From the personal diary of King Gabriel Black

From the personal diary of King Gabriel Black

Captain Peechy Keene

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As she slouched against the mast, surveying the mayhem and carnage all about her
on deck, pained to see so many of her valiant crew lying mortally wounded, she
thought, “Well damnitall, it was a helluva fight. At least the storm did in the
wretched Spaniards and that bastard Bingham took flight; pity that cannon blowed
up in our faces.” She winced as she unwisely moved a shoulder, feeling the
blood start to soak her greatcoat. “I do truly begin to wonder if I’ll survive
this one meownself?”

The next thing she knew, a kind hand was gently bathing her face. She opened
her eyes to find herself resting in her own bed, and saw, not her first mate as
she expected but a middle-aged woman with a kindly face, bending over her,
having cleaned and dressed her injuries. “And who and wherefore might ye be,
Lass? Ye look familiar but I ken not your name nor from where I might know ye.”

The blonde curly-haired woman quirked a smile, raised an eyebrow with a look
Grania suddenly recalled of the well-beloved, long-ago tutor her father had
brought to the Connemara castle-keep to teach her Latin and letters and such.
Grania twitched with surprise, “Becca? Could it truly be thee or have I died and
am now seeing a very Angel before me eyes?” At this, Becca chortled and said,
“Nay, Lass, ye be not dead but as near to it as bears no mind; would ye be
hurtin’ as ye are if you had passed the Veil?”

Grania agreed that she hurt too richly for a proper corpse but also noticed that
Becca didna answer her question. She started to talk more, but Becca shooshed
her and said, “Verily, you’re as like to a corpse as I ever care to see ye.
Tell me true, Lass, if I told you that I carrid power enough to heal your wounds
and winnow away about a score of years from your age, what would you say, and
would you go with me, sight unseen to a faraway place? Leave all this behind
and mayhaps never come back but live on to other grand adventures?”

“Ach, Becca, are ye the divil himself to tempt me thus or the Angel I named you
before? You know that the bedamned English are piece and parceling away all our
lands, absconding with our herds and our titles and I dinna have the strength
anymore to stop them.” Angry tears coursed her cheeks at the memory of her
son’s betrayal and the thought that she could no longer protect her clan as she
had boldly done in years past.

Becca smiled at her tenderly, brushed back the reddish curls from her forehead
and said, “Granuille, dear, I know well and ken the pain in your heart. I vow
to ye that I will not allow harm come to your people, if you will come with me
to a special place. You’ve been called to a higher duty.” Grania chortled
weakly, “Ach what, a heavenly counsel? I’ve been minded that I’d go to Hades
for all my long years of varied sins.” After letting out a bellowing laugh,
Becca replied, “No, not a heavenly counsel but a counsel none the less, and
important work that needs your hand and mind. What do you say, come with me and
live again?”

Grania shrugged and then hissed and thought better of the action, “Ach well,
sure and why not? Leave someone else to clean up the mess for awhile.” With
that, Becca leaned over, gently closed her eyes and Grania felt herself lifted
as if on a cloud before she lost consciousness.

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Feb. 11th 1620 Dawn

I awoke again from the nightmare that has haunted me since my youth. I speak of
it as such only because it’s effects altered me thoughts as a lad. As it
occurs it seems more as a memory with fear felt long ago as a present nightmare.
I often wonder if Dionysus blesses me with passions as to dream of horrors
still. Aye it took a mighty dream indeed to scare me as a lad, as in me life it
T’was a daily struggle to stay sane at times.

I was raised in the back alley’s and slums of “The Old City” as I will
call it. Though raised is perhaps the wrong term. I don’t remember much of my
youngest years until about 6 or 7 when I was found on the docks rummaging
through the alley’s and the taverns waste for food, be it living or dead.

That is when he found me. Like everyone else I called him guild master
Crossbane. He had a name but one I don’t speak nor put to ink. He called me
blackie. It had more to do with my appearance than anything else I’m sure. As
I grew he trained me in the arts of thievery and stealth, as well as more
civilized skills grooming me for a possible slot in the cities hierarchy one
day. He was a cruel man and his heart was black as pitch and I’ve often
wondered why he took me in that day. It wasn’t as if I was special there were
many homeless children wandering those cursed alleyways.

Enough about me. …………I write this to explain as to the understanding I
received this morn when the Bos’n captured a stowe away in one of our store
crates. A young lad no more than the age I was when I was plucked from the dark
streets. He was brought into my quarters and the Bos’n had plenty of ideas as
to what to do with him. I was attuned to allow him to do what he wished with the
lad when the boy looked into my eyes and I saw it………………I saw the
reason guild master Crossband saved me. The boy reminded me of myself.

I have taken him in just as my mentor did for me. I’ve given him the name
“Lil Bit”. He will serve on the Black Dog and I will find very good use of
him when we are in port as well. Children can often find there ways through many
places and situations that might come in very handy indeed. I will begin
teaching him tomorrow. Not just the skills of a cut throat but the skills of a
civilized man as well. I will teach him the arts of languages and poetry and the
ways of speech. If a man has a strong mind and can speak intelligently he can
accomplish so much more.

~Capt’n. Gabriel Black

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Tired, oh, so very tired.

If there had been an easy way to end it all, she would have done so, many
decades ago. The days bled together like sands in the glass,  impossible to
differentiate, bland to the eye and the touch, no color, no hint of light or
dark; just one continuing span of time with no direction and no hope.

Had she been more desperate, she might have considered joining the Unseelie,  at
least there, it was possible to find a way to end things in a flash of glory.
But her oath was sworn to her Queen as was her heart, and she was no
oathbreaker; to do that would be to negate all of her work, the centuries of
instruction given to Seelie younglings and, most especially, the Queen.

Nimue An, teacher and tutor, and, once long ago, nanny to Her Magnificence the
Faerie Queen, Titania, stared into the tiny bright flames that danced in the
fire pit in her quarters. While she had no particular need for the heat, the
light was comforting and offered a warmth to the cold stone walls as she
reflected upon the past few months.

There had been much discussion about the fate of the fae. A genuine fear had
begun to build within the ranks of the court, that they would find themselves
locked away from Gaia as the humans who currently inhabited it moved from a
direct link with the land and into a new `fantasy’ within their own minds.

Discussions with emissaries from the Unseelie court had commenced, albeit with
cautions and concerns on both sides. Scouts from both courts had been scouring
the land, looking for the bridges that traditionally allowed passage between the
world of the humans and the fae. Their reports were not encouraging; the
bridges were crumbling from lack of use and disappearing entirely as their
anchor points on the human side were destroyed or damaged beyond recovery.

Nimue cared not for the scouts or their reports; her private bridge was intact
and likely to remain so, for its anchors were buried deep beneath the rocks that
formed Lands End (in Cornwall, in the southwest corner of England) and the
waterfall that marked the entrance to her own quarters, a cave some distance
from the ring that surrounded the Seelie royal dwelling. While Mother Gaia
herself might cause the rocks to fall in a mighty upheaval on earth, the anchors
would remain; having the human-side entry point under the sea would be of no
concern to Nim, whose own access point could only be entered through the cloudy
waters that foamed in front of her home.

After her young Queen had reached full maturity and ascended the Faerie Throne,
Nimue had asked to retire from active teaching duties within the court, citing
advancing age and a failing of strength as reasons. Titania gladly assented,
asking only that Nimue come to court upon occasion to offer pleasing music,
alone or in the company of those companions that she might encounter during her
travels.

Titania knew full well that Nimue had her own reasons for retiring, age and
strength were less of an issue than a need to maintain contact with humans and
their music, contact that was sometimes not suitable for youngling fae to try to
understand.

But even Titania did not know of Nimue’s darkest secret.

Nimue was looking for a particular human, a young male who carried a part of
her own essence…

Her son.

______________________________________________________________________________

Nimue raised her head and listened – someone was approaching. She stood up, slowly and carefully – age was, indeed, taking its toll upon her, or perhaps more time spent in the human realms than was healthy. Stepping forward, she scried through the falling water, seeing a courtier standing by the pool, looking confused. There was no visible access to her home, unless she willed it so.

“Hmm, wearing the sigil of Titania – I suppose that I should see what he wants.” She looked back once more at the flames, then made her way slowly through the door to the outside.

From the courtier’s point of view, Nimue simply `appeared’ at the edge of the pool. He knew full well that she had magicked the entrance to her home, but could see no place for an access portal at all – only a small pool filled with foaming cloudy water pouring from the even smaller rock ledge that jutted out from the hill just beyond. It looked far too insignificant to contain a cave, but he had been specifically told to go to that pool and wait, making certain that Titania’s insignia was clearly visible on his garb. Plainly, his informants knew what to expect.

The courtier was too young to have received his music instruction from the Seelie Maestro, Lady Nimue An, but he had heard many tales of her ability to create illusion with her music, and was wise enough to understand that one as ancient and venerable as she was never to be underestimated or trifled with. So, he stepped forward and bowed respectfully, then offered a sealed scroll for her to read. She accepted it with a nod and turned away to read it, waving a hand in release.

“Your pardon, my lady. I was told to wait for a reply.”

She nodded again, but did not speak, as she struggled to decipher Titania’s message. The writing was clear, but there was some kind of fog upon the paper, an attempt at keeping the contents secret. After a moment longer, Nimue sighed and looked up at the courtier.

“It would appear that the best reply would be for me to accompany you back to the court. Titania has asked a boon of me, and I would be less than kind to refuse her. Please give me a moment to gather some things, and we will return at once.”

In almost no time, Nimue and her escort were approaching the outer ring of the royal enclave. She looked around; it was a busy area, and many of the fae who were gathered in small groups around the confines of the first ring were unfamiliar to her. She felt an unease when she noticed that there were masked fae in some of the groups – the Unseelie were here in far larger numbers than she had expected. While she had no particular quarrel with Queen Mab and her cohorts, Nim also knew that Mab’s preferred music was of a dark sort, as was that of her King; Nimue had no desire to hear such music or see either of them any time soon.

Nimue pulled her thoughts away from the memories of a young faery who had been such a trial during his instruction years, and she moved quickly through the inner ring portal. This entry point was `keyed’ to those who had personal access to Titania – others could use it, but only with the help of the Queen’s personal guardians. Nim had no such restriction, however; rank hath its privilege, as did longevity, and Nim was forever welcome in Titania’s inner sanctum.

Once inside though, Nimue was caught up short by a sight rarely seen in the Shining Kingdom of the Seelie – a *human* was standing beside the Queen!

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May 4th 1722

We dropped anchor in Spittlefield three days ago and made a run of the pleasures
it has to offer. I’ve lost a few crew as of late and I feel it our recent skills
of acumen. The crew is too fat with booty and rum. We have been very
successful……..perhaps too successful. I feel they’ve a need to be put to sea
for a few weeks as the passions of land are making them soft. At least me title
has not been challenged and no ones stood to put it to a vote.

May 7th 1722

The Black Dog has been caught up in another time storm for two nights now.
Unnatural lightning rips across our hull lighting up the sky but causing no
damage to the ship nor crew. This be the first time that its vexed us for this
long of a period. However it warms the heart to see the crew receive what was
needed to bring them back to life and awares.

May 8th 1722 evening

The storm still continues and we’ve no bearing a’tall. Cherry has made attempts
at controlling the weather only to tell me that according to her arts IT’S NOT
STORMING!! Blast this accursed magick, will it ever stop and where and when will
we be when it does.

May 9th 1722

A greenish glow pulsed from the very wall of my quarters. I approached it and
place my hand upon it only to be grabbed by some unseen force that softly set me
down on a lush meadow. I was no longer on the ship!!I collected myself and
realized that I was surrounded by little people. They resembled dragonflies
zipping here and there occasionally one would hover in front of me and zip away
as if beckoning me to follow. They wore the most curious attire and smelled of
various sweet botanicals.

I followed them for some time through a forest which was teaming with life until
we came to a clearing. As I entered the ring in the clearing I saw many
magnificent beings. Some had wings and bright eyes while others wore masks and
some even had horns protruding from their heads!! Though this all was so very
strange I felt no fear. I felt as if I belonged here…..as if it was my home.

As I looked about I became aware that this was a Royal entourage and one where I
was the only human that was present. Me eyes gazed upon creatures of many a
strange sort. Then I heard music which seemed to cascade from the trees
surrounding the ring as if announcing something or someone of great import.

That is when I saw her……beauty beyond understanding. Her attire was of the
earth. Greens of many a shade reflecting light that seemed to be emanating from
her itself. A crown which levitated by some unseen force above her head as a
halo would. Her eyes sparkled and pierced through me calming my soul but my mind
warned me of danger. Heralds announced her entrance….”The Glorious and
Magnificent Queen Titiana”. I heard grumbles from those that wore masks and a
growl came from the outer edge of the ring. It was mixed with cheers and
glittering dust of many colors appeared in the air as if appearing from thin
air.

I realized this was not a normal meeting for sure. “Why was I hear”? I thought
to myself. As if she heard my thoughts she smiled and spoke. “Welcome King
Gabriel”. “We of the Fae are so very excited to have one of our own return to
the ring”.

“What does she mean one of their own”? As I contemplated this with great
confusion I started to speak to her and out of the corner of my eye another
human entered the ring near Titiana. She was familiar to me but I knew I had
never laid my eyes upon this women before. She honorably greeted Titiana and the
court, but seemed to have great interest in me and a look of confusion upon her
face. Titiana smiled at her with great joy as if seeing a long lost friend and
said “Welcome home Nimue”………I began to sweat and the heat gave me a
chill…….That is when I awoke in my quarters to the sound of snapping timbers
and the bellows of the guns!!

~Gabriel

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Esmerelda

Feeling the swell beneath her, Esmerelda could feel the sea trying to comfort
her like a lover after a fight, trying to make up for all it had taken. Years
she had been in this relationship with her, the sea. Years she had given to
her, and years she had taken from her. Long after she had begun this journey
she wondered what life would have been like on land. If she had married and had
children. If she had fallen in love and settled into a life that her mother had
dreamed of for her.

The man she was supposed to have married at the tender age of 13 was known to
have at least beaten his previous wives, and at most to have been the reason
they left this world in a pine box. She just recieved word that he had died
peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 68. He had married another of
her cousins who did stay alive. She had three children with him. From all
accounts she was alone most of the time in their country home. Esmerelda
imagined that he had come home periodically to take his right by marriage. But
he spent most his time in town with his whores and his drink. Money and power,
the man had, but love she imagined had illuded him. He was a horrible man when
she had known of him in her youth. Her aunt had heard of the way his previous
wives had passed and had put Esmerelda on a ship with a bit of money and dressed
as a boy. Her hope was that she would find a life worth living on the sea,
where land could not put it’s grips on her.

Taking a deep breath of the sea air and sending her silent thanks out to her
lover, the sea, Esmerelda turned to look back onto the deck where her brothers
worked on making it to the next port. They had just had a huge haul and she
could still, in her mind, see the other ship on fire sinking into the sea. Men
jumping off the flaming ship to die maybe days later floating on the water.
They had hope of being picked up or making it to land when they went into the
drink, but those things were likely not to happen. When she was younger, these
things bothered her, but as she aged she realized the necessity of these things.
We all ended up back here on this earth again anyway, and maybe they would come
back in a better situation.
Catching the smell of sea and warm cinnamon she knew Roger was nearby. He was
the one thing that kept her going when nothing else could. Loving him was
something she hadn’t expected at her age. Sea and sun had taken it’s toll on
her body. Joints did not function anymore like they did. But somehow he seemed
to see past everything she had built up around her and he did not fear her.
Most men did. She had made quite a name for herself amongst those at sea.
Captain Black had originally brought her on as a Spanish captive, but soon her
skills had lead her to be the ship’s surgeon, or her prefered title “Leech”.
But circumstnaces had made her into his information gatherer, or her prefered
title “torturer”. Over the years she now found the sound of whimpering and
screaming almost erotic. It meant she was doing her job right. And she had
devoloped many ways of doing it that left very few marks if she wished it. It
really all depended on what message the captain wanted to send with the
body…alive or dead.

______________________________________________________________________________

Date: May 1722 (linear time)

Seelie spells are waxing and lush, as the flower of Spring, even now dreaming of Summer, is in full flush.  And yet, the magicks that Sepsis and I weave hold their strength, and arrest the mortals in their waking and slumber.  For as their ships quake on shifting seas, so do their hearts tremble, and my King and I grin as a pair of owls over soft, pulsing throats.

To place a human or any other creature within the depths of the Outback of their soul, where the only pathways through must be carved out by skeleton hands of fears, shadows, lusts, and memories long buried, is one of the great Unseelie Arts-of which there are many, and many never to be spoken of.

This Art was first taught to me by my mother the Cailleach Bheur, blue-faced hag of Winter is she.  And when Sepsis and I were wed by the Midnight Court on the Burren, we pledged, despite our differences to work this rite together for the causes and wants of the Unseelie Queendom.  Yes, I said Queendom.

And there in those outbacks under the gaze of the Queen of Dreams and Shades do mortal’s secrets turn to mica.

……We lean in and listen at the edge of the Ring.  Ritual growls at the announcement of the arrival of the Seelie witch Titania, and then promptly regurgitates a pellet stinking of the sparkles of Seelie rats.  Along with being an excellent spy, Ritual offers me amusing behaviors.

It is then that I see him.  King Gabriel has been ushered deep within the Ring by Seelie magic.  He will soon remember his bloodline.  His is an outback I have haunted before.  And if my divinations prove correct, and they always do, there is urgent need for me to shadow that landscape again.

To the tree,
Through the door,
Down the steps to the ivied floor,
Where the bones of the unholy dead do play,
And dance their chants
For Mab to say.

______________________________________________________________________________

Nimue stared at the man standing beside her Queen; the stance, with the two of
them, was a familiar one. Something nibbled in the back of her mind , where had
she seen that image? A vision from long ago flashed before her eyes , Titania
as a youngling surrounded by other young fae

And a human man-child.

Trying not to show the turmoil that threatened to overtake her, Nimue stepped
forward and offered a reverence, careful not to bow too low. Nim, by age and
experience, actually ranked as the most senior member of the court, but the
Queen of the Seelies was deserving of her respect, and it was more than
appropriate for Nimue to show the younger Seelie that Titania was her Queen as
well as theirs. As she straightened, she saw Titania glance from her to the
human with a small puzzled frown.

Nimue promptly schooled her own face to a quiet calm, and inwardly scolded
herself; if her suspicions were correct, Titania would be shocked and possibly
angered by the information that would, at some point, have to be revealed, but
that revelation should *not* come in front of court and guests. So she merely
glanced once again at the human, then said, “My Queen, I return once again to
your presence. How may I serve you?”

Titania smiled at her and replied, “Lady Nim! I am grateful that you are
feeling well enough to grace our courts once more. May I hope that you might
have some new music for us today? Or perhaps a little time to confer with me on
a small matter?” She dropped a surreptitious wink.

Nimue cocked her head and looked at Titania. “Of course, Your Majesty, I am at
your service, as always. Would you care to have Myst and Lisle demonstrate some
dance steps while I play for a bit? Or would it be better to discuss that small
matter now and then enjoy music and dancing?”

Titania nodded, then turned to the rest of the court, “Pray, excuse me for a
moment.” The Seelie obediently turned and began conversing amongst themselves,
while the Unseelie looked askance at both Titania and Nimue, then moved apart
and began to mutter discontentedly. Titania stepped down and headed for an
alcove, with Nimue following, then stopped and looked back. The human was
standing alone at the edge of the dais, looking confused.

“Captain Black, attend me, if you will.” She held out her hand, palm down. The
captain looked startled and more than a little nervous, then moved slowly to her
side and slid his hand under hers, falling in step with her. They moved
forward, and thus missed the look of intense satisfaction that appeared for just
a moment in Nimue’s eyes , a look that was noted by at least one member of the
Unseelie Court.

Once the trio had moved through the curtain into a small side room, Titania
dropped her hand � the confusion and outright fear in Gabriel’s being were
starkly apparent. She then stepped over to a table at the side and reached for
a small, faded book sitting there. She turned and looked from Captain Black to
Nimue and back, then looked down at the book in her hands, and sighed. Looking
up again, she signaled for Nimue to come forward.

“Lady Nimue An, may I make known to you Captain Gabriel Black, who bears the
title of Pirate King of Barataria? He has been brought to our court in the
hopes that he, and those who have accompanied him here, might aid us in our
quest to rebuild our links with the human world. But he himself has a request
for help.”

Nimue turned and, for the first time, looked fully at Captain Black. She liked
what she saw; if her senses spoke truth, she would be more than happy to help in
almost any endeavor that this man might ask. Turning back to Titania, she said,
“What is it you wish, my dear? Is it perhaps related to that journal you hold?”

Titania glanced at Nimue in surprise. “Well, yes it is. Captain Black has been
talking to a number of humans who spend most of their lives sailing the seas as
traders.”

“Ah, Captain Black, you are a pirate, eh? Or mayhaps a privateer?” Nimue
smiled to remove the sting such words might portray. Gabriel smiled back,
looking quizzically at her, and said, “Aye, my lady, I ply the seas but on my
own terms, thankee. And yes, my request is based on information that I found
while reading through some entries in that journal that your Queen holds.” He
looked at Titania, “If I may, Your Majesty?” Titania nodded, and Gabriel turned
back to Nimue.

“My lady, my companions and I are, indeed, attempting to develop a plan for
action to give our fellow humans a better understanding of you and your kind.
Our numbers are large, but, for many reasons, there are but few females among
us. I would like your help to correct that.” He looked at Nimue, who nodded in
response as he continued, “I found this journal in an old trunk some years ago
and was struck by the knowledge that the person who wrote this was a pirate much
like myself, but female. That is not at all in the common way of things, yet
the woman speaks constantly of the need to protect her lands and her home, and I
understand that full well. She would be a valued addition in the endeavor to
our council of pirates.”

Titania spoke up, “Nim, do you remember telling me stories of the women who kept
their lands intact even while their men went off to war against each other?
This woman seems to be very much in that mold; she may be able to offer some
ideas.”

Nimue nodded, “Who is this woman whose journal you hold? And why is she not
already here with the rest of the humans?” Gabriel replied, “She lived in
Ireland during the time of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth of England and fought
against the ravages of Queen Bess’s lieutenants. Her name is Grania Ni Maille,
or sometimes Grace O’Malley.”

Nimue muttered, sotto voce, “*Don’t* call her Grace, not if you want any sort of
cooperation from her,” then dropped all expression as both Gabriel and Titania
looked oddly at her. She continued in a normal tone, “So this woman pirate
lived during a time period when very few of you existed, and, as a result, she
did not have an opportunity to join you earlier�”

Gabriel looked a bit unhappy. “Well, truth be told, I am not at all certain
that she would have been willing to join us flat out. She’s not the sort of
person who would be willing to listen to the tales of men.”

Titania smiled, “Nim, she needs to hear about us, and this, from a female, one
who can help her see that coming to join in this endeavor would be a good and
proper thing. And you are just the sort of person who could convince her of
that � I know it.”

Nimue nodded, “I understand. Very well then, I will do it. May I have that
book that you hold, my dear?” Titania passed it to her, and Nimue opened it
carefully, looking through the first few entries and grimacing, “‘Twas a hard
time for her, it seems, and I am sorry for it,such a sweet lass as she was.”
Titania looked startled, and Gabriel seemed a bit bemused, but both relaxed as
Nimue closed the cover and looked up once more.

“And now, my Queen, do you wish music for a while before I depart once again?”

______________________________________________________________________________

From the journals of her Glorious Majesty Queen Titania Most Noble of the Bright
Seelie Fae.

I woke this morn with a dream I had in the night still fresh upon my thoughts.
It was of the kind that I knew was more memory than fiction. I was a young child
newly born. Decades away I was from taking my place at court. Perhaps only 7 or
8 years.

Sitting in the garden, the sun shown warm upon my face, however I found myself
crying. Tears were falling from my eyes as only a few short minutes ago I had
left the company of young Maab. As always with my young cousin, Maab found ways
of using her tongue to cut the deepest wounds. For even though she may coat her
words with honey, the sting that lies beneath brings ever fresh pain.

As a shadow falls upon me I look up. At first I cannot see the features of the
one who stands over me, but immediately he moves to sit at my front. I gaze into
the ocean blue eyes of the one who had come to be my friend. He is at least in
part, if not completely, human. Never did I question why he was at court, for he
seemed to have always been there.

Gently he takes my hand, and wipes the tears from my face. With this boy I felt
at peace. His presence alone assured me that all was right in the world, and as
long as this one was by my side never again would I feel the pain of wounds such
as these. For when all else failed, this one of near mortal blood could bring
the song of joy to my heart.

It was at this time that dawn’s early light woke me from the blessings of
Morpheus. That was a dream I have had many times throughout my long life. Try
though I might I cannot remember who that boy could have been. It was soon after
that time in my life that I found myself alone among my peers. No longer did I
have a confidante, someone with whom I could unburden my heart, knowing that he
would judge me not. Even now I wonder what happened to the boy child of my early
youth.

Now, however, is not the time to dwell upon such things. For rise, must I to
greet this auspicious morn. For today is the day hope once again comes to the
world of the Fae in the form of something most unusual. Today is the day I
finally get to meet the Pirates.

____________________________________________________________________________

From The Personal Diary of King Gabriel Black

Sept. 1732

Another dream came to me last night. It was a dream that was so very real, as if a waking dream, or a memory. It seems familiar but at the same time like it’s someone elses memory and not my own.

Strange construction surrounded the courtyard with various bright colored tapestries dangling here and there. It was summer and I wore nothing but a loincloth and though it was hot I was still very comfortable. Beautiful music filled the air coming from unseen bards playing various instruments just beyond sight.  Gazing around the courtyard my eyes came to rest upon a young girl. As I looked upon her I knew she was my friend, my good friend……..my best friend.

I often spoke to her and comforted her when she was vexed. She looked up to me and made me feel apart of her life. A life, which she was destined to rule as a Queen. It was not often we had days like this. Days to just enjoy each other’s company and relax forgetting the troubles of life.

As I sat next to her in the grass we spoke no words, we did not need to. Our friendship was so close at times there were no need for words. However I had a journal and quill in hand and was putting to pen things that we had experienced with one another. A book journaling our time together. I knew some of the things I was writing pertained to knowledge that she would need to remember. Things that we both had been taught by the wisest of instructors.

I awoke wondering where that journal had gone I had not thought of it in many years. Then I realized it was a dream……and a strange one it was.

~Gabriel

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From the diary of Gabriel

April 1445

I’m sure that Spring has sprung.

I met my good friend the princess in the gardens this morning. I love playing with her. We sat listening to the bards while eating fruit. She is very good at koob but I suspect she is using some sort of magic to beat me.

I love this place but there are times I feel like I don’t belong here, but never when I’m with Titanna. Her cousin Mab, and brother Sepsis often send leering glares in my direction and many of the Fae are starting to look at me as if I’m different or something is wrong with me. I have noticed that the magic they use comes natural to them but I really have to concentrate to use mine. I’m often aware of their glamor spells and have a natural immunity to it but my own skills tend to weigh more toward physical prowess than actual magic. I’m beginning to wonder what is different about me? Why am I not growing wings? It is obvious that I’m being allowed to spend time with the Princess but as each day passes I’m being kept separate from the others.

Lady Nim seems to be proud of how quickly I have picked up the language of music, but I sense she is troubled about something. Perhaps she is vexed about my lack of skills in the other Fae ways? Her instruction is very helpful but when I inquire about anything other than the music she tends to shy away from explaining or helping me in that area. I asked her what my last name and title was today, because all the other Fae fit into certain groups and seasons. All she said was that I will soon begin understanding. Why do all the other Fae that are my age know but I do not?

I fear the others including The King and Queen of the Fae are talking about me. I love being with the Princess and the gardens are a very serene place but I fear I don’t belong here for some reason.

I lost my temper yesterday with one of the noble Fae boys and it seems he is still under the care of the healers. Nim has told me that I cannot be physical with them because their wings are fragile.

I am different than them but the same in some ways. I’m scared that they will take me away from here soon. I’m not sure how I know that but I feel it in my gut. If they do I will miss the Princess so very much. So much that I don’t want to think about it.

The keeper of the dust came to my chamber this evening and sprinkled me with a red dust and told me that it would ground me and give me strength. Why do I need to be grounded!? I would rather be able to fly!

~Gabriel

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To Whom It May Concern (This includes all Arctic Animals):

I shall be away for an uncertain amount of time. I doubt you will worry, for I
understand I am the most hated creature in the North. However, if I find the
least bit of cheer on, in, or around my home, I can assure you, there will be
hellish consequences to pay. If you are wise, you will not question.

I suppose I will relay some information, in case of curiosity:

Last night, as I was getting very comfortable in my perfect cold stone bed,
about to let sleep claim me, Oleander burst through the wall of my cave in a
horrible racket. Covered from head to foot in leaves, twigs, feathers, and fur
(a make-shift pelt, I suppose), she began to breathe in spaced, exhausted
breaths. It seemed she was about to hyperventilate. How marvelous.

Growing impatient, I shrieked, “What do you want so badly that it’s worth
disturbing my sleep?!” After she caught her breath, she rolled her eyes and
stood defiantly, as is her way. “Look you,” she started, “you try to fly as
quickly and as far as I have in such a short time on short notice, cold one.” I
was offended. “Cold?! Don’t degrade me, witch!” Rolling her eyes again, she said
with extremely irrecoverable sarcasm, “Oh, forgive me, Queen Frostbite. There
are important matters to be addressed! Why else would I come to you?”

She finally got to her point after asking if I’ve noticed any Ice Imps or Snow
Serpents disappearing or dying. I answered, “Yes, but it seems it is of no
consequence to me.” She stated that she had seen some of the creatures of her
land disappearing and falling dead. She was afraid of what it might mean for her
and cared just enough to inform me so we might go to see Queen Mab to see if she
knows anything about this.

The cretin cheated on her implications and has left without me. Not that I care
to go anywhere or see anyone, but I feel I should know what is happening.
Therefore, I am leaving and am unsure of when I shall return.

DO NOT DO ANYTHING TO MY HOME!!!

Frigidly yours,
Eirian

______________________________________________________________________________

After a day spent with music and dance, and light conversations, Nimue returned
to her secluded home. She was, as always, happy with the time spent playing,
but more than a little grateful to otherwise escape the noise and confusion that
marked the Seelie court.

“I’m really getting too old for this,” she thought to herself. “If I can no
longer enjoy being surrounded by my own kind engaged in everyday activities, why
do I bother to return?” It was a rhetorical question; Nimue knew that, as long
as Titania ruled, Nim would never abandon her.

Part of the problem, of course, was the presence of Unseelie within the confines
of the Seelie Court ring; they shadowed everything with their dark presence.
Nimue was not afraid of shadow, nor was she, like many of the young Seelie,
seeing danger and terror in the dark; rather, Nim’s unease was based on a
knowledge of the background of the Unseelie King, Sepsis, and the anger that
fueled his motives and actions. Knowing that her own actions had helped to
contribute to his fury did not help matters.

Nimue’s thoughts turned to a long-ago time, back when she was just coming into
her own power as the Seelie Maestro. While not the oldest of those who
practiced the magic of music, she had become the leading instructor of the
younglings, having a great patience for their fits and starts and being mostly
unmoved by their pranks (or at least able to dispel the nonsense with a Look).

Nim enjoyed the company of the youngsters, often regaling them with tales of her
travels to the human realms and delighted in showing them the latest tunes and
songs, watching as some of them worked to create dance steps to accompany the
music. Some of the older fae felt that spending time among humans was unseemly
(and potentially a danger), but Nim saw it as a way to recharge and bring
variety to the lessons that she taught. She also secretly held a great fondness
for humans as chosen companions – and partners.

One moment in time stood out – a chance encounter, when Nimue first met Eoghan
Dubhdara Ó Máille (Owain) while traveling with human players in Connacht. Their
troupe had come to Umhall, the Barony of Murrisk, and sought shelter and board
in return for providing music and merriment for a time. The Dubhdara (Black Oak,
Ó Mhaille’s nickname) was an expansive host, offering food and drink aplenty and
private retiring areas for his performing guests, and he encouraged them to play
the tunes that were the mainstay of Irish dance, often being among the first to
leap to the dance floor during a rousing tune.

He quickly showed that he was intrigued by Rebecca the Fiddler (Nimue’s human
persona), perhaps because of her long silver and pale gold hair (not at all
common in Ireland, and the only outward sign of her fae form). Nimue was
certainly not averse to spending time with such a fine figure of a man, enjoying
herself immensely, and so, when it was time for the players’ troupe to move on,
she decided to stay behind and accept a position as tutor to Owain’s only
daughter, Grania (also called Granuaile).

Nimue spent several years (in human time) in the household, teaching Grania her
letters and numbers, giving her music instruction, and becoming a friend and
confidante to her. Grania was frustrated by her place and status as a female in
16th Century Ireland; she wanted to be part of her father’s seafaring business,
and often complained bitterly to “Becca” that she could do as well as her
brother in learning the family trade.

While Nimue never directly encouraged Grania to rebel, she did offer as lessons
tales from England and Ireland’s past about women who were in charge of their
own lives and fortunes (usually because their men were off fighting in some war)
and who persevered in spite of their status as second-class citizens, hoping to
encourage Grania to take charge of her own destiny. At one point, Nim suggested
to Grania that she begin to keep a private journal, detailing not only her daily
life but her thoughts about what she (Grania) might be able to accomplish if she
had charge of the lands and ships of her family.

Along with her duties as tutor (and, later, confidante), Nimue continued to
spend time with Owain. While human and fae relationships were not unusual, it
was less common for anything to come of such a partnering; certainly Nimue was
not expecting such, having reached an age where (among the fae, at least) it was
unlikely that she would find it necessary to deal with infants. She had often
wondered what it would be like to have a youngling of her own, but had grown
used to the idea that it was not to be; anyway, her interest in children tended
to be directed toward those who were of an age to be taught formal lessons
rather than those who were newly formed.

Nimue shuddered and then relaxed – what was done was done. All of this had
already happened, and the Wheel had turned many times since then. Once she
realized that her partnering with Owain had created something other than just
mutual pleasure, she knew that she could no longer stay with him, nor with
Grania.

Fate intervened – a summons came from the Seelie Court, telling her that she
must return very soon to the fae to prepare for a great undertaking; the
establishment of a training `school’ for the royal Seelie children. Nimue could
not bear to leave Grania with lies, but could only say that it was necessary for
her to return to her homeland for a long-anticipated reunion. Telling Owain
that she had been contacted by her former troupe, who begged her to return to
them, she left quietly one night, waiting only until she was out of sight from
the castle before she magicked herself to Lands End and the bridge leading to
her home.

Nimue never saw the pale shadow that followed her from the castle and then
stood, silent and sad, as she disappeared in a shower of starlight…

______________________________________________________________________________

April 1445

I’m sure that Spring has sprung.

I met my good friend the princess in the gardens this morning. I love playing
with her. We sat listening to the bards while eating fruit. She is very good at
koob but I suspect she is using some sort of magic to beat me.

I love this place but there are times I feel like I don’t belong here, but
never when I’m with Titanna. Her cousin Mab, and brother Sepsis often send
leering glares in my direction and many of the Fae are starting to look at me as
if I’m different or something is wrong with me. I have noticed that the magic
they use comes natural to them but I really have to concentrate to use mine. I’m
often aware of their glamor spells and have a natural immunity to it but my own
skills tend to weigh more toward physical prowess than actual magic. I’m
beginning to wonder what is different about me? Why am I not growing wings? It
is obvious that I’m being allowed to spend time with the Princess but as each
day passes I’m being kept separate from the others.

Lady Nim seems to be proud of how quickly I have picked up the language of
music, but I sense she is troubled about something. Perhaps she is vexed about
my lack of skills in the other Fae ways? Her instruction is very helpful but
when I inquire about anything other than the music she tends to shy away from
explaining or helping me in that area. I asked her what my last name and title
was today, because all the other Fae fit into certain groups and seasons. All
she said was that I will soon begin understanding. Why do all the other Fae that
are my age know but I do not?

I fear the others including The King and Queen of the Fae are talking about me.
I love being with the Princess and the gardens are a very serene place but I
fear I don’t belong here for some reason.

I lost my temper yesterday with one of the noble Fae boys and it seems he is
still under the care of the healers. Nim has told me that I cannot be physical
with them because their wings are fragile.

I am different than them but the same in some ways. I’m scared that they will
take me away from here soon. I’m not sure how I know that but I feel it in my
gut. If they do I will miss the Princess so very much. So much that I don’t want
to think about it.

The keeper of the dust came to my chamber this evening and sprinkled me with a
red dust and told me that it would ground me and give me strength. Why do I need
to be grounded!? I would rather be able to fly!

~Gabriel

______________________________________________________________________________

The keeper of the dust stole quietly out of Gabriel’s room. He had not wanted
to be sprinkled with the red dust that she had explained would ground him. He
knew he was different, but he did not understand, nor could she explain to him
yet, how he was (and must be) connected to the human world in the same way that
the fae he played with were connected to the other world. He would be in many
ways a bridge between the two. His future would take a different path.
Grounding in the human element was a necessity for him. She blew an unseen kiss
to him as she walked away. She would add the other dust later, when he could
better understand it.

______________________________________________________________________________

After following the revealed clues of the map given to me by Captain Black, the crew and I arrived at our destination known as Spinsters point on the northern shore on the Isle of Barataria. For once I was on time and did not get lost; my guess is that luck was with me as well as my new compass that one of the crew lifted from a poor sap while we were ashore in Cuba.
We moored the ship just before sunset, all stations we secured. The crew had now all gathered together on the upper deck. As instructed by notes upon the map, at exactly ten bells the ships musicians began to play. While the men played one of there favorite tunes, several faint lights appeared and swirled neath their feet. The more the lads laughed and sang the brighter the lights became. The lights would move to the music and spinning on the deck in intricate patterns.
Before our eyes the lights began to take form. They looked to be wee lasses with wings. Never had they seen nor could have imagined such a sight. On into the night the music continued with the wee gals dancing.
The night ended as if awaking from a dream. The sun was in the early morning sky, as I squinted to survey the deck and sleeping crew, who like me were beginning to wake. “Fae”, one of the crew called out.” It seems the last night we were visited by faries , like the ones I had seen on the ship several months ago.
Unlike there first visit where they were trying to take something, this time they left a gift. In the center of the deck were placed silver trays with every delicacy imaginable, from tropical fruits, to exotic dishes. After the crew has eaten I will lay out the rule that we must abide.

~Peechy Keene

_______________________________________________________________________________

After our morning meal left for us by the Fae I briefed the crew on the rules that we must follow. On the large bolder at the point there is a hole at its top where the map must be rolled and placed, so as it may be reclaimed by its owner. From the hole at the rock the crew may have access to the island for 500 paces inland from this point. The rest of the morning the crew placed strips of cloth at 499 paces at intervals along the perimeter to act as a warning that we were about to stray too far. One of the crew asked what would happen if we crossed over the line. I explained that we would remain hear until the first week of August and till then we would refit the ship. Taking one of our buckets I tossed it into the area just beyond the perimeter marker. The hit the ground and on its first bounce into the air, vanished. The lads’ eyes became the size of saucers. silently turned away and continued with their duties.
I have surveyed the area that we have been granted access to for the next few months. It seems there is everything we need. There be food and game, fresh water. I can’t explain it but we needed a part for one of the ships boilers and the second mate Mr. Ramsey found one in the sand of the beach. It as if the island is giving us everything we need to refit the old girl. It would not surprise me one bit that coal will wash up in the morning tide.

~Peechy Keene

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July 29th 1719
Isle of Lost Time

I’ve paid the crew and given them freedom to enter Barataria proper. The time has come to gather those I’ve summoned. The rudders I gave each of them have placed them at different areas of the Island so as not to happen upon one another by chance. It would be a shame to have them run across each other in open waters or on land. Many of them have never met and I want to keep it that way until they are in council.

It would not be good to be havin a skirmish among them before our gatherin. I seriously doubt a chance meetin betwix Grace and Drake would go well or betwix Teach and England for example. Let alone the confusion that would ensue if’in Rackham met Keene and saw the flyin steam ship and it’s strange technologies.

It be time to unfold this twisted plot that has befallen us all in hopes that the Brotherhood will not only survive but prosper like never before.

~Capt’n. Black

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July 31st
Isle of Lost Time

I came upon a bucket lying in the sand. The fog beyond it t’was what the Fae be callin the veil. I’d be findin Peechy Keene and his crew beyond it and most likely they would have things in order to set sail. I picked up the bucket and placed some doubloons and a map inside. Appropriately it had an X showing them where the next leg of their journey would be leadin them. Capt’n. Peechy seemed competent enough and he had proven to be bein either brave or plain lost as to the possible consequences of me orders. Perhaps he trusted me or most likely he was bored or just like all pirates had a adventurous wanderlust that drove em to see what was beyond the next horizon.

Slowly I broke through the veil feeling the magic of me ancient kindred wrap around me body making every one of me hairs stand on end. When I had passed through the veil, darkness enveloped the beach and night sky. It’s never easy to prepare me mind for the breaking through of the veil no matter how many times I be doin it. It’s like biting into that thar lemon, ye know it will shock yar system no matter how many times ye do it it’s the same every time.

I could smell the coal and steam and heard the gears turning in the cove as Peechy’s crew test fired the ol’ girl making sure she was ready fer flight. She was a bueaty fer sure but not to me likin. I prefer keepin me ship afloat and on solid water.

I made me way toward the first watchman and easily past em with a glamour. One of the few spells I used when I could remember. I like it when I be whole wif me memories intact. To bad that I have yet to be findin a way to make it constant. I tend ta be thinkin it has somethin ta do wif me dreams and most likely there be a weaver named Mab playin wif the webs of me fate. I’ve yet to be proven it as I don’t stay in the now long enough ta be doin somethin bout it.

I found the lad sittin on a rock talkin wif one of his mates a Chinamen that was a smokin a pipe. I sat at a safe distance to be hearin thar conversation but far enough to be stayin unnoticed. He spoke of cooking something called Bar Be Que which sounded like it was prepared somewhat like what the buccaneers did with strips of boar.

After the Chinaman who’s name was Bob left I slowly approached the Captain and dropped the bucket at his feet. He looked up surprised to be seein me and greeted me wif vigor. He spoke as if it had been a long time since we had seen one another when by my memory it had been but a few weeks. Strange the days seem ta be melting together fer me. He had plenty of questions, some of which I could be given the answer to and others that would have to wait.

We spoke fer a good while until Bob returned wif the Bar Be Que. I pulled the cowl on me cloak down and Peechy took the plates from Bob and handed me one as he told em to go eat at the ship and to be leavin his plate here fer me. Bob seemed a bit curious about it all but followed the Captains orders. I’m sure that the lad knew who I was but he said nothin. If’in I knew nothin else bout this man Peechy to see how his crew respected him was enough.

We ate and talked fer a bit longer before I crept away back into the darkness. I had left with him the bucket and his next adventure along wif a few coins. He had left wif me the after taste of Bar B Que one of me new favorite foods!

~Capt’n. Black

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(A Letter to His Majesty…From Captain David Jones)

Your Most Royal Majesty,
As per Your command, I have arrived at this island of lost souls
they call Barataria. I must admit total bewilderment. Nothing seen
in Britain can compare with what I must report to you this day. You
may deem me mad with fever but I beg you to trust what has befallen me
here has little to do with madness.

As you well know, we sailed from Liverpool, a fortnight ago with
full crew and armory on the HMS Abundance. Our voyage was without
squall or occurrence with the exception of a small altercation with a
small frigate flying unknown colors. She was heavily out gunned, out
manned and out sailed. We presented her crew no quarter and no mercy
as you requested. She was speedily sent to the bottom so as to not
take chance to divulge either mission nor destination.

The map provided by your Majesty’s agent, was vague in destination
using unknown landmarks, but astonishingly accurate.

Now, I must relate to you what has transpired. Night last, I
retired for the evening, with reckoning being 2 days out from
Barataria. When I woke, I no longer found myself in my quarters, but
on the island itself. No sign of ship nor crew, nor any memory of how
this came to pass. I am not sure what black art has caused this and I
fear for the lives of my men.

In my trek across the island, i spied many a pirate crew and many
ships in the harbor. In happening upon a small village, I hear the
name of what surely must be their leader. Captain Black. One such
villager even referred to him as “King Gabriel”. Other names I hear
surely must be distant kinship to names of the past as these pirates
have long since been banished to the underworld by rope, musket or
cannon.

Again, I beg your Majesty to hear me out and not think me insane, for
I must tell you another strange thing upon this island. Of strange
creature and strange magic…..

To be continued…………

______________________________________________________________________________

From The Diary of King Gabriel Black

Aug. 1st 1719

Holding Greyrazor I sat in the border ethereal able to  traverse both that plane and the Earth at the same time. Pulling from the magicks of Greyrazor most assuredly had it’s benefits.

I had learned that in this state I could travel great distances quickly as well as pass through non living matter as a spectre or ghost. This would be very useful especially when spying on our enemy the United Fleet.

She was a beautiful ship….

The English Kings colors and that of United Fleet flew proudly from Her main and the night watch searched diligently with vigilance for any vessels on the horizon. The HMS Abundance and Her crew had no knowledge of my presence as I approached Her. I passed gently and quietly through Her hull like a wrath. I moved through the decks walls and floors until I came to the Captains quarters. All was silent and the lamp light flickered casting shadows that would help in hiding my presence even that much more.

I slowly surveyed the cabin and saw a form on the rack sound asleep but with a rapier close by. Everything seemed to be in order throughout the cabin. It was obvious that the commander of this vessel was meticulous and held cleanliness in high regard. He most definitely was a man of the law. Most likely the one sent as the commanding representative of the English crown.

I did not recognized the coat of arms upon the wall next to the Kings but the fact that there was one at all meant he was important none the less. Most likely a Lord in the Kings court with too much to prove to both the crown and nobles. A dangerous combination for sure. A man with everything to lose and only fame to gain for capturing me and or dismantling the pirate council.

I floated slowly toward the heavy desk in the corner as the window brought in a slight breeze ruffling pages of the rutters upon it.

Upon inspection I noticed his log book as well. The map upon the desk titled “island of lost souls” was a bit crude and had upon it many mistakes with few landmarks. It was obvious that the course laid in would take this ship and crew to the depths as it would send them over the dark maidens den. Very close to the Isle of lost time but not close enough. It was a perfect example of our baited propaganda that we had circulated for the last couple of months and many a vessel had made the mistake of following it only to become dinner to the dark maiden.

My deals with her had proven profitable for us both but her strength grew with each soul that she claimed and one day I would have to deal with this beast I fed.

As I thumbed through the log a theme began to unfold. This man actually held me in high regard showing respect to my accomplishments with his quill. However the more I read the more I realized that it was likened to a hunter seeking to hang his taxidermy upon the mantle.
None the less he intrigued me. If it was not for his vows to the law and King and country he would make an excellent addition to the council.

As I began to thumb through the parchment to ascertain his identity the cabin began to glow. It was a deep purple hue that came from the window and slowly moved toward the form of the captain. I felt the magick and it was familiar to me but not in a kind way. The magick settled over the captains bunk and he began to wake and produce his rapier. He rose from the bed as the purple hue enveloped him slashing at it with no effect. Then he fell to the floor limp but still holding his rapier tightly. It was time to leave before I gathered it’s attention.

I flew across the water heading back to La Isla del Tiempo Perdido as if returning to my body from a dream and all I could think about was how disappointed I was at losing the chance to cross wits and will with the good captain. He would have been a challenging opponent and one that might have kept things interesting.

~Gabriel

_______________________________________________________________________________________

At Sea, 29 June in the Year of our Lord 1560.

Ship’s crew and company aboard, fitted and stored proper, Semper Fi proceeding
south by southwest into the shipping lanes for porper plunder, perhaps a wee
action against coastal barques will sharpen the crew for heavier action ahead.

Reviewing the charts, there seems to be a “smudge”. These charts be mine alone,
scribed from prize ships by me own hand, ne’er has there been a smudge, for that
be the death of all who sail.

Now taking form, be it witchcraft or no, we must keep the charts accurate, and
the wind has shifting making course change for the new island most opportune.
Master Butkis, strike the studding sheets, make home the running rig.
Quartermaster, make your course 245 degrees. Step lively lads…tis God’s breath
we be catchin…or the Devil’s.

________________________________________________________________________________________

That bedamned demon still haunts me slumber. Having stole away my youth by
abscounding with every wee tooth, and no loot to show for me troubles. The fairy
of tooth shall pay mightally for this piracy, if I have to wade through the
whole of the world to reach em.

Yet another vision in me slumbers that of a name…Barataria, that be the name
of the smudge now taking shape on me charts. The voice of the dream be not
demonic nor angelic, more of a brothers call against a chorus of activity. Will
advise the Captain of Cannon, Argon, and Captain of Action Philip of the nature
of this venture, we shall be ready for this encounter no matter the nature.

R. McNally

_________________________________________________________________________________________

From The Diary of King Gabriel Black

Oct. 2009

I have become accustomed to the magicks of time travel though I still find it hard to know the exact date or place that I am thrown until I am get the knowledge from a local.

It would seem that I’ve been transported so far into the future that almost everything I encounter is unfamiliar to me.

I sat in a local Pub this evening and listened to the conversations around me. It would seem that a Faire is coming to town, a Faire named Barataria. They spoke of live music which I was a bit confused about. What other kind of music is there? Dead? It would seem that spirits from beyond sing in this time. I heard strange music coming from the walls of the establishment and when I inquired they looked at me as if I had gone mad. One of the bar keeps called the spirits “speakers”. I wondered if this reference had any correlation to the shamans of the indigenous tribes. Perhaps they received instructions from the “speakers” as to what to do in life. As I listened I noticed young girls dancing to the voices as if possessed by the “speakers”. Many of them, as well as others in the pub sang along with the “speakers” as well.

As I left I wondered what great spiritual awakening I could gather from “Baby got back”?

~Gabriel

________________________________________________________________________________________

From the Personal Diary of Gabriel

Oct 1st 1445

I have spent the last few months being instructed in the ways of the Fae. As usual I have spent a lot of time with the Princess however things seem to be getting strange. She is irritated more than usual and she seems to be pulling away from me. Our friendship has been taxed as of late by countless hours of instruction. My studies with Lady Nim have increased and I have been summoned by the King and Queen many times to perform. It seems almost as if the Princess and I are being kept apart on purpose.

Oct. 2nd 1445

This will be my last journal entry. I have been told by Lady Nim that the Queen and King have requested I leave the Ring! I am no longer welcome here. I knew that I was different! I knew that this would some day happen! I hate them all!! I will carve a path through history so that they remember driving me away! One day I will return to pay them back for what they have done to me. Sepsis was right……They want to keep me down, and away from my friend the Princess!! When I return they will BEHOLD!! SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES!!

_______________________________________________________________________________________

The Crew and I arrived in New Orleans in 1911. Mr. Dobbs and I made are way to
the location provided to us by Captain Black. It was a bank and the key was to
that of a strong box that was purchased by me, many years before. I dismissed
the attendant and the crewman Mr. Dobbs and proceeded to open the box. In it was
a note and a ring. I removed the note and began to read. It read move you fool;
you are going to be hit from behind. I jumped aside but I was still struck to
the ground. I managed to draw my pistol and take aim at the cloaked figure. “Do
not move or I will shoot” The figure turned to me with the ring which it had
just removed from the box to face me. Who are you? I asked. Remove you cowl so I
may see you. The figure pulled back the cloaks hood, and what I saw took me
aback. It was me Peachy Keene only a lot older and with a horribly scared face.
You are me, I exclaimed. Aye and you are me. It was I that left the note in the
box for me But the ring will never reach Captain Black. You see forces of the
dark and evil want it too. A dark mist follows the ring and you back to the
ship. There the mist attacks you and the crew. You, and a few of the crew
survive. And this is how it leaves you. Trust me, if you can’t trust me who can
you trust. The Captain does not want that ring to be in the possession of evil
during the gathering at Barataria.
I know I was there. 30 years ago I or you were there. I spent my time there
tending my wounds and morning the loss of my crew and ship. I vowed that I would
set things right, and for years sought to master the time storms.
Now I have that chance. Holding the ring out into a ray of light the ring began
to glow with a slight golden hue. Watch this, I told myself. Placing the ring on
the bank box I drew the same pistol that I was holding on myself, but a lot more
worn and a little tarnished. Taking the pistol I struck the ring with the pistol
butt. The ring shattered like the flash in a pan. The small sparks that emanated
from the ring swirled about the room and vanished.
The ring was a prison? Aye it was, but no longer. And those fae will now be part
of the grand event of Barataria.
Now set sail lad, time is at waste. The evil will not be a waitin for ya. For
the ring is gone.
Oh, and one more thing. Keep an I on the one they call Cherry. In answer to your
question she is very proud of the ornament in her hair, but does not know it is
a watch. Just compliment her on it.
But what about you, I asked myself. We shall never see each other again, for
you are on a different path. And as for me I am off to see history.
I watched myself leave the bank and disappear New Orleans Street.
I returned to the ship with no signs that evil had followed me. Taking a good
solid look at the crew and ship I gave the order. Make way for Barataria.

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From the early diaries of Granuille ni Maille

My only remaining friend,
I come to thee perplexed for it seems now that I have no other confidante than thee. I have seen such odd happenings lately and such sad occurrences about the keep that I scarce know what to make of them, whether I dream or have taken leave of my senses.

More than a quarter ago, my beloved tutor, Becca, who had not only been my teacher but my soul friend, my only boon companion who has listened to my thoughts and dreams and been canny and trustworthy with the rebellious thoughts, has gone…vanished. And not by any earthly happenstance, either, I vow.

She has for the last several months been acting most strange. I’d have to be a ninny not to know that she’d been keeping close and intimate company with Da. Nor do I blame either of them; since Ma died, leaving me verily an heiress, he has been lonely and she is the only real intelligent person to brighten his life. I’ll admit I have been more than a bit of a handful but of course, Becca takes my cause and says, “Faith, all the really canny ones are hellions growing up.” I strongly suspect she should know! But things became somewhat stormy between them with talk of her leaving; neither of us wanted her to and I thought we’d convinced her.

So when last night, I glimpsed her taking the stairs to the top of the keep, I had to follow. She seemed to have such a surreptitious air about her that my curiosity was peaked and I followed. Imagine my surprise to turn the corner and see her vanish into thin air; nay, not quite thin for I distinctly heard the sound of running water. Here at the top of yon stony keep where any water brought is by dint of much hard labor and carrying of buckets.

By the way she rested her hand on her belly and by the tears on her cheeks, I strongly suspect I know why she went in secret. But HOW, by what method and wherefore with no supplies, none of her books, no garments? Why no good-byes?

I searched and searched every nook of the keep but to no avail. Da has been foul tempered since and I pray that he will go to sea to purge his ill-temper there.

So it seems that I am once again alone with my thoughts, my dreams, my goals and my plans. Da wants me to remain at home and toil with the woman; Gods teeth, I will NOT! He needs a son to learn the sailing and the trade and am I not already the best sailor in his crew as sworn to by all the men? Though I be but ten years and four, I will prove to him I am worthy as any boy child. I shall cut off my hair and go voyaging with him; see if I do not!

But I shall never have another friend such as Becca. I shall pray to Brigid, NAY, to Lugh! to keep her safe and bring her back to me soon.

Grania,
in the year of our Lady 15 and 44.

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Once Nimue returned to the Seelie Court, she devoted her energy and time to work on creating a training `academy’ for Titania and the Seelie children. It was less a `school’ than a space and time for each of them to understand how to function comfortably in the company of others and begin the process of learning courtly protocol and manners, as well as the more important lessons of cooperation in all goodly actions.

Fae are, by nature, solitary and mostly self-focused; they live long enough that friendships and relationships become difficult, if not impossible, to maintain. If left to their own devices, they are more than happy to find ways to amuse themselves, but they also tend to view everything around them (including fellow fae) as objects for play rather than as living beings.

Titania was not much different from other fae children – she was mostly interested in her own amusements – but she had the `advantage’ of knowing from birth that she would eventually have to become a leader of her own kind. Being innately kind, she wanted to find ways to fulfill that leadership role without hurting others, but that was difficult.

Much of Nim’s early work with Titania was to serve as a `reminder’ – someone who could point out a need for a task to be done or a change in attitude to be effected, but whose primary goal was to help her avoid creating trouble and strife by incautious speech or actions. Titania learned early on to take her questions to Nimue, where they could be discussed and resolved with quiet words and careful thought.

——
Nimue understood this a little too well. The Keeper of the Dust is the only Seelie being that is close in age to Nimue. She and Nim were raised together, having been created only 2 days apart (Nim is older), and have remained good friends. She is also the *only* being who has ever been allowed to utter Nim’s despised baby name since they both outgrew their nursery ring days. While Nim learned of weaving water and air into music magick, the Keeper focused on earth and nature magic, eventually becoming a fae `midwife’, one who brings new life into the world. The Keeper uses her knowledge of herbs and time magic to transform the birthing process into a shining memory for the mother – something that is quite necessary to help them through the long, painful process of bringing a new life into being. Only the Keeper knows how much hardship and trouble any new creation might actually entail.

——
Nimue shook herself, rousing from her reverie. The story continues, but she must focus on the present, or at least the actions that needed to take place in the here-and-now. She thought for a moment, then went to the small chest that sat near the back wall of the room.

Opening it with a touch, Nim reached in and pulled out another small book, similar to the one now sitting on the table by the fire. This one was slightly larger and bore unmistakable signs of having been used as a weapon of some sort, or perhaps a shield – the cover was stained with darkish red and black blotches, and the corners were bent and torn.

She shook her head over it. “The boy does not know how close he came to losing his own life that day. And it was over nothing more than a joking remark.” She scanned the pages, looking for a specific entry. “Ah, here we go…”

Reading to herself, she nodded as the memory refreshed itself,

“I fear the others including The King and Queen of the Fae are talking about me. I love being with the Princess and the gardens are a very serene place but I fear I don’t belong here for some reason.
I lost my temper yesterday with one of the noble Fae boys and it seems he is still under the care of the healers. Nim has told me that I cannot be physical with them because their wings are fragile.”

“Gavri’el, m’lad, you were correct – your time here was brief and fraught with dangers, to yourself as well as the others. The Keeper of the Dust was hard-pressed to find ways to protect you; you were indeed a stranger in a Strange Land. ”

Nimue smiled then, “But look how you’ve grown…”

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