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Where there is a sea there are pirates
Life's pretty good, and why wouldn't it be? I'm a pirate, after all
Lost in thoughts until... 
6th-Sep-2006 04:13 pm
It has been about two hours since his “delightful” conversation with his best friend, and fleet admiral Draven Rimington. These two hours were spent doing nothing in particular besides chit chatting with soldiers within the gray building that housed much of the navy’s superiors in Port Royal. It was built for the politics and gatherings of officials that had busied them selves into any form of military action within this “pirate’s” port.

Taiven found it silly to attempt a massive reconstruction of the port. It was and still is considered a haven for buccaneers. Absolute poppycock in his mind to start a “war” upon their own turf, and expect a pleasant atmosphere to continue. There were natives to worry about, or was he the only one that had thought of them?

It is different to chase pirates out on the sea, but to start a battle…a conflict…around small children, that wasn’t civilized. Taiven knew that most men in the military didn’t care for the natives – the races were different and thus made these natives “worthless” – but he also figured that these men were blinded by their hatred. Children are children anywhere – any race, any gender, any religion, ect.

He hated the thought of fighting and killing men for sport – public hanging for example – in front of these children. It would have to be hard upon them, not to mention dramatizing.

All of his thinking was interrupted abruptly by the rumbling of his stomach, and these thoughts would have to be second rate now.

The commanding Lieutenant knew it was raining quite steadily outside but that didn’t bother him at the least – he wasn’t going to take an umbrella, or a raincoat.

Saying his goodbyes to his soldiers Taiven sung the door to the building open and started making his way towards a little restaurant.
Comments 
7th-Sep-2006 04:58 am (UTC) - Re: The hell?
He watches Draven briefly and heads off towards the Imperial pear – the ship he serves under and “lives” upon – He plays with the locket while making his way back “home,” with a somber look upon his face.
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