[center][img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][color=2956b2]March 24th, 1823[/color][/b][/h1]
[img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][i][color=2956b2]Scotland[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][/center]

	[color=2956b2][b][i]House Kirkpatrick:[/i][/b][/color] [color=f7976a]"Bright answer,"[/color] Lady Kirkpatrick said before glancing over at the Father, the new one not the young one. 

	"If you are comfortable I will escort her to Rome and oversee her training soon as papers are signed," he said as he reached into his coat and pulled out a contract. It was not long, just giving him temporary guardianship of the child while she was training and to note that the Lady Kirkpatrick would be handling all expenses the child would endure until her eighteenth birthday. The contract made sure to stipulate that Maeve could break the contract at anytime for any reason and that she would have to be updated monthly on her daughters progress and situation. The Lady Kirkpatrick's signature was already in place as was Father O'Reily's.

	Calum cleared his throat a bit and looked over towards Rory. "Everything alright?" Rory asked. 

	"For now, we shuldn't dawdle," Calum said as his fingers tightened on his rosary. 

	[color=f7976a]"The Fuddling Father is correct, we should make haste,"[/color] Lady Kirkpatrick said as Father O'Reily handed over the contract to Maeve and an inked quill. 

	"If you would miss, I would like to get your daughter out of Scotland before there is an attack." 

	[color=2956b2][b][i]Port Annan:[/i][/b][/color] Lord Rutherford stood and held his hand out to the man to shake it. "Very well then, collect your things we will be leaving shortly. We can discuss payment on the ride to the next city," he said before glancing towards Millicent and holding out a hand to her. Millicent took a breath and nodded. She was trembling slightly as she took her fiances hand and rose from her place. Gathering the folds of her dress and stepping out from behind the table. 

	"If you would excuse us I would like to get Millicent to the carriage. We will be departing from the Post Station in ten minutes," Rutherford added before laving payment to the inn keeper on the table and escorting Millicent out of the tavern. His arm around her waist. Millicent glanced back over her shoulder towards the man and forced a thin lipped smile before she exited. 

	Nigel came over to the table once they had left and picked up the money. He held out a few copper pieces to William. "For the song, the people were quite entertained," he said kindly. Something in his voice noted he wasn't going to take no for an answer about paying the man for the song. 

	Down the street to the right was the Post Station. Egerton was by a large four horse draw carriage that was waiting for them and Rutherford helped Millicent into the carriage before exchanging a few hushed words with Egerton as the two stepped away from the carriage a fair bit. The driver sat hunched over in his seat on top of the carriage, his hat pulled down over his features. 

[center][hr][h1][b][i][color=2956b2]England[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][/center]

	[color=2956b2][b][i]The Bristol Ship:[/i][/b][/color]  And the world it spins and turns and turns and burns and up and down and left and right, as it sways this way and that. Spinning ever spinning. A brow went up to the hair line and then another as he pressed his hand to his stomach. Something foul. Perhaps hunger, perhaps more. No, this was no hunger. Hunger cramped and burned, this wanted immediate evacuation. 

	Clamoring, clamoring, to the rail and let the alabaster chum fly like sea foam breaking through two tight cliffs. In rooms and below deck all aboard would feel this sensation, gnawing at their gut and wishing for tender vitals they had eaten as a child to live again and make themselves known. (Sorry boys, call for a roll for constitution because on the sea is far worse than on land.)

	[color=2956b2][b][i]The Sea:[/i][/b][/color] Marco chuckled a bit as he kept tying knots down the rope, each one vastly different. "Ya matty, ain't forgivin' ya," he said as he stood up and hung the rope up on a hook on one of the masts. "Ye not be no different than ye be a league ago so notin' be changed," he added before walking down the the ship and then heading up the stairs after the girl. "Hazel," he called out. She was next to Silvio who had taken the wheel since the captain was busy tending to other matters. "Hola taak in K'ajóolt le chico. Yaanten jump'éel k'aas presentimiento yóok'ol."

	Silvio quirked a brow and looked down the ship towards Fyror before looking over at Hazel to see what she would say. The girl huffed a bit and then thrust her daggers tip towards Marco's chin. He didn't move and she stopped right before the tip of the blade touched his skin. "Ma'alob ma'alob Ba'ale' wa consigue in le nervios ku le tripa ti'." Marco chuckled and ruffled her ginger hair before she started down the stairs. "Come on Cutlass, ye with me," she said towards Fyror and made her way to the rope netting that lead up each of the masts, grabbing the rope that Marco had been working on. Looking down at it she rolled her eyes, unknotting it quickly and reknotting it in a different pattern before hanging it back up. 

	Regalia quirked a brow. "Better answer than I was expecting," she admitted. Rising from her place the Captain took long easy strides towards a large wardrobe that was attached to the wall and opened it. There were various weapons in it, mostly different types of swords but there were some others that didn't look like they had been used in some time, mostly of Chinese origin. "Well a woman should never be without a means of defending herself. Now, do not get me wrong, a quick wit and brains are far more deadly than anything blade but in the end some caveman will always try to asset his will and thought on you whether you want it or not."

	Stepping to the side she motioned towards the cabinet. "Feel free to chose one or two," she offered as she rested her hand on the basket style hilt of her of her own sword she kept at her side at all times. "I would recommend ones of your own training because I haven't been able to stretch my legs in a time and I want to see if you can defend yourself," she added as her fingers started to wrap around the hilt of her sword and her other hand began to draw the dagger at the other side of her waist. 

	[color=2956b2][b][i][url=https://www.british-history.ac.uk/sites/default/files/publications/pubid-404/images/fig159.gif]Carlisle[/url]:[/i][/b][/color] One little, two little, three little Ryne's. Four little, five little, six little Ryne's. Seven little, eight little, nine little Ryne's all gotta die. 

[img]https://image.ibb.co/fkKpFf/carlisle.jpg[/img]