‘The Bastard who would be a Gentleman Admiral’William(‘Liam’) Alfred FitzÆthelwulf Airedale-de-Aysgarth “Ironside”“Shāhkhān” – is what his Ottoman followers call him, a title-cum-name he bestowed upon himself.
“Captain FitzKhān” is what he’s known as. (
“Lord Airedale” would be his title were he not a bastard and ‘Lord of the Manor’.
‘Liam Airedale’ (or
‘Liam d’Aysgarth’ in France/on the continent) is what he's known to friends as, whereas
‘Alfred FitzÆthelwulf’ is more formal - and befitting a Gentleman Admiral.)
Core concept:- An Englishman who fashions himself as a ‘Gentleman Admirable’, a man of birth and high standing – on his father’s side. On his mother’s? Not so much.
History & Origin:His grandfather was a career mercenary-turned-knight, the captain of a company that fought in various European wars selling his services and amassing wealth through plundering weapons and armours, pillaging and sacking cities, and the ransom of prisoners.
When he had made his fortune, and had a core of thirty battle-hardened men left (of the original two-hundred or so), he decided that he had had enough of adventuring, stopped bolstering the company ranks with men from the continent, packed up and went home.
With the money he’d made, he bought lands and built a castle, and hired peasants to rear sheep. The wool trade wasn’t the most profitable, but it let him rent out his lands, and let him go hunting in the nearby forests, streams, and lake. Most of his men stayed with him, and brought back their mistresses, whores and some settled down with local girls. He even started a brewery and kept horses – those that had survived the years of war and the trip back. Soon, a community started up around them, and it became a small, thriving market-town, and he was ‘lord of the manor’. Society began to take note of him and others like him. He bought libraries off other less-well-off nobles, and even purchased the remains of an Abby and did it up – in part to atone for his sins. All in all, it was what they dreamt of.
The trouble started with his son. Wishing a life of adventure himself, and not caring for his father’s dream, he ran away with some friends to France. Everything went swimmingly until he ran out of gold. With the last pieces of silver, he bought himself some wine, and returned to ‘Daddy’. However, not everything was bad: he had made friends and contacts, amongst the vineries and studs, for he had an eye for horseflesh and a taste for fine wines, and these he humbly offered his father. Naturally, the not-so-newly-styled ‘Lord of the Manor’ took full advantage, and sent his son over as part of a merchant delegation, his ‘representative’. Charisma was something that ran in the family. The son got the ‘adventure’ he wished for, and his father got what he wished for: more money.
Of course, contacts weren’t the only thing that the son made: he also met a lovely lass from the South of France, with Spanish and Italian roots. Unfortunately, his father had arranged a marriage for him back at home, but he kept her on as his mistress. His own wife was comely and fair, and not at all like his dark haired beauty. Skin the shade of olives, and eyes as black as night, she couldn’t have been more different to the hazel haired & blue eyes Saxon-Briton with an Irish grandfather and fire to match. The wife produced many children, but his mistress bore him a son.
Which brings our unfortunate tale to its focus: the bastard.
Having heard his linage and origin, the bastard’s story is next:
His father did not leave him in France, as one might suspect, but after the age of ten, brought him back to England. Out of sight in an Abby two counties away, the boy was taught how to be an Englishman. His mother had already taught him French, Spanish and Italian, but in England, he also learnt Latin, Greek and of course, English. In his fourteenth year, he understood that he would never inherit, but it was not until his sixteenth he was able to return to France. By now, his father had purchased a vineyard, and spent visits with his mother when he was not with his English wife. Taking pity on the boy, he had left him a tutor who drilled him in horses and fencing, hunting with dogs, rifle and horse, reading, writing and mathematics. After giving him a moderate sum of money, the bastard was given a choice: remain in his father’s employ, but never inherit, and never come to the family estate, or make his own way.
There was no choice at all. Bitter at his father’s decision to abandon him to his younger half siblings, but grateful for the charity and education, he decided to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.
The next two years saw him journeying through France, and then to Italy. Winding up on a ship in Venice, he found himself headed towards the Ottoman Empire: an exotic land where he might make his fortune. An adventure far from the confines of Northern Europe.
The Northern Coast of Africa was rife with pirates, and it was one such pirate vessel that intercepted the vessel off the shores of Sicily. Barely managing to evade capture, he was one of the lucky ones. Most of the crew were slain or enslaved, and the ship was spared only by the interception of another merchant vessel armed to the teeth. The original ship could not be saved, her cargo taken and most of her crew gone, so he enlisted with his saviours. Four years passed, and he learnt all he could about the sea, and rose through the ranks, favoured by the captain for his wit, good looks, and good natured laugh. It also helped he was multilingual, and he picked up Dutch within a mere few weeks.
Eventually, he wound up in Istanbul, once Constantinople, and it was nothing like he expected. Upon docking, he wound his way to a tavern, and witnessed a raid as the local forces clamped down on ‘smugglers’. His captain cast off, leaving him, and a few others, marooned.
He needed a ship, he needed to get out of there.
After many mishaps, and running into those he should not have, he found himself with the beginnings of a crew – part Ottoman, part European, part Nubian. None were ethnically Turkish, but all had been taken from their homelands as children, or second or third generation of captives, and all longed for freedom. Deserters one and all; Janissaries, Eunuchs, Slaves. He was the bastard with the bloodline that led them. They waited, planned, and took their chances: crossing over to Greece, after catching a ferry, they headed south and west to Athens. There they signed on with a new captain, and after encountering pirates – who the captain was in league with – captured the ship, and set sail.
Since then, he lived a life of intrigue, riches and adventure. He traded ivory from Africa, silk from China, slaves, hookah pipes and other trinkets, flintlocks, sabres of Damascus steel, opium, wine from France and Italy, gems, jewels, gold, silver, jade, wool, falcons, crates of granite-encased ice-packed sorbet (worth a fortune), Arab horses and... racing camels. Most of all, he was a student of language and culture, and took every opportunity to learn all he could. Weapons, horseflesh, camel-flesh, his trade, the intricacies of politics from the Eunuchs, Janissaries and slaves; the markets, theology… anything he could.
All the while, he made contact with the pirates that dominated the northern African coastline, beys and sultans, Egypt and the Ottoman Empire. He was a trader, a merchant, a buccaneer – and he desperately required a ‘letter of marquee’ from the English Crown, or he would end his days on the gallows. Unlike his grandfather, who’s mercenary occupation was legal, his was not.
His past caught up to him in the form of a Spanish warship. Attempting to outrun a blockade, the wind changed and everything went wrong. Making a dash for the open ocean, he headed for the Americas in the hopes of outrunning his chequered Mediterranean past, and beginning a new voyage to the Far East and China. He would bring back gold and jade in exchange for opium. Unfortunately, the blockade had caught wind of his opium dealings, and after almost running out of all food and water, he reached the Americas. There, Fate cursed him, and a sudden storm sunk his ship just before the Spanish could catch him.
With only eight of his men, and two of his slave girls, he went ashore. All he had left was his great coat, silk shirt, trousers and boots, his bicorn hat, his dragoon Wheelock, his
yatagan, and
Shashka. These three were his most prized possessions; the Russian sabre was his favoured blade, and had cost him more than he cared to admit. That he had even lost the white camels and prized Arab stallion galled him the most. They were worth a fortune.
Of his crew, all that survived followed him loyally. He had brought them wealth. His dreams of glory had faded, and his beautiful ship, his proud 32-gun East Indianman, the best merchantman he had ever seen, lay at the bottom of the sea, her cargo irretrievable. He had not even had the time to search the shore, for the cursed Spaniards would surely catch up to him.
…And now they were here.
The Crew: (surviving henchman)x1 Anglican priest
x5 Janissary deserters (Christian Armenian) - musketeers
x2 Eunuchs Bodyguards (Nubian) – great two-handed scimitars & hand-cannons
x2 slave girls (Persian) – ‘tea servers’ (amongst other things)
Equipment:- bicorn hat (most important – black)
- great coat (second most important – blue)
- Shashka (primary)
Russian sabre sans guard - yatagan (offhand)
Turkish sword- Dragoon Wheelock (slung across back)
- Silk shirt, white silk gloves, trousers and boots
- Spyglass, compass
Other:He lives the image of a self-styled admiral, in finery and manners; a gentleman bastard, who appreciates the finer things in life. It is all about the class, the image, and he caters to it – from entertaining emissaries of sultans and beys, to pirate captains and pirate lords. His two slave girls are literate, and well trained. Those that make up his retinue are all worth their weight in gold. The trouble is, he’s lost most of his crew and time is running out. He needs another ship, and he needs his letter of marquee.
Fortune, who once favoured him so highly, now spits on him.
Would he ever have a ship to match his beautiful ‘Lady Jade’?
Appearance:Black hair, blue eyes, slightly olive cast to his fair skin. There is a dark exoticness about him; dashing, handsome, and a knowing in his eyes. He is charismatic, a born leader, but beneath that there is a dark underlay of cutting, biting cynicism and a keen intelligence. Cold and ruthless, he can make the hard and harsh decisions in the heat of the moment and outside, but it is all about the image. A life of adventure is not an easy one, and he writes his own story – or more accurately, his slave girls do as he dictates to them. As to why he keeps a priest on board – well, a gentleman has to be free of sin and keep a certain standard. He leads by example and command.
To those that know of such things, there is something about him that is undeniably English; something in his mannerism, his stance, his nonchalant arrogance, his disdain of fear and death, as if such things were beneath him. Everything about him screams it, and at the same time, it’s invisible and most cannot put their finger on it.
But it’s there, it’s definitely there. Perhaps it’s the proud, confident gaze, and the veiled self-deprecating contempt, the wry humour and dark amusement at some private joke. Whatever it is, he has the bearing of a self-styled prince, the ‘hero’ of his own story, and seemingly in love with his own image – were it not for the flicker in his eyes.
It’s the slight touches that betray his true intentions and thoughts – the question is: is it deliberate, or is he unaware? Mixed with all of this is the cold calculation, and steely determination, and most of all, confidence: in knowing himself.
Basic Skills (as if it were needed – just a few, incomplete list)
- Writing, Reading, Languages: Latin, Greek, English, French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Turkish, Arabic
- Navigation (compass, stars, map reading-writing), sailing, astronomy, captain-y stuff, mercantile-economic stuff (how to trade, what to trade, where to trade).
- Gunnery(cannons, pistols, muskets, rifles), hunting(dog, rifle, hawk), falconry, riding(horse, camel), fencing/duelling,
- Leadership skills, command skills, theology skills, wine connoisseur, expert eye for gems and jewellery and suchlike; antique dealer, pirate.
(OOC Note: I'm aware that the Armenians are not Church of England, but they were 'converted' from Oriental Orthodox. ...We'll go with that. As to the Eunuchs and slave girls? They girls don't practice their faiths openly, and one of the Eunuchs is Islamic, the other is not. Whether they are genuine or just offering lip-service - well, that is a question for the ages.)