadpan glare that warned any man to keep his distance. That he also kept a rapier within arm’s reach didn’t help her income a bit.

The Baroness yawned, looked bored, and excused herself.

Moments later, ‘twas then that six men entered…..

By the look of them, they were the Sheriff, four bailiffs, and a somewhat aggrieved-looking farmer.

“That’s her! - That’s the thieving wench!”

The dancer froze but a moment, then ran for the kitchen door - and right into the arms of a waiting bailiff. He spun the woman around, seized her by the scruff of the neck and pinned one arm behind her back.

“Release her.”

It was the fellow with the rapier who spoke. It was a simple, dry, matter-of-fact command that a prudent man would heed.

Prudent men were in short supply that night.

“Or what?”

May the Gods save us from such idiots. The idiot in question was the youngest bailiff. The youth compounded his lunacy by drawing a sword and turning to face the seated man.

With a speed I would not have credited to a mortal, the man rose, and unsheathed the rapier. One fluid blow stuck the sword from the bailiff’s hand and the return stroke pinned the fool against a wall.

When everything stopped moving, the room was full of bared steel.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the blond gypsy woman that had played the fiddle had chosen her targets and was quietly readying two throwing knives.

“Gentlemen…..”

I stood and walked to the center of the room, clearly unarmed and brandishing only my purse.

“….there’s no need for this to end badly.”

I held out the purse to the farmer and shook it so that all could hear the coins inside. I saw no reason to reveal that those coins were but a handful of coppers.

“What was taken? A few eggs - perhaps a chicken or two? Surely those things are not worth a man’s life.”

“The first man who moves, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

A familiar feminine voice - the Baroness had returned. She stood in the kitchen doorway brandishing a wheel-lock that I had given her some time ago.

“Put the pistol down, my dear - there’s no need for that. I’ll explain later.”

“I step out for a moment to visit the loo and when I come back you’re surrounded by armed men while holding your purse out! And this is the thanks I get? I’ll be damned if I ever save your sorry Saxon arse….”

She never finished the tirade because a deafening report filled the room. The Sheriff’s hat was shredded, but thankfully the head below it was spared.

I really did intend to have the pistol repaired someday. Whenever the clockwork was over-wound, the trigger pawl had a nasty habit of slipping, causing the gun to fire without actually pulling the trigger.

In truth, I can remember but snippets of what followed - things did happen faster than the most even-tempered of men could observe.

I’ll give the gypsies credit for being a quick-witted lot - everyone of them seized whatever opportunity the confusion provided.

The dancer broke free when she came down hard on her captor’s toes with her heel. She then wheeled about and settled a private debt. While I didn’t witness what she did to his nethers, his bulging eyes bespoke the result.

I don’t recall which of them grabbed the Baroness & I pulled us out the door.

We were guided along a path through the woods that I could not have found, let alone followed in the dark. Presently, we entered their encampment and were given food and drink and a place to rest.

“The Sherengro wants to meet you two. Address her as the ‘Rani Bari’. She’s been told what happened at the tavern.”

The woman sat at the edge of a campfire and barely took note of our approach. Her attention centered on some cards that were spread out on a small carpet.

“You two are bit old for brawlin’, eh?”

“I fear we’re at the mercy of your hospitality, Rani Bari. Everything we had is back at the Tavern. We dare not return for it.”

“This Kumpania honors its debts and its friends.”

The woman fell silent and scowled at the cards. She gathered them up and laid them out again. Whatever was divulged did not please her, for she quickly gathered them up again. Suddenly, her face brightened - as if seeing something obvious for the first time.

“Well damn me for being a fool! The cards can’t reveal unless I know your names!”

“We are Bardulf and Morwenna, Baron and Baroness at your service.”

The Sherengro paused. Clearly she suspected the vagabonds before her were of a couple of loons. She then favored us with a gently tolerant smile that is used in the company of small children.

“Baron? Baroness?? Forgive my lack of manners! I’m Dulcinaya, The Queen of Egypt! Welcome to my royal court!

Dulcinaya shuffled the cards one more time and laid them out.

“The cards say you’re going to stay with us for a while.”

Horsey Dorveys

2009-06-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

To make Halloween more special for trick or treaters this year, let us give them a taste of some quality gourmet French cuisine for a change. I have an excellent recipe for Horsey Dorveys, a most delightful morsel that goes well with any fine chocolate and champagne. With your help we can give the youngsters something they cannot get just anywhere. The recipe takes a bit of work, but with everyone pitching in, we can pull it off.

It is basically a hand pressed fresh horse pate', wrapped in a crispy frog skin crepe, then lightly accented with a drizzle of a rich, creamy, snail shell sauce. Yummy. Nothing else like it.

Given how Silvermist hardly drinks, I am sure that she is not in need of her entire liver. In all likelihood, it is conceivably possible that eventually she would somewhat heal from the procedure. I shall need some help holding her down, but if I am not mistaken where the liver is, all should go fairly quickly.

What we will need:
A wooden meat grinder (to avoid that unpleasant metallic taste)
4-5 large frogs (or toads if none are available)
1 large Vidalia onion
Thick fresh cream
Mushrooms (Dulcy, whatever you have handy)
leftover escargot shells (hang on to any you get between now and then)
2 cases Dom Perigon
French Tarragon (fresh stuff, not the dry store stuff, preferably shipped in that day from Paris)
Silvermist
rope
sharp knives
1-2 horse tranquilizers
sutures

If you get another horse this year, we can make this an annual tradition!

IMPORTANT! For best results, Silvermist needs to be on a strict diet of oats only for the next few weeks. She will like that.

Truly in Service,
Vincent

A Wake At The Wheel

2009-06-14T22:01:00.001-07:00

A Wake At The Wheel is Vincent, Katherine, Ivar, Aysha, and Dulcinaya.

Okay, it's almost here. We have recordings. No, no, I'm not messing with you. I'm just waiting for them to be sent to me so I can post the suckers.

But yeah, we actually made some nice recordings. I'll give everyone a heads up when I post them.

Saphira

2009-06-14T20:57:00.000-07:00

Dmitri

2009-06-14T20:56:00.000-07:00

http://www.flashbackuniverse.com/

Long years ago, Dmitri frequently camped on the lands of House White Phoenix, the household that took in Dulcinaya when she was orphaned. Dulcy told her guardians he was her older brother.

Well, he wasn't older, and he wasn't her brother.

One day, Dmitri was shanghaid in an alley and pressed into service on a pirate ship, where, suprisingly, he learned to read and write (and make lots of copies). He eventually won his freedom and returned to his lover and her new tribe, Kumpania Painted Wheel.

A talented guitarist and storyteller, Dmitri has the gift of knowing how to make anyone feel welcome at his fire.

Moira

2009-06-14T20:55:00.001-07:00

Iago

2009-06-14T20:54:00.001-07:00

Iago Gallago (James the Gallician) is (so far) a traveller, based in the north west of Spain in the 16th C. He plays gallician pipes for dancing, and to keep his spirits up, and earns his money entertaining villagers by music, juggling, fire -eating and a little careful legerdemain (take that how you will :).

He travels with Zelda, who is "the Most Powerful Witch in the North", as well as being a lovely singer/songwriter/drummer and various family members. There are a pack of dogs with two stupid spaniels "Zebediah" and "Tobias" as leaders.

Mundane note: Martin is our most far-flung member, residing in Australia.

Thia

2009-06-14T20:52:00.002-07:00

Thia is originally from Kumpania Ari Bosh, (which is the same tribe that raised Kazimir and Tsigane after the original Painted Wheel was decimated by soldiers.)

She and her brother Robert the Quill arrived at the camp of the Ven Droma one afternoon after The Twilight Mistress was shipwrecked, intending to visit with some friends they had there. This is when she met the stranded ship's pilot. Yela and Max have been smitten with each other ever since.

Macksi

2009-06-14T20:52:00.001-07:00

http://www.drunkenmariners.com/

"Max" is the Romany pilot of the Drunken Mariners’ wrecked ship, the Twilight Mistress. After his family was driven from the land of a noble French household when he was a child, he was found and adopted by that same French household. Growing up, he made his way in varied trades, eventually becoming a shipper for a clothing merchant.

This is what led to him joining on with The Twilight Mistress, a pirate vessel that raided his sloop. These pirates were notorious drinkers and carousers, and one fateful morning, after a month long binge, they went on a raid.

Being drunk, thinking one can conquer anything, and sailing don't usually mix well. The crew failed to notice the signs of foul weather ahead. They sailed headlong into a massive gale. Raven the Naviguesser directed Max (who, ironically, is a tee-totaler, and the only sober man aboard) to steer the ship out of the storm. Unfortunately, he guessed wrong, and the ship ran aground hard!

The bulk of the crew scattered but a small group managed to keep together on shore. As fate would have it, the Kumpania Ven Droma, Painted Wheel’s relatives, were camped in that very spot.

They gave them shelter from the storm that destroyed their ship and in return, the group of gadje who came to burn them out a few days later were surprised to discover a gang of drunken but ferocious pirates protecting them!

Robert

2009-06-14T20:51:00.001-07:00

http://www.vendroma.com/

http://www.robertquill.com/

Robert the Quill is Thia’s artistically talented brother. He and his sister Thia showed up in the Ven Droma camp shortly after the arrival of the shipwrecked pirates.

Upon seeing that Rachel the Goatwoman was quite the hottie, he decided to stick around for a bit. They eventually married, and the two of them are now an inseparable pair.

Robert can often be found at Pennsic, in the booth with the sign that reads “Please Disturb The Artist.”

Awards
AoA 7-20-02

Rachel

2009-06-14T20:49:00.000-07:00

http://www.enslin.com/rae/pages/stume.htm

http://www.vendroma.com/

Rachel the Goatwoman is the head of Kumpania Ven Droma. She met Painted Wheel while we were admiring her horse, Silvermist, who was grazing outside her vardo one morning.
Her warmth and friendliness endeared her to us immediately, and it is through her hospitality that Painted Wheel became friends with the Drunken Mariners.

Rachel is known as "The Goatwoman" because of the large herd of various livestock* she carts around with her when she travels; notably the very life-like goats she uses for shopping carts in the Pennsic marketplace.

*Note: The Australian Shepherd out in front of the vardo isn't alive and never has been alive. The fake fur and plastic it's made of has never been alive. Anyone accusing her of animal cruelty may well get themselves run over by a large, Ledge-style, white and green vardo.

Tsigane

2009-06-14T20:48:00.001-07:00

Dulcinaya’s and Kazimir’s sister, Tsigane is the level head, the reliable shoulder, and the healing hand of the Kumpania. Usually content to pursue more quiet pastimes than her tribesmen, Tsigane is often the calm eye in the storm.

Raised by her Aunt Savina, Lochlann’s mother, she, like Kazimir, was reunited with their sister as an adult, and the three siblings are fiercely protective of one another.

Awards
AoA 9-1981Order of the Coill's Tripaliare

Baroness Morwenna

2009-06-14T20:47:00.001-07:00

How were we kidnapped by the gypsies? Did I say kidnapped? Well, not really kidnapped…. It’s a bit more complicated than that.

Have a seat my friend, and for the price of an ale, I’ll tell you a tale…..

By nature, I’m an ordinary seaman with just enough talent to be a second mate. While not a lavish life, it was tolerable enough. Tolerable enough until I happened to take a shine to a Cornish lass.

That girl had a mind for merchanting. ‘Tis known that not many need a keg of nails and fewer yet have the money to buy a keg of nails - but everyone needs a few nails now and then.

It wasn’t long before she discovered that when you sold nails by the dozen, you could earn more than the money it cost to buy the same number of nails by the keg. Pretty soon, we had a profitable ship chandler business.

What does any sailor with too much money buy? No, not whiskey - a ship! We bought a run-down, old merchantman that brought us a tidy profit in trade with the Dutch - which of course we used to buy another ship - and in turn, another!

Do you remember that splendid little war we had with the French a few years back?

I do.

Some sorry Frog man-o-war boarded my ship and stole my cargo!

Facing ruin, I did what a man had to do. I turned privateer - I was not a pirate you understand; all my vessels had a proper letter of marque - signed by the King himself! We showed the damned French what happens when you steal from an Englishman!

That privateering was rather rewarding made the revenge sweeter. Riches and honors came in abundance. My lady & I were proclaimed Baron & Baroness by the King - however, with no Baronial lands they were perhaps empty titles….

So far, so good. ‘Tis said however, that good fortune will test you as surely as any adversity.

Well, the old king (God rest his soul) dies and his idiot son marries a French princess, and just like that, the French are now our allies! -

And just like that, French ships are no longer fair game and I’m now a pirate! How’s that, you ask? When the they steal your cargo, it’s a “prize of war” - when you return the courtesy, well, that’s piracy!!

It seems the damned Frogs were also a bit upset that I sank a few of their ships.

How many? - perhaps a dozen, maybe more…..

Not finding a gallows to my liking, we hid from the French in the only place a Frenchman would never look…..

France.

One dark and stormy night, the Baroness and I took our comfort in what might be generously deemed a tavern - it was “The Old Brown Cow” - or some such name. While the ale was tolerable enough, the port sherry truly pleased my palate and I indulged more than a gentleman should. That’s the only excuse I have for what follows….

The “entertainment” on that evening was an odd lot of gypsies. One woman danced and tried to coax a few coins from the patrons. Three others tried to coax a danceable tune from instruments that had clearly seen better days.

The dancer might have succeeded were it not for a man that sat close by. He seemed pleasant enough, but would always favor any patron that paid too much attention to the dancer with a deadpan glare that warned any man to keep his distance. That he also kept a rapier within arm’s reach didn’t help her income a bit.

The Baroness yawned, looked bored, and excused herself.

Moments later, ‘twas then that six men entered…..

By the look of them, they were the Sheriff, four bailiffs, and a somewhat aggrieved-looking farmer.

“That’s her! - That’s the thieving wench!”

The dancer froze but a moment, then ran for the kitchen door - and right into the arms of a waiting bailiff. He spun the woman around, seized her by the scruff of the neck and pinned one arm behind her back.

“Release her.”

It was the fellow with the rapier who spoke. It was a simple, dry, matter-of-fact command that a prudent man would heed.

Prudent men were in short supply that night.

“Or what?”

May the Gods save us from such idiots. The idiot in question was the youngest bailiff. The youth compounded his lunacy by drawing a sword and turning to face the seated man.

With a speed I would not have credited to a mortal, the man rose, and unsheathed the rapier. One fluid blow stuck the sword from the bailiff’s hand and the return stroke pinned the fool against a wall.

When everything stopped moving, the room was full of bared steel.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the blond gypsy woman that had played the fiddle had chosen her targets and was quietly readying two throwing knives.

“Gentlemen…..”

I stood and walked to the center of the room, clearly unarmed and brandishing only my purse.

“….there’s no need for this to end badly.”

I held out the purse to the farmer and shook it so that all could hear the coins inside. I saw no reason to reveal that those coins were but a handful of coppers.

“What was taken? A few eggs - perhaps a chicken or two? Surely those things are not worth a man’s life.”

“The first man who moves, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

A familiar feminine voice - the Baroness had returned. She stood in the kitchen doorway brandishing a wheel-lock that I had given her some time ago.

“Put the pistol down, my dear - there’s no need for that. I’ll explain later.”

“I step out for a moment to visit the loo and when I come back you’re surrounded by armed men while holding your purse out! And this is the thanks I get? I’ll be damned if I ever save your sorry Saxon arse….”

She never finished the tirade because a deafening report filled the room. The Sheriff’s hat was shredded, but thankfully the head below it was spared.

I really did intend to have the pistol repaired someday. Whenever the clockwork was over-wound, the trigger pawl had a nasty habit of slipping, causing the gun to fire without actually pulling the trigger.

In truth, I can remember but snippets of what followed - things did happen faster than the most even-tempered of men could observe.

I’ll give the gypsies credit for being a quick-witted lot - everyone of them seized whatever opportunity the confusion provided.

The dancer broke free when she came down hard on her captor’s toes with her heel. She then wheeled about and settled a private debt. While I didn’t witness what she did to his nethers, his bulging eyes bespoke the result.

I don’t recall which of them grabbed the Baroness & I pulled us out the door.

We were guided along a path through the woods that I could not have found, let alone followed in the dark. Presently, we entered their encampment and were given food and drink and a place to rest.

“The Sherengro wants to meet you two. Address her as the ‘Rani Bari’. She’s been told what happened at the tavern.”

The woman sat at the edge of a campfire and barely took note of our approach. Her attention centered on some cards that were spread out on a small carpet.

“You two are bit old for brawlin’, eh?”

“I fear we’re at the mercy of your hospitality, Rani Bari. Everything we had is back at the Tavern. We dare not return for it.”

“This Kumpania honors its debts and its friends.”

The woman fell silent and scowled at the cards. She gathered them up and laid them out again. Whatever was divulged did not please her, for she quickly gathered them up again. Suddenly, her face brightened - as if seeing something obvious for the first time.

“Well damn me for being a fool! The cards can’t reveal unless I know your names!”

“We are Bardulf and Morwenna, Baron and Baroness at your service.”

The Sherengro paused. Clearly she suspected the vagabonds before her were of a couple of loons. She then favored us with a gently tolerant smile that is used in the company of small children.

“Baron? Baroness?? Forgive my lack of manners! I’m Dulcinaya, The Queen of Egypt! Welcome to my royal court!

Dulcinaya shuffled the cards one more time and laid them out.

“The cards say you’re going to stay with us for a while.”

Baron Bardulf

2009-06-14T20:46:00.001-07:00

http://bordervalekeep.com

How were we kidnapped by the gypsies? Did I say kidnapped? Well, not really kidnapped…. It’s a bit more complicated than that.

Have a seat my friend, and for the price of an ale, I’ll tell you a tale…..

By nature, I’m an ordinary seaman with just enough talent to be a second mate. While not a lavish life, it was tolerable enough. Tolerable enough until I happened to take a shine to a Cornish lass.

That girl had a mind for merchanting. ‘Tis known that not many need a keg of nails and fewer yet have the money to buy a keg of nails - but everyone needs a few nails now and then.

It wasn’t long before she discovered that when you sold nails by the dozen, you could earn more than the money it cost to buy the same number of nails by the keg. Pretty soon, we had a profitable ship chandler business.

What does any sailor with too much money buy? No, not whiskey - a ship! We bought a run-down, old merchantman that brought us a tidy profit in trade with the Dutch - which of course we used to buy another ship - and in turn, another!

Do you remember that splendid little war we had with the French a few years back?

I do.

Some sorry Frog man-o-war boarded my ship and stole my cargo!

Facing ruin, I did what a man had to do. I turned privateer - I was not a pirate you understand; all my vessels had a proper letter of marque - signed by the King himself! We showed the damned French what happens when you steal from an Englishman!

That privateering was rather rewarding made the revenge sweeter. Riches and honors came in abundance. My lady & I were proclaimed Baron & Baroness by the King - however, with no Baronial lands they were perhaps empty titles….

So far, so good. ‘Tis said however, that good fortune will test you as surely as any adversity.

Well, the old king (God rest his soul) dies and his idiot son marries a French princess, and just like that, the French are now our allies! -

And just like that, French ships are no longer fair game and I’m now a pirate! How’s that, you ask? When the they steal your cargo, it’s a “prize of war” - when you return the courtesy, well, that’s piracy!!

It seems the damned Frogs were also a bit upset that I sank a few of their ships.

How many? - perhaps a dozen, maybe more…..

Not finding a gallows to my liking, we hid from the French in the only place a Frenchman would never look…..

France.

One dark and stormy night, the Baroness and I took our comfort in what might be generously deemed a tavern - it was “The Old Brown Cow” - or some such name. While the ale was tolerable enough, the port sherry truly pleased my palate and I indulged more than a gentleman should. That’s the only excuse I have for what follows….

The “entertainment” on that evening was an odd lot of gypsies. One woman danced and tried to coax a few coins from the patrons. Three others tried to coax a danceable tune from instruments that had clearly seen better days.

The dancer might have succeeded were it not for a man that sat close by. He seemed pleasant enough, but would always favor any patron that paid too much attention to the dancer with a deadpan glare that warned any man to keep his distance. That he also kept a rapier within arm’s reach didn’t help her income a bit.

The Baroness yawned, looked bored, and excused herself.

Moments later, ‘twas then that six men entered…..

By the look of them, they were the Sheriff, four bailiffs, and a somewhat aggrieved-looking farmer.

“That’s her! - That’s the thieving wench!”

The dancer froze but a moment, then ran for the kitchen door - and right into the arms of a waiting bailiff. He spun the woman around, seized her by the scruff of the neck and pinned one arm behind her back.

“Release her.”

It was the fellow with the rapier who spoke. It was a simple, dry, matter-of-fact command that a prudent man would heed.

Prudent men were in short supply that night.

“Or what?”

May the Gods save us from such idiots. The idiot in question was the youngest bailiff. The youth compounded his lunacy by drawing a sword and turning to face the seated man.

With a speed I would not have credited to a mortal, the man rose, and unsheathed the rapier. One fluid blow stuck the sword from the bailiff’s hand and the return stroke pinned the fool against a wall.

When everything stopped moving, the room was full of bared steel.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the blond gypsy woman that had played the fiddle had chosen her targets and was quietly readying two throwing knives.

“Gentlemen…..”

I stood and walked to the center of the room, clearly unarmed and brandishing only my purse.

“….there’s no need for this to end badly.”

I held out the purse to the farmer and shook it so that all could hear the coins inside. I saw no reason to reveal that those coins were but a handful of coppers.

“What was taken? A few eggs - perhaps a chicken or two? Surely those things are not worth a man’s life.”

“The first man who moves, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

A familiar feminine voice - the Baroness had returned. She stood in the kitchen doorway brandishing a wheel-lock that I had given her some time ago.

“Put the pistol down, my dear - there’s no need for that. I’ll explain later.”

“I step out for a moment to visit the loo and when I come back you’re surrounded by armed men while holding your purse out! And this is the thanks I get? I’ll be damned if I ever save your sorry Saxon arse….”

She never finished the tirade because a deafening report filled the room. The Sheriff’s hat was shredded, but thankfully the head below it was spared.

I really did intend to have the pistol repaired someday. Whenever the clockwork was over-wound, the trigger pawl had a nasty habit of slipping, causing the gun to fire without actually pulling the trigger.

In truth, I can remember but snippets of what followed - things did happen faster than the most even-tempered of men could observe.

I’ll give the gypsies credit for being a quick-witted lot - everyone of them seized whatever opportunity the confusion provided.

The dancer broke free when she came down hard on her captor’s toes with her heel. She then wheeled about and settled a private debt. While I didn’t witness what she did to his nethers, his bulging eyes bespoke the result.

I don’t recall which of them grabbed the Baroness & I pulled us out the door.

We were guided along a path through the woods that I could not have found, let alone followed in the dark. Presently, we entered their encampment and were given food and drink and a place to rest.

“The Sherengro wants to meet you two. Address her as the ‘Rani Bari’. She’s been told what happened at the tavern.”

The woman sat at the edge of a campfire and barely took note of our approach. Her attention centered on some cards that were spread out on a small carpet.

“You two are bit old for brawlin’, eh?”

“I fear we’re at the mercy of your hospitality, Rani Bari. Everything we had is back at the Tavern. We dare not return for it.”

“This Kumpania honors its debts and its friends.”

The woman fell silent and scowled at the cards. She gathered them up and laid them out again. Whatever was divulged did not please her, for she quickly gathered them up again. Suddenly, her face brightened - as if seeing something obvious for the first time.

“Well damn me for being a fool! The cards can’t reveal unless I know your names!”

“We are Bardulf and Morwenna, Baron and Baroness at your service.”

The Sherengro paused. Clearly she suspected the vagabonds before her were of a couple of loons. She then favored us with a gently tolerant smile that is used in the company of small children.

“Baron? Baroness?? Forgive my lack of manners! I’m Dulcinaya, The Queen of Egypt! Welcome to my royal court!

Dulcinaya shuffled the cards one more time and laid them out.

“The cards say you’re going to stay with us for a while.”

Kazimir

2009-06-14T20:44:00.000-07:00

Kazimir is actually the adoptive son of Dulcinaya’s and Tsigan’s Uncle, their father’s twin, but the girls will call him nothing but phral, or brother. He was raised with Tsigane and Lochlann, his cousin, by his Aunt Savina after his parents were killed in the raid on their camp. Sly, charming, and a skilled and graceful dancer, Kaz is as popular with the ladies as his late adoptive father was.

Kaz’s father (and his wife) had no children, so he who took in the illegitimate half-French son of his younger sister. Kaz has a half brother, the French court jester Geldemare LaFacaeur. The two appear to get along, but always seem to be missing one another. The resemblance between the two is uncanny. Both Kaz and his brother can fence, and are also skilled archers.

Awards (Geldemar Le Farceaur)
AoA 10-21-95Nottinghill Coill- Baroness' Award of Courtesy1-12-02Order of the Gordian Knot 1-18-97

Miguel

2009-06-14T20:43:00.000-07:00

www.craftycelts.com

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy nibh euismod tincidunt ut laoreet dolore magna aliquam erat volutpat. Ut wisi enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit lobortis nisl ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis at vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent luptatum zzril delenit augue duis dolore te feugait nulla facilisi.

Ivar

2009-06-14T20:42:00.000-07:00

Ivar is the son of one of Dulcy’s favorite foster uncles (Turin Ulfsson, of the Truly Tasteless Ulfssons, a Scandindavian rowdy) and a gypsy girl named Keomi Boshengro.

He is a Chess wizard, is quite competent with both rapier and bow, plays drums and pennywhistle, and can also be found around a drum circle at night.

Some of Painted Wheel’s funniest stories involve Ivar, including the time he bobbed for beer without getting wet, and the time he passed armor inspection using a plumber’s helper for a cup

Katherine

2009-06-14T20:39:00.001-07:00

“It all began nine long years ago. The people who had raised me told me their dark secret. I had a sister somewhere!

They told the story of how my parents had been poor and sold their children to different families to get money to live.
My parents were Scotch/Irish, and the family I had lived with most of my life was Irish.

Since I was returning home to stay with them after the death of my husband, they thought it was a good time for me to try to find my siblings. I suspect they were just trying to get rid of me.

“I eventually learned that my younger sister had also been widowed, and had run off with Gypsies a few years back; at least, that’s what I had told by her late husband’s family. I was told her name was Bekka, or something like that, they couldn't remember exactly. She was running from a man she feared and despised, so they begged me not to tell anyone else where she might be hiding. I decided to take off on my own to try to find my sister.

“I traveled across the country till I met a Frenchman named Vincent D’Orleans in a pub one night. He was kind. I told him of my quest to locate my sister. He listened intently, offering in the end to be an escort, to protect me from the perils of the road. He had a nice voice, and strong kind hands. I thought I would trust him and travel with him. We traveled together for eight long years and grew quite fond of each other. Finally, while waiting in a small ocean village for the Gypsy troupe to make their annual pass through the town, we were married.

“Just this last year we have joined with a traveling Gypsy group, after some initial tribulation. I think one of them, who calls herself Aysha, could be my sister. Vincent thinks so too.”

Vincent D'Orleans

2009-06-14T20:38:00.000-07:00

Vincent D’Orleans is French. This is why we don’t let him be alone with Silvermist.

Seriously.

He is always trying to either sell her, or worse, serve her for supper. Look at this recipe he came up with.

Sick.

On the upside, Vincent is an amazingly talented songwriter. He sings, plays the djembe, and has created and arranged the Painted Wheel Song, to name just one of what is an impressive collection of tunes.

He is also the beloved husband of Katherine D'Orleans.

Denys

2009-06-14T20:36:00.000-07:00

Baroness Delia the Flamable

2009-06-14T19:53:00.000-07:00

Delia is a skilled fortune-teller, be it by reading palms or using a dukkering tambour. She is highly artistic and nimble-fingered.

She is married to Elphin ap Daphid, an outsider. This rankles Dulcy no end, as she really does not feel that he is worthy of her. The only reason Dulcy had tolerated him is for fear of losing Delia, who is an excellent source of income for the tribe. Delia is a skilled archer and dancer as well, with a quick, light wit and a merry disposition.

Awards
AoASpirit of the Mountain 1-25-03

Aysha

2009-06-14T19:45:00.001-07:00

Aysha is a woman who, at great risk to herself, tipped the tribe off that they were to be arrested at one of their stops. It was soon revealed that she was desperate to escape a forced marriage to a man she despised and feared.

The gypsies promised her what protection they could offer in return for her brave act of kindness toward them. She is quiet and no-nonsence, but friendly, with a wry wit and an independent spirit.

At night, she may well be drumming away with Ivar, Vincent and Kaz around the campfire.

Elphin

2009-06-14T19:40:00.000-07:00

Elphin, who is not Romany, married into the tribe at the extreme chagrin of Dulcy. Having originally failed to pay a suitable bride-price, his later offers were repeatedly turned away as being insulting, until he got smart and bribed everyone in the tribe with gifts before making his next offer to Dulcy. With the rest of the tribe behind him, Dulcy had no choice but to grudgingly accept his offer for Delia’s hand.

Elphin is easygoing and quiet, with an acerbic, deadpan wit that runs from mildly smart-alecky to hilariously abusive. He usually starts out any note he might send to Dulcy "Dear Black-haired Wretch."

He is a very skilled fencer, and has attained the rank of Provost.

Awards
Companion of the Sword Knot 3-6-97Companion of the Coill's Champion 3-4-00

Rani Dulcinaya the 'Gypcian

2009-06-14T19:12:00.000-07:00

http://www.fivedollarmail.blogspot.com/

Literally, "Big-lady Dulcinaya" is the sherengro, or chief of Kumpania Painted Wheel. The oldest Romany primary persona in Atlantia, Dulcy has been around since the days they could fit all the merchants into the barn at Pensic and still have room for dancing.

She is a fortune-teller, primarily reading cards and tea-leaves, and also an authorized fencer.

In her childhood, she was a ward of Lady Bronwyn of House White Phoenix, a household of dubiously-gained wealth, after being rescued from a burning vardo during an attack on her tribe. She has managed to find and reunite the descendants of her scattered kin.

Awards
AoA 9-8-84
Companion of the Gordian Knot 9-14-02

***