Yarr!

[magedragonfire]

Well, yon scurvy landlubbers, it be International Talk Like a Pirate Day - an', o' course, Oi do plan on celebratin' in the highest order. Mebbe with some grog. Or wenching. ...Nay, scrap that wenching part, Oi'll take a battle on the high seas, rippin' apart a few lilly-livered dogs that dare call 'emselves 'rue lads o' the sea'!

O' course, we're already celebratin' in fine fashion in th' CS schooner.

<Xore> YARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

<Dragonfire> Ahoy!

<Xore> felicitatious greetings thar be on this ere fine wanting of a marning

<Xore> it be blacker than the sole of ol' tom "free hands a brownin" boot, if ye be catching my starboard drift

<Dragonfire> Oi do agree, matey.

<Toothy> we agree wit yeah, yeah bilge rat!

<Xore> fer all tha' be hanged fer the luv of a goat, this channel be drifting deader than davey joneses locker, nary a scabrous hand on deck, save us thrain

<Toothy> Dragonfire: ((its called 'Black Bear Ale'))

<Dragonfire> Oy, there do be drifters 'ere an' thar, but they be lubbers for th' most part, gettin' sleep 'stead o' wenching an' drinking yon grog, as should be!

<Xore> what we all needs here are some fine comeley lasses of dubious and free virtue, to lull our blackened hearts to the rolling that nary even the sea can provide

<Dragonfire> ...Avast there, Oi dinnae be needin' any o' them meself, ye scurvy dog.

<Xore> lacking yon formentioned wenches, a good bit of grog could quell me queezy stomach

<Dragonfire> Toothy: (Is it the type that bears are apt to drink?)

<Xore> aye, that be true, by bill "i dinnae know where i put it" 's missing right hand!

<Xore> lass, ye bee needin t'get yerself some grog an' we can sing ourselves hoarse, to sleep, or into our wastrel glasses for another fine even'n of teh finest available at The Flounder's Fin

<Xore> what say ye?

<Dragonfire> Oi do suppose I could brush up on me wenching techniques - me bein' the wench, that be. But I dinnae think I'm much fer skirts the size o' a overfed rat, an' certainly not fer parkin' 'em in any bloke's lap what sets into this 'ere channel.

<Toothy> damn ye surrey types!

<Dragonfire> Yarr?

<Xore> bah! a pox on yer father's sister's fine victorian upbringing of yerself, call yerself a lass nary a wench, yer prolly less free than a Governor's Daughter, an the ship's goat to boot!

<Dragonfire> Why, do that be a challenge, ye bilge rat o' the highest order? At least I dinnae resort t' weighing anchor on the poor goat when ye can't find yerself a wench to satisfy!

<Toothy> aye, les' here no o that lass, there was a rather copius amount of fine ale involved in that matter.

<Toothy> s/here/hear

<Xore> it be hard to find a wench to satisfy, fer me satisfy, fer me reputation be so profound, all the comely lasses come flocking to the port when i set anchor, yet when the lights be out, and they reach inside me trousers, they can't seem to find the end of me frank'n beans, and run screaming lest they oversuccumb to the pleasures i could in their way yield

<Xore> tis a lonely path with a bloke so endowed as meself

<Dragonfire> ...What, that be a bit o' an exagerration, Oi do think - ye cain't be goin' round callin' that bootknife o' yers a cutlass, Oi do say.

<Xore> some say that there be no scarier beasty on the high seas than ol' ruffled Xore the grey, but that be before they see what's in is trousers

<Xore> cutlass? hah! when i tell ye to walk the plank, i be waving my cutlass, aye, but it be me poor "bootknife" ye be mistaking fer a plank

<Dragonfire> Hah! I think Oi'll just reserve judgement on that, m'lad, fer I do believe yer tellin' one o' them stories akin to ol' Tom "ship-attacked-by-whale-sized-chum" Gallows.

<Dragonfire> Now, if'n ye do be up to seducing the lassies, Oi suggest ye hand me a saber - Oi'll cut ye down to size, no fear!

* Dragonfire giggles at the thought of pointy sharp things, in an aside.

<Toothy> ROFLAMO

<Xore> ahoy! ye be related to "longshanks be shortened" bobbit, i see, having a taste for all things shortenable, well i so guarantee yet that i be shortenable by inches and feet, but it'll be a bloodless day on the warm crack of phil "red river" dover's hindside afore i let ye near mine

<Xore> enough talk of this however, what scabrous deeds be ye up to on the high seas?

<Dragonfire> Yarr, jus' insultin' the likes of yon, an' contemplatin' finding meself a warm bed for th' night.

<Toothy> a fine lass such as yerself has trouble findin' a warm bed fer th' night?

<Xore> arrr, warm beds be fine things fer landlubbers, it takes a true man o't' salt to get hisself a fine rest on a lumpy pallet in the forehold

<Xore> indeedy, i was shoreten'd o' makin the selfsame comment, but i figures as we've ad enuff of a frolick o' the sharpened tongues fer the evening, i'd let ye lick yer wounds, tho a fine sight that may be

<Xore> comeley lasses are allways the better fer allowin me to be watchen them lick thereselves

<Dragonfire> Aye, well, on a fair stormy night as it be, ev'rythin' be a bit on th' freezing side.

<Toothy> thas why yer has to find a bed with a fine lad already in it!

<Dragonfire> And I do think ye'll not be gettin' any o' that sort of amusement soon, sirrah - unless ye be the kind that goes searchin' on the high seas and pirating th' loot o' them fellas that make the deck-ramming walkie-pictures.

<Xore> of course, tis often the best way t'be tying 'im up an' tossing 'im out, nary a grope 'r a kiss fer him, ye steelshanked maiden

* Dragonfire bows.

<Dragonfire> Oi do have a reputation to keep up, 'tis true.

<Xore> yar, thar do be a sore lack of wenches in this ere channel

<Xore> fine comeley lasses we have in abundance fer the likes of conversation, but nary a grope t'be had

<Toothy> yer could always take one for th' team, and have one of them here fancy 'operations

<Xore> what be this world a-comin' to?

<Xore> yar toothy, be suggestin' that again and be renamin' yerself t' toothless, i wager

<Toothy> aye, you jus' try it, ye halfwitless bilge rat, a poor excuse fer a pirate ye be!

<Xore> ye cast insults like an ill bred sheep tryn te catch a fish off teh poop deck, ye ill fated curse of an ill bred cabin goat's latenight fling with ol' saucy elizabeth the redstains

...Yarr. XD We lads and lassies 'ave far too much time on our hooks.