Post by Lucien Lachance on Jun 8, 2009 16:03:31 GMT -5
Cap'n Dugal's Journal, Part 1
by Captain Torradan ap Dugal
The last words of a great pirate, part 1
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3E 286… or thereabouts
I’m findin' it unlikely that anyone will be findin' this journal, but if they do, know that here be written the last words of the great Captain Torradan ap Dugal, Scourge of the Abecean Sea, Terror of the Gold Coast, Cutthroat of Hunding Bay, and Lord Captain of the Red Sabre - the finest band o' buccaneers and pirates e'er to sail Tamriel.
I ain't a man with much use for words -- I ain't never been to no academys, and I ain’t never wrote no books. Words ain't never earned me no gold, so theys worthless to me - that's why ye have quartermasters and first mates. But I'm gonna be settin' my last thoughts down here on paper, cause I ain't got much time left here and it’s ev'ry old man’s right to have his words heard.
Now, me business was fightin', sailin', and lootin'. I became a leader of sailin' men, the most feared in hist'ry, or so they tells me. Now, b'fore ye be gettin ahead o' yerself, let me be warnin ye that me tale does not end well as I’m sure ya can see from wherever ye found me rotten bones in this gods cursed cavern.
I was born in a little town on the north coast o' Skyrim called Dunbarrow. Me mother was a wench and me father was a right bastard. The only thing that either of 'em e'er did fer me was doin' me the favor of sellin' me off to a sea cap'n when I were nine. That cap'n, he taught me e'ry thing I'd e'er need to know about sailin', and a few things about the rest too.
Ye see, he were a smuggler, an' he taught me all about smugglin' and avoidin' the Imperial Navy as he run the skooma route from Daggerfall to Vivec. Shame he were caught and hung. He were as close to a daddy as this ol' pirate e'er knew, closer n' that bastard what sold me off e'er were, that’s fer sure.
by Captain Torradan ap Dugal
The last words of a great pirate, part 1
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3E 286… or thereabouts
I’m findin' it unlikely that anyone will be findin' this journal, but if they do, know that here be written the last words of the great Captain Torradan ap Dugal, Scourge of the Abecean Sea, Terror of the Gold Coast, Cutthroat of Hunding Bay, and Lord Captain of the Red Sabre - the finest band o' buccaneers and pirates e'er to sail Tamriel.
I ain't a man with much use for words -- I ain't never been to no academys, and I ain’t never wrote no books. Words ain't never earned me no gold, so theys worthless to me - that's why ye have quartermasters and first mates. But I'm gonna be settin' my last thoughts down here on paper, cause I ain't got much time left here and it’s ev'ry old man’s right to have his words heard.
Now, me business was fightin', sailin', and lootin'. I became a leader of sailin' men, the most feared in hist'ry, or so they tells me. Now, b'fore ye be gettin ahead o' yerself, let me be warnin ye that me tale does not end well as I’m sure ya can see from wherever ye found me rotten bones in this gods cursed cavern.
I was born in a little town on the north coast o' Skyrim called Dunbarrow. Me mother was a wench and me father was a right bastard. The only thing that either of 'em e'er did fer me was doin' me the favor of sellin' me off to a sea cap'n when I were nine. That cap'n, he taught me e'ry thing I'd e'er need to know about sailin', and a few things about the rest too.
Ye see, he were a smuggler, an' he taught me all about smugglin' and avoidin' the Imperial Navy as he run the skooma route from Daggerfall to Vivec. Shame he were caught and hung. He were as close to a daddy as this ol' pirate e'er knew, closer n' that bastard what sold me off e'er were, that’s fer sure.