I am not an emotional man, as you well know Cap'n. My goodness, there is even some debate as to whether I have any humanity at all.
Despite that, I found this story to be touching.
I often consider myself a pariah and I harp often about the burdens that I bear. Then I read the hardship you went through, all that you have lost and I realize I am not the only one wandering this Earth, with a great burden.
I remain your loyal servant Cap'n. I hope one day we can bring you home, truly, truly home.
Entry 2, March 6th, Year of our Lord 2005
Dearest Dr. North and Crystal Moon
My friends, I thank you for your patience in reading this no doubt dry and melancholy account of my youth. But it must be told if any are to understand why I pursue villainy in these modern times with such vigilance. These fateful days that I am to write of transformed me so completely that I felt my every step set before me. But I digress in this monologue from the story I have set out to tell
As I indicated, I sailed off in my small boat for Bolougne, a short trip from my home. I found myself pondering my youth, my father, the war, my courtship of my lady Marie, and the time spent at court. I found myself wondering what the future would hold for me, if ever my lady and I would experience the joys of parenting, if we should not retire back to Calais one day where I could live my life by the sea. Irony, no, to wonder a thing, and then to have fate decide it for you? I spent the day in Bolougne, visiting a couple of friends, and returned home the next morning. As I sailed around the coast, my senses were assailed with the pungent scent of smoke, and I viewed tall black smoke coming from the direction of my castle. I tried to coax what speed I could out of the little sailing craft, but the wind was against me and as my desperation built, I finally grounded the craft and took the shore at the fastest pace I could muster. There in our small port stood a 12 gun schooner, waving the Jolly Roger and firing on the castle. Large portions of my ancestral homestead where heavily engulfed in flames. I raced onward, screaming for my lady Marie, but my screams were merely lost in the wind howling around the charnel that was once my home. I was able see several of the fiends responsible for this attack pillaging the remains of my castle, and my desperation turned to rage. One man, the Captain no doubt of this band of brigands, stood out from the rest. His larger black cap set him apart, as well as his cragged face, pitted with scars from his many raids. His one very crooked scar that came down from his left eye to the side of his mouth was burned into my memory at the very moment all hope was taken from me.
It was the moment that I saw the pirate leader that I lost my footing in my headlong race. Tumbling down I struck my head on rocks and was made unaware. Sadly I did not rouse for several hours, and by then the pirate vessel was fleeing and my home was destroyed. O Calais, are there any words left that will honor you? What structures stand to tell your honor and courage that kept your walls these many years? As I came to, my first thoughts were to find my lady love Marie. The thought that these brigands may have harmed her alerted all my senses. As I hunted careful through the charnel that had held my family for 3 generations, I was horrified to discover a pit that contained the burned remains of all of the members of my household. My lady Marie, my loyal servants, all slain and cremated as part of this horrible raid! O my lady, will your eyes never dance with mine again? As my soul, once completed with you, been forever torn asunder? What laughter shall ever remind me of a warm summer day in Calais? What touch shall there be that can bind my heart and soul to another? Anger again replaced desperation, and the dawning realization that all my hopes were now lost.
As I buried the bodies of my wife, and my loyal servants, the anger I felt was slowing growing. I sat by Maries grave and raged against the heavens. My thoughts slowly turned to revenge. These brigands had destroyed ALL I ever valued. What right did they have to exercise such destruction? How do they come to cause such harm, so wantonly? My anger burned to the surface as I swore by all I held dear to find these brigands and make them suffer for the pain they caused. I would find these evil pirates and they would face the wrath of Capitan Black!
I recovered what little I could from the castle. The only treasure I valued that was left unharmed was the famed Ebony Cutlass. It was only chance that one of their first volleys of cannon fire destroyed the room it stayed in and thus made any thoughts of treasure there improbable to these brigands. The blades mere survival reminded me of the legends that it was unbreakable. The rest of the Castle had been picked clean of heirlooms. The stables had been destroyed as well and the horses freed, never to return. Without horses, all that was left to travel was my small sailing craft. I gather what few provisions remained and went back to the craft. As quickly as I could I sailed back to Bolougne.
It was there that I found my friends and quickly told them the story of the destruction of my home and the death of my only true lady love. I spoke of the pirates who attacked and their scarred leader. My friends informed me that this was Captain Shroudheart, a fierce Spaniard who had been raiding the English Coast for some time. Captain Shroudheart, a name that has been cut into my heart. There is not a day that goes by that I dont wonder what happened to him. I would wish that he died some horrible death hundreds of years ago, but I dare not, for it would mean that I would give up hope of returning to my time to inflict that mortal wound myself. Again, forgive all, I digress. As I stayed in Bolougne I researched all I could about this Shroudheart. His real name was Alfonso Balfour, a Spaniard whose father had been killed when we retook Calais from the Spanish 50 years ago. He had started attacking French and English vessels during the Thirty Years war in which I had fought. The English very nearly captured him once, and in his escape he incurred the scar which mars his face. Right before raiding Calais, he had managed to steal the 12 gun out of the Dover Port. This final piece was the clue I needed. If I could retrace his steps in Dover, perhaps I could discover his ultimate destination. My friends provided for me to take passage to Dover, and for their assistance I am eternally grateful. Sadly this is the last time that I have seen these friends, and I fear that even if I return I shall never have the opportunity to thank them.
In Dover, a French noble stands out, even more so, since it was a French noble who swam the channel and destroyed their chances of victory during the war. During the short voyage, I paid a young man for his clothes and left him mine. As I left the ship, I was no longer Lord Jean Philip Black, Capitan of Calais and Capitan of the Royal Guard of her Lady Anne of Austria, the Royal Regent of France, but rather Jean Black, a poor Frenchman seeking opportunity and ale in nearby England. As I journeyed in Dover for the next 2 days, I spied any opportunity I could to find out more about my dear, dear friend, Captain Shroudheart. I caught up with stories about dear, dear Alfonso in a quite maltreated little pub. The ruffians in there were truly quite liberal with rumors for the right amount of ale. In short, I discovered that Sr. Balfour had stayed several days in Dover with his crew before making off with the HMS Triumph. He mentioned several times that he was heading for home first, before heading to the Americas. Home, indeed, for my Sr. Balfour was Valencia, off the Southern Coast of Spain. To find him in his home would indeed be righteous, as had destroyed mine. Vengeance burned in my breast, and I quickly realized that the journey would surpass me if I did not move quickly. Once I was certain of the rumour, I immediately headed back to Bolougne.
Not wishing to take the time with my friends, for fear that they might discourage what was clearly a rash act, I bought the fastest stallion I could with the final funds I carried and raced to Paris. In Paris, I begged entrance to visit my lady Anne. Though I was shabbily dressed, she agreed to my visit. I quickly told her my story and begged her to assist me with what could only be called reckless at best. Anne was deeply troubled by the loss of her daughter (Marie was only the child of King Louis and his mistress) and if it were not for her own grieving I am not certain she would have agreed to my outlandish plan. In my desperation to catch this Shroudheart, I agreed to sell my lands and title to the king if he would fund my expedition. Now what had started in Dover found fruition in Paris. I was truly now and forevermore, Lord Jean Philip Black, Capitan of nothing. The papers to fund my expedition were quickly arranged and I raced with as much fury as possible to Marseille, along the Mediterranean.
It was during the 2 full days that raced to the Coast that I finally began to truly ponder what I intended to do. I realized that a French warship would get little welcome in Barcelona, and furthermore would do much to frighten away my quarry. It seemed preposterous at first, and perhaps it was the journeys exhaustion that gave life to the idea, but it seemed the best way to get close enough to a pirate to murder him, would be to become a pirate. And thus it was that when I finally reached Marseilles that Jean Black had truly ceased to exist, for I feared even that name might give away my motive to my enemy. In his place now stood Capn Black the pirate!
At Marseilles I immediately dispatched to find a suitable vessel and crew. For the paltry funds I had (for Calais, in its condition was not worth much to the King) and given that I no longer used any reference to my noble life, I was still quite fortunate to find the Valour sitting harbored and fully crewed. Its master was another Spaniard as well, Tomas Covas. Though leery of dealing with the Spanish, my time and options were running thin. I met with Tomas over dinner and explained my situation, but without reference to my real name, or Calais. I merely presented myself as man desperate to settle a score against Captain Shroudheart. It was to my fortune that I discovered that Tomas and his brother David, also had scores to settle with Sr. Balfour. Tomas quickly agreed to partake in my expedition and we began to ready the Valour to leave port. While we readied the ship, I learned that Tomas and his brother David were from Barcelona, and that Shroudheart had taken their parents from them when Tomas was 16 and David was but 12. Forced to seek opportunities elsewhere they had done well enough over the last 10 years to own and manage the Valour but had hoped to one day also settle the score with Shroudheart. Agreeing with my tactics in the hopes of revenge, we agreed that the French merchant ship might fare better in its search if it were to became a pirate vessel that could get close enough to our quarry to execute our plans. It was in these hopes that the three of us rechristened the Valour, to the Fue Renard (Fire Fox). And it was on May 5th, in the year of our Lord 1653 that we heaved anchor and set sail for Barcelona chasing nothing but dreams of revenge!
Forgive friends, but once again, the tale has overcome myself! I must pause and reflect before continuing this story. But rest assured, the next entry will explain as much as I know about my journey to this marvelous time. But I truly wish you to understand the horror and pain I have felt and why they drive me to fight evil such as killed my lovely wife. I wish that no man, no woman, no child every feel the crushing blow of bereavement such as I have known. That you all take part in this struggle is what endears me to you all and frees me to share with you the painful burdens I have undertaken. For now, I leave you, as
Jean Philip Black, Capitan of the Firefox
Entry 1, March 4, Year of our Lord 2005
Dr. North, Crystal Moon
I am starting this log book now for two reasons. One, I finally feel sufficient command of your language to commit these thoughts to paper. Two, you are my dearest friends in this brave new world, and I do not wish to leave you without a proper farewell, but I fear should the opportunity to return home present itself, that I will not have the time nor courage to properly bid you all leave. This logbook will have to suffice. Since you have not shared in all my journeys, I will attempt to relate here my past, some of which is as yet untold, and as much of my present thoughts as I can properly write.
This city knows me as Cap'n Black, but you both know me as Jean Black, a noble Frenchman born in the year of our Lord 1625, the year of King Louis the XIII, known to me as King Louis the Just. My father was Lord Philip Black, Captain of Calais, Hero of Vervins, who fought the Spanish to reclaim Calais. My mother, Jeanne, died shortly after my birth leaving my father to raise me.
As a young boy, I took to the water, learning to sail, and to swim. The Channel that separated our home from England constantly beckoned to me, calling me out to soak in its chilly foam, or to coast its surface with little more than the wind and a solid rudder to guide me. It was when I turned 10 that my father decided it would be better if we stayed at court, in Paris, then alone only a score of miles away from the hated English. Though I begged him not to leave our gentle home, my father was not swayed.
In the year of our Lord 1635, we arrived in Paris to attend the Kings Court. My father was a hero and well received and spent much time in the company of the Just King. However, I was soon distraught to find the sea was now miles away, and swimming in the lazy Seine river was frowned upon by the court. It was in these moments of youthful boredom that I discovered swordplay. My tutor, Jean-Luc, was an accomplished fencer, and under his training I was soon able to win matches against much older opponents using the epee. My fascination with the sword grew, and as my strength grew I was soon practicing with my father's family broadsword. It was a passion that almost replaced the sea in my heart.
In the year of our Lord 1640, my father left me in the care of Jean-Luc at court to fight for the King in the Thirty Year's War. I begged to go with him, but again, my father was not swayed. Sadly, it was two years later, in the year of our Lord 1642 that my father returned to court, dead, struck down by the Spanish, leaving me alone in the Kings' Court. Louis took pity on me, and allowed me to keep my father's title, Captain of Calais. I pledged my father's sword into service to the King and his army and immediately went off to fight in the War.
It was here, on the battlefields of my own home of Calais that I fought. Though deeply honored to be in the service of my King, my country, and my home, I found warfare to be quite troubling. All the valor I imagined had vanished and been replaced by horror. Horror at the actions of both my countrymen, the English mercenaries, and the Spanish. Horror at the death that surrounded every battlefield. Horror at the destruction that happened in my own home. But I still fought with valor, courage, and honor. It is in fact here that I truly brought honor to the name of Capitan Black.
We heard stories that an English raiding party was set to sail the Channel and bombard our encampment with their cannons. We had just recently beaten back the Spanish, but at a high cost that left the castle, my castle, without cannon shot, for all had been used in repeling our foes. Should the English cross the channel with their ship, then my home, and my men would surely have been destroyed. It was at first light the morn after we heard these stories that I took the desparate steps to safeguard our borders and our lives. Remember now, that my childhood friend was the Channel, but it is a cold and harsh friend. As I plunged into the frigid waters I was thankful for the summer sun. It was nearly 3 pm in the afternoon before I arrived at the cliffs of Dover. There I laid for a full hour, resting and trying to pull warmth out of the sun. After I felt enough warmth to move on, I climbed the cliffs, bent on sneaking into its small rocky port. That night, the British watched their galleon burn, and their hope of an easy raid burn with it. They did not notice a man, dressed in wrinkled garments, sail away, back across the channel, smiling, knowing his home, his men, his country to be safe, for the night at least.
In the year of our Lord, 1643, my King died, and his son King Louis the XIV was crowned. His advisors (for the King was but five years of age) put an end to war in 1644. I returned to court a hero, but felt strangly empty. It was shortly after this that I met, the Lady Marie, an illegitimate daughter of the previous King. Ah, my Marie. I wish I could convey in words her beauty and how it touched my soul. She auburn hair that captured and reflected the sun, as if the sun too would not argue her beauty. Her green eyes that shone with the light of the world, as they laughed and danced with all who could capture her gaze. Since our first meeting, I knew I loved her. Her charm, her grace they dazzled me. I can't describe the emotions I felt when she first spoke to me, and when she first danced with me. It was as if a very piece of my soul had been taken from me at birth, and captured in her heart, waiting to return to me. Forgive my eloquence Dr., no doubt your psychology could make something of this, but all I know is that I loved Marie, and she loved me.
After a year of courting, my Lady Marie and I were wed and returned to my home in Calais. We enjoyed much time there, and I renewed my passion is sailing, though swimming the Channel now no longer felt cleansing, perhaps Dr. due to my wartime activities. I will leave you to sort this using your "psychology". In any case I wish I could tell you that our life together was perfect, though indeed our love was. Sadly though, and I suspect it is my fault, we were childless. After 5 years, my Lady was quite distraught, and I fear that the horrible things that happened during the War had cursed me.
In any case, to ease my Lady's tension, we returned to court in the year of our Lord 1650. Shortly after our return, that I was caught up in intrigue at the court. I was approached by the Marquis de Cinq-Mars, a friend of mine from my childhood days at Court. His father and my father had been good friends, though in the end, his father choose to partake in a conspiracy at court and had been beheaded for it. In any case, the Marquis approached me about his concerns regarding the Lady Anne, who was regent at the time (the King still only 10 at this time). While I listened and asked questions I was able to determine that the Marquis was being used by others to attempt to spread dissension at Court. I was able to determine, using stealth and trickery that his companions whom were using him, were English mercenaries, sent to discredit the monarchy. I was able to infilitrate the group and overhear of their plot to KILL the regent. They had replaced two of her Lady's guards with their own. This evening, while the Regent was entertaining, she was to be killed, and blame to be cast on her son. I was horrified, and vowed to let no harm come to the mother of my King. I raced to back to the Palace, but in my rush I alarmed the palace guards. The attempted to restrain me, but I challenged them with my sword. Never had I faced so many oppenents at once, but never had the stakes seemed higher. I parried, and dodged and thrust, trying to not kill these loyal, but confused countrymen of mine. Suprisingly I was able to disarm all but 2 of the 8 guards. Sadly, I was forced to kill one of them in my haste (to this day, I still feel deep sorrow for this act), but in the final battle my sword, my father's sword was shattered and I was forced to flee. I was able to run toward the Regent's chambers but more guards were now in the chase, and my prior actions only gave them more cause for alarm. In my desparation I climbed a tapestry and was able to reach a ledge that led outside the castle. Now balanced precariously on a ledge outside the castle I carefully climbed up to a window that connected to the Regent's chambers. As I peered in, I saw two of the guards draw daggers from their belts. THE ENGLISH!!!! Desparate to save this women, whose husband allowed me to keep my title, my lands and my honor, I dove through the window. The guards where startled as was the queen who began to scream. In the confusion, one of the English "guards" raced to attack me and the other grabbed the Regent and held his dagger to her throat. As I struggled to my feet, I saw, in horror, my Lady Marie also in the room, a guest of the Regent no doubt. My fear doubled, and I charged the "guard" who was charging me. As we collided, I grabbed his sword and pulled it free. He fell, and by the grace of God, I stayed on my feet. In one swift motion I sliced off the arm of the "guard" holding the Regent and pulled her away from the English swine. At this point the remaining guards made their way into the chambers and put myself, and the two imposters under arrest. Knowing my wife and my Regent to be safe, I surrendered to their custody!
Shortly thereafter, between the testimony of my wife, the Regent and the Marquis, I was not only acquitted, but was honored to become Captain of the Guard of her Lady Anne, Regent of France. Her son awarded me the Ebony Cutlass, a French treasure that went back to Charlemagne, to replace my own shattered heirloom. It was an all black blade, made not of steel, but rather some unknown metal. It was rumored to be unbreakable, and my later exploits have born that to be true. It was also unbelievably light, allow me greater control and force in my movements, making my skills with the sword reknown in all of France.
After 2 years in the service of the Regent, I begged her leave to return home to visit the sea. She agreed and my lady Marie and I returned home to Calais in the year of the Lord 1652. Relishing the quiet of our home away from the politics and noise of Court, I thought to truly enjoy myself. I decided one day to sail the Channel. My Lady was not feeling herself, so I sailed alone for nearby Bolougne. As I sailed, I felt strangly reminiscent. Not usually one to dwell on the past I found myself thinking fondly of my childhood in Calais, and my meeting and courting of Marie.
Ahh, sigh! Truly innocence was lost for me, and wishing for a thing will not make it so. Forgive my friends, my heart grows heavy with the rest of this entry. I will not be able to finish right now. Allow a forlorn soul some rest and I will finish my tale soon!
Jean Philip Black, Capitan of Calais and her Royal Regent Anne of Austria
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Let me know if I should continue or not, I would love any and all thoughts!