Commodore James Norrington (navalofficer) wrote in mirage_rpg, @ 2009-01-09 09:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | arrival, complete, day 28, george lass, james norrington |
Who: Commodore James Norrington and George Lass
When: Day 28
What: The Commodore arrives
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
James stood at the battlements overlooking the harbour of Port Royal, watching the preparations being made on the Dauntless. He very firmly did not look at the empty berthing that should have held the Interceptor. He did not want to think about the loss of his beautiful ship or the half-finished report that still sat on his desk. He was struggling to write the damnable thing. How was he supposed to explain cursed Spanish gold and undead pirates to the Admiralty in a manner that didn't see him recalled to London and sent to an asylum?
He sighed then turned on one heel and headed for his office. The Dauntless would be ready to sail with the tide and thus he also needed to be ready. He would simply have to take the report with him and hope that inspiration struck while they were chasing down Sparrow. With any luck, he might capture the irritating man and his ship. The hanging of a nortorious pirate and the capture of a ship might well be enough to allow him to slide over the loss of the Interceptor.
He pushed aside the twinge that the thought of hanging Sparrow created. His conscience had been troubling him on that score since they had first captured him after Barbossa and his crew had been dealt with. But the law was the law and it was James' duty to uphold the law. And the law said pirates were to be hanged, therefore that was what he would do.
He opened the door to his office and stepped through... not into his office but into snow and wind and biting cold. He turned in shock only to find that the door had disappeared. He turned again, clapping his hand down onto his hat as the wind threatened to snatch it off his head. The cold was intense, especially to a man who had been living in the Caribbean for as many years as he had, and cut right through his clothes.
He peered around for a moment and saw a shadow looming in front of him. He immediately headed in that direction and saw it was a building and in front of him was a door. He opened the door and hurried inside, knowing from his childhood in England that such cold could be lethal. What he saw inside baffled him. He seemed to be in some kind of foyer, richly appointed and luxuriously decorated. Where in the name of God was he and how had he gotten here?