Post by AA on Jan 17, 2008 10:15:44 GMT -5
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In a world of intrigue, nothing is as it seems...[/color][/font][/center]
The faces you pass are masked, hidden for many reasons – scandal, loss, heartbreak, and dark pasts. Upstanding citizens harbor secrets that one wouldn’t begin to dream of, and there’s something not quite right about the quiet isle just a hop and a skip away from San Profit. Ladies in frills are pirates in disguise, and beautifully spun lies are as common as the currency. One door never closes unless two more open – St. Palmer may seem calm, but it’s all part of a secret facade – just ask the pirates.
Do not let me mislead you, life in St. Palmer isn’t all angels and fruit cake. You’re in the Caribbean now mate, and things go on here I could not begin to describe. Some say that Fredrick Palmer, founder of our island, found dark, mysterious beings when he first came here--beings that fled into…into…well, we don’t know exactly. But strange things have happened, supernatural things. Of course, according to many of the citizens, St. Palmer is perfectly normal, but who listens to them anyway?
I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about that though – nothing too terrible has happened…yet. Instead, worry about the pirates if ye be a settler, worry about the buccaneers if ye be a pirate, worry about the amount of money ye have whoever you may be, and worry about the survival of St. Palmer, her citizens, and her flag.
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Welcome//Rules//Families//Jobs
~~~~~~~~
Questions? The mod team will be happy to assist with anything!
Administrator
Divine Intervention
Moderators
Abigail Dobbs
Aurora Andover
Eilis Lancaster
Zachariah Silver[/center]
________________________________________________
Lyrics from the original “Pirate Song”
In a world of intrigue, nothing is as it seems...[/color][/font][/center]
The faces you pass are masked, hidden for many reasons – scandal, loss, heartbreak, and dark pasts. Upstanding citizens harbor secrets that one wouldn’t begin to dream of, and there’s something not quite right about the quiet isle just a hop and a skip away from San Profit. Ladies in frills are pirates in disguise, and beautifully spun lies are as common as the currency. One door never closes unless two more open – St. Palmer may seem calm, but it’s all part of a secret facade – just ask the pirates.
To the mast nail our flag it is dark as the grave,
Or the death which it bears while it sweeps o'er the wave;
Let our deck clear for action, our guns be prepared;
Be the boarding-axe sharpened, the scimetar bared:
Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me,
For the last of my duties, the powder-room key.
Or the death which it bears while it sweeps o'er the wave;
Let our deck clear for action, our guns be prepared;
Be the boarding-axe sharpened, the scimetar bared:
Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me,
For the last of my duties, the powder-room key.
Our story begins in the 1700s (around the year of 1712) in an established English colony, known only as St. Palmer. To the ephemeral passer-by the town appears normal. There are giggling, blushing young women, head-strong, handsome young men, children who run amok in the streets, sailors and navy men coming in and out of port, guards to keep the town safe (usually) and parents who worry and smile fondly upon all. Yes, the citizens of St. Palmer and the neighboring Isle (San Profit) paint a captivating picture of serenity and town life as it should be, but stay awhile and you will uncover the hidden secrets that haunt the sandy shores and the people living there.
It shall never be lowered, the black flag we bear;
If the sea be denied us, we sweep through the air.
Unshared have we left our last victory's prey;
It is mine to divide it, and yours to obey:
There are shawls that might suit a sultana's white neck,
And pearls that are fair as the arms they will deck.
If the sea be denied us, we sweep through the air.
Unshared have we left our last victory's prey;
It is mine to divide it, and yours to obey:
There are shawls that might suit a sultana's white neck,
And pearls that are fair as the arms they will deck.
Opportunities abound and success awaits. As a privateer, everything seems to be in your favor. An excess of friendly English colonies are ready and willing to buy your plundered goods, while the high seas are sure to bring you adventure. As a pirate, you are living in a lucky time. Some English governors offer you quasi-amnesty, in return for looting a Spanish ship, and these dear unsuspecting people treat you like long lost relatives when you show up in town with your pretty smiles and lying eyes. Yes, some do still hunt you - but that's half the fun.
As a colonist you stand a chance of succeeding…a much better chance than you did in England, France, Ireland, Scotland, or wherever you came from. War and economic destruction is gripping the rest of the world, and there’s a good chance our little providence may be spared their troubles. You’ll find a welcoming community, ready and waiting to embrace you as one of its own.
As a colonist you stand a chance of succeeding…a much better chance than you did in England, France, Ireland, Scotland, or wherever you came from. War and economic destruction is gripping the rest of the world, and there’s a good chance our little providence may be spared their troubles. You’ll find a welcoming community, ready and waiting to embrace you as one of its own.
There are flasks which, unseal them, the air will disclose
Diametta's fair summers, the home of the rose.
I claim not a portion: I ask but as mine
'Tis to drink to our victory - one cup of red wine.
Some fight, 'tis for riches - some fight, 'tis for fame:
The first I despise, and the last is a name.
Diametta's fair summers, the home of the rose.
I claim not a portion: I ask but as mine
'Tis to drink to our victory - one cup of red wine.
Some fight, 'tis for riches - some fight, 'tis for fame:
The first I despise, and the last is a name.
Do not let me mislead you, life in St. Palmer isn’t all angels and fruit cake. You’re in the Caribbean now mate, and things go on here I could not begin to describe. Some say that Fredrick Palmer, founder of our island, found dark, mysterious beings when he first came here--beings that fled into…into…well, we don’t know exactly. But strange things have happened, supernatural things. Of course, according to many of the citizens, St. Palmer is perfectly normal, but who listens to them anyway?
I fight, 'tis for vengeance! I love to see flow,
At the stroke of my sabre, the life of my foe.
I strike for the memory of long-vanished years;
I only shed blood where another shed tears,
I come, as the lightning comes red from above,
O'er the race that I loathe, to the battle I love.
At the stroke of my sabre, the life of my foe.
I strike for the memory of long-vanished years;
I only shed blood where another shed tears,
I come, as the lightning comes red from above,
O'er the race that I loathe, to the battle I love.
I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about that though – nothing too terrible has happened…yet. Instead, worry about the pirates if ye be a settler, worry about the buccaneers if ye be a pirate, worry about the amount of money ye have whoever you may be, and worry about the survival of St. Palmer, her citizens, and her flag.
[/font]
Welcome//Rules//Families//Jobs
~~~~~~~~
Questions? The mod team will be happy to assist with anything!
Administrator
Divine Intervention
Moderators
Abigail Dobbs
Aurora Andover
Eilis Lancaster
Zachariah Silver[/center]
________________________________________________
Lyrics from the original “Pirate Song”