The Ravings of a Sad Old Git

or

The Memories of an Admiral

I pulled the huge iron bolt back on the small studded door and emerged blinking into sunshine. My congress with the goddess had concluded and I was slightly worse for wear.

For many years now I have locked myself away in a tiny room inside Hectors house to pursue my quest for inner peace. existing only on a diet of peyote buttons and little pointy mushrooms, drinking only holy water laced with lsd and the bodily fluids of the goddess I was able to be in the now, the then and the what if all at the same time. As I walked to the sea and lay down in the shallow water I thought about what had passed, the things that I had seen and the people who had been there. it was then that I decided to write all I could remember down to pass on to others so they could make the same mistakes as I had, or not.

existing only on a diet of peyote buttons and little pointy mushrooms

I also resolved to put in little pointers as to what would be in an attempt to get people to carry on reading as I knew that otherwise people would just look away sadly as they usually did. so as you read this you will see the winners of horse races, sea battles who will die and how that will die so make use of this information as best you can.

While I was locked in discords embrace she had informed me of all the changes that had occurred while I was away, I could not judge if they were for the good or bad until I had checked it all out for myself. The important thing was there seemed to be another admiral out there which left me with no power, this pleased me greatly as an admiral should never have power it makes them lazy and difficult to train.

My biggest regrets were the loss of my great friends Quinn and Bosh and picturing their faces in the firelight I lay back on the tide of memory allowing the ripples the Freebooters Alliance had caused in my life to wash over me. The images came in quick succession Bosh and our mudslide , Quinn wearing the kercheif I had given him, my beautiful wife the Lady Catherine and her friendly bodyguard, Ships Mum clean and serene, Gussett running off with my spoon, Pilfer eating shit, Lambkin's gleefully killing all around him, Ships Cat ready with a lick for all, Brennans great big arse, Sergeant-at-Arms Aaaarmatidge with his mouth full of wood, Crap Scout staring up from the pit with several broken limbs, Juggler juggling away, Zog playing Calvin-jugger like a demon, Vanson looking shocked as the crew descended on him early each morning after an evenings carousing, Duke Swan in the scale armour, Mr Apple and Mr Korps looking sharp, and Suli just being.

The images came faster now the fighting wedge through an entire army and out the other side, my wedding, Lambkins dying and then coming back, mud jugger with the Admirals Invitational Allstars versus the Ladies team, oh how they creamed us, the bong tent of Crap Scout, Littlefoot buying the longboat and being made a captain, facing the dragon with the best bunch of scurvy knaves ever to sail the seven sea, my bodyguard Charis smacking me about the head, the assassin drills, 'what time is it?' we all cried, Scribe doing his writing thing, Pixie drinking, all these crowded into my befuddled brain until i had to cry out no more.

mud jugger with the Admirals Invitational Allstars versus the Ladies team, oh how they creamed us

She came to me again then to sooth me and to twist my testicles as I lapsed into a vast ocean of black with only the intense pain in my groin for company. I choked back to life as the waves washed over me [and into me] the bitch had left me to die, so some things never changed I mumbled looking back towards Port Hector. Where were all the ships? There were supposed to be loads all full of rough tough legitimate trading types, or were we admitting to piracy now?

The past, future and now were difficult to separate. As a tear runs down my cheek I decide to insert some of the things from the future I had seen in my visions as probably people were bored stupid by now so here are some things that will come to pass . ••••• will die in a bizarre cattle/boating accident. ••••• will become magically pregnant and he will give birth to a baby girl. ••••• will win at cards and take most of the money off the crew of •••••. ••••• will taste the lash and ask for more but with a little salt and pepper this time . The following will have sex ••••• and ••••• but ••••• will leave ••••• to have affair with ••••• who is really in love with ••••• and throws herself at ••••• as she likes cox. Captain ••••• will fall and injure himself meaning he will be unable to achieve an erection. ••••• will win the FBA handicap romping in at 1000/1. ••••• will achieve honourable mention at the next fba 3 legged race.

Back to the meanderings of a deluded fool. I have noticed that a lot of the alliance do not seem to be Erisians any longer and this does sadden me, as Discordia has all you need in a religion but with a alcoholic chaser. It does not really matter as you will all see the error of your ways in the vast pray drive that happens when ••••• steals the ••••• from ••••• and everyone gets into really, really bad trouble. when the ••••• come in every increasing numbers and ••••• and ••••• are both horribly butchered, then ••••• decides that the only way out is to call on Eris, who you find is bowling at the time so you have to fight your way out.

Discordia has all you need in a religion but with a alcoholic chaser

Anyway I am getting away from the thrust of my missive as really its to say that the past belongs in the past, but the future is passed as well, but only if you are travelling backwards across the irish sea. So back to the story [if you remember i had been blubbing like a big girls blouse].

I now remembered why no one had come to visit me during my self imposed exile, its because I am a stupid stinking hippy but sometimes this works to my advantage. such as when the trees taught me to levitate or when someone wants to see the grim reeffer in action and brings their own. So now the thing I have to do is go out into the world and find a ship to serve on. As I pondered this, munching on a hot dog bun [this being friday] I wondered if I was still an Admiral or would someone want to fight me for the name Admiral? What happens if it was a draw could I be 'adm' and the other person 'iral'? Or would they insist on the whole title? Would someone force me to work for a living, which is a thought that scares me greatly.

If only bosh was here to advise me he would know what to do, after all I did not want to end up living in a tree like some of duke swan's men had to. I decided it was time to smoke dope to stay warm as my Admirals coat was now mostly holes with a few bits of cloth holding the holes in place. Trouble was my knees, elbows, shoulders, hips and knuckles hurt which meant that the rolling came out all bent and loose, it was then that I realised I was having trouble with my joints.

I lurched up the beach back into town looking for a face that I recognised but there were none. Some of the ladies looked mighty fine though so not all was lost with the seafaring life. Recalling something about Lundy and a Port Jerome I knew that I would have to find a ship and get to one of these places as soon as possible, but first I needed clothing, food and drink.

I am a stupid stinking hippy

I stopped outside a dirty rundown tavern called "The Confused and Twisted Turnip" which looked like just the sort of place. Two hours later I strode out dressed in rough but servicable clothing, my belly full of turnip and ale. The hosts Mr and Mrs Borowick had provided me with the clothing as while the small Mr and Mrs Borowick was too small the bigger Mr and Mrs Borowick was my exact size [which was strange I thought but not a strange as 2 blokes both called Mr and Mrs Borowick and running a tavern called The Confused and Twisted Turnip].

I had found out one horrible thing there was no holy water in the land with the death of Bosh it seemed that the flow had dried up, this was serious. It seemed to me that the time was nigh for return of @dmiral P.T. $hanx as no one was looking after the religious part of the ships crews, how could a crew function without a supply of holy water? It was unthinkable.

So when you next go adventuring and you see some peasant looking chap across the fire just think on, because that dirty swine could be me and you would not like me if I got peeved Treat the little person well or they may just turn and bite ya' on the arse. Ahoy, avast and other random nautical terms . Up your bum with a big black dog.