Pirate Ship Mafia [Concluded]

[slashandburn]

Pecunia non olet.

I don't speak french.

[Splitpersonality]

L'argent ne sent pas

[a completely inoffensive name]

THANK YOU ONLINE TRANSLATOR! WOULD TRANSLATE AGAIN! A+++++++

[Beskar]

According to Worldlingo -
Pecunia non olet. = Pecunia non olet.
L'argent ne sent pas = Money does not feel

[GeneralHankerchief]

It's Latin, meaning "the money doesn't smell".

[Beskar]

It's funny that the french translation is "Money does not feel" then.

Does that mean that the oder in France is so excessive, you can feel it?

[Louis VI the Fat]

Pecunia non olet ("money does not smell") is a Latin saying. The phrase originally related to the urine tax levied by the Roman emperors Nero and Vespasian in the 1st century upon the collection of urine.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[edit] History
The Urine Tax (Latin: vectigal urinae) was a tax levied by the Roman emperor Nero in the 1st century upon the collection of urine. The lower classes of Roman society urinated into pots which were emptied into cesspools. The liquid was then collected from public latrines, where it served as the valuable raw material for a number of chemical processes: it was used in tanning, and also by launderers as a source of ammonia to clean and whiten woollen togas.

The tax was eventually discontinued, but it was re-enacted by Nero's successor Vespasian and applied to all public toilets within Rome's now famous Cloaca Maxima (great sewer) system. The Roman historians Suetonius and Dio Cassius report that when Vespasian's son Titus complained to him about the disgusting nature of the tax, his father held up a gold coin and told him, "Non olet! ("It doesn't stink!"). (Dio Cassius, Roman History, Book 65, chapter 14.) This phrase is still used today to show that the value of money is not tainted by its origins. Vespasian's name still attaches to public urinals in France (vespasiennes), Italy (vespasiani), and Romania (vespasiene).


[edit] In literature
"Vespasian's axiom" is referred to in passing in the Balzac short story "Sarrasine," in connection with the mysterious origins of the wealth of a Parisian family. The proverb receives some attention in Roland Barthes's detailed analysis of the Balzac story in his critical study S/Z (Barthes, S/Z, trans. Richard Miller [New York: Hill and Wang - Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 1974] pages 39–40; see lexia number 26). It is possible that F. Scott Fitzgerald alludes to Vespasian's axiom in The Great Gatsby. As Nick crosses the Queensborough Bridge he observes "the city rising up across the river in white heaps and sugar lumps all built with a wish out of non-olfactory money." (Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, New York, Scribner, 1925, p.#73).

[KukriKhan]

Drat. And here I was half-way through constructing a (fake) etymology for the phrase, involving a Roman continuation of a Greek observation of Persian goats, involving fig leaves, miserly farmers, and ancient ducats. Oh well. Next time.

[Splitpersonality]

I probably conjugated it wrong, I suck at french :(

[Louis VI the Fat]

Hmm...I was wondering:
Do the English actually have got money to spend in this game? I mean, if they don't, then that would mean the buyer is off the hook. (If he can provide me with a cc-ed PM to GH transferring the money)
Could be a way to find the English out.

I probably conjugated it wrong, I suck at french :(

The proper expression would be: 'L'argent n'a pas d'odeur'.

[Splitpersonality]

Right, I just realized my mistake. I was using "to smell" idiomatically, and it doesn't translate like that. It would be more like the money itself does not smell, because it has no nose.

*facepalm*

[GeneralHankerchief]

Night has ended, no more orders will be accepted.

Processing now.

[Lord Winter]

To all those I've sent PM's I've gotten behind in the game and am trying to catch up with the thread. I'll respond back to you when I do.

[pevergreen]

These weird length phases are throwing me off... Gah. 24 hours or bust IMO.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Night 5

Beskar was busy being entertained by a friend of his. Nights aboard the Presence were long, lonely affairs, and he was grateful for the company. On this particular night, his fellow crewman was reflecting on the magnitude of the fast-diminishing feat they had pulled off: the sack of Charleston.

"It be rare for any pirate crew to hold a city hostage, especially nowadays with the great crackdown and the British actually havin' all their ropes in the right place, unlike the Spanish." Beskar sat and nodded knowingly. "'course, even back in the old days, 'twasn't every day that a crew brought home a whole ship's load of treasure, really. Best at it was Morgan, of course, the cleverest sailor who ever did live. Ye know about Panama, don't ye?"

Beskar nodded. Of course he did. Everyone knew about Panama. Despite this, the story never got old, and he let his friend spin the classic tale.

"Well, Morgan had had some previous successes raidin' Spanish territory, as ye know. Ones that come to mind are Puerto Principe, Maracaibo, and Portobello, and the loot from those stashes were beyond countin'. Despite the massive haul from all those, the greed of Morgan was sensational, and he wanted more. Now, the three great Spanish cities of the Caribbean at the time were Havana, Cartagena, and Panama. Nobody worth his salt even dreamed of doing anything with those jewels, not even a night o' hard drinkin'. It was suicide, see. But Morgan, he didn't think like any other man. He saw a weakness in one of the three." He paused, looking out over the ocean, and then resumed.

"He knew Cartagena was nigh unassailable, even then, for the fortifications surrounding the city and harbor were top-o'-the-line. Havana too, was too rich and too heavily-guarded. The Spanish forces were spread out across the Main, ye be knowin' this, and as a result they didn't have enough men to protect any one city. Ye be needin' to be loved by Mother Spain if ye wanted to be protected. Well, Havana was one of the few that Mother Spain deemed worthy of protectin', so Havana was out. But Panama... now, Panama be connected to the Pacific, not actually the Caribbean. Ye had to land on the other side o' the Isthmus in order to make an attack, and the Spanish be countin' on that as their main defense."

"But they still had soldiers and fortifications there, right?" said Beskar.

"Oh, aye, but they were hardly used, because again, nobody even dreamed of attacking it. So, the garrison became a bit... lax, ye might say, and so was its funding. So Morgan figured, if he could get his men to Panama, well, the hard part would be over, and his mateys would find killin' the Spanish t'be easy in comparison. The only problem, of course, was gettin' across that isthmus. 'Twas a relatively thin strip of land, aye, but it be the single worst strip of land that length ye could imagine, what with hills and marsh and jungle the whole bleedin' stretch. Upon the landing, Morgan brought more than enough men to take the city, a number in the thousands, but then they actually started the walk. And then the lives started to be lost. Gettin' lost on the way. Snakebite. Malaria. Starvation. By the time they actually got to the plain east o' the city, the crew was ready to mutiny, unbelievable as it sounds. But Morgan finally found some animals, slaughtered them, fed them to his crew, and got them together long enough for them to band together, and kill the Spanish. Sometime during the sack, a fire was started, and by the time they got out of there with their king's ransom, the city was almost fully consumed by the flames. The cloud of smoke was said to be so high ye could see it from anywhere in the Caribbean, and those sages amongst us said that it signaled the end of an era. 'An end of an era', they said. Imagine that!" he said, and started to laugh. So what does that make us, then?"

"I'm not sure," said Beskar. "I mean, we have to be gettin' back to Nassau first before we become the stuff of legend. No sense in feelin' good about ourselves when there's all this treachery aboard, eh?"

"Aye, how right ye are," said his friend, who was beginning to finger his sword. However, just as he was preparing to pull it out and behead Beskar with one sweep, a group of men walked by, cutlasses drawn.

"But hopefully, none of that will happen tonight, eh mateys?" one of the group said, not so subtly making some motions with his cutlass.

"Aye, Lord be willing," Beskar's "friend" said, turning red in embarrassment and excusing himself shortly afterwards to get some sleep.


SSNeoperestroika was under the distinct impression that he was being watched. He was above decks to get some air, it was true, but his sixth sense was strong and he felt that any more fresh air, at least this night, would be hazardous to his health.

Just as he started to make his way to the stairs back below deck, he sensed some motion behind him. Illuminated by the moonlight was a figure, swinging down from one of the myriad ropes on the ship, ready to behead him as he passed by. Acting purely on reflex, SSNeo ducked, leaving the would-be rope assassin to swing high and miss. As he felt the attack pass over him, SSNeo rose back to his full height, watching with some amusement as he watched his attacker crash face-first into the mast. He made his way back below decks, chuckling.


Despite his persona of a big, burly, never-sober man who had enough tales of tavern wenches to fill a library, Itchy Lou (Diana Abnoba) was actually, at heart, an art aficionado. On previous raids, when the crew had returned to Nassau with their loot, Itchy Lou would usually buy small woodcuts while the rest of the crew went and boozed it up until they were all out of gold. Itchy Lou's art habit left him with just enough money for the cheapest rum and wenches in the port, which probably contributed to his reputation. It was a cycle that made everybody happy.

Itchy Lou would secretly bring his woodcuts aboard, for there was little fear of them being ruined by the water. Sometimes, he would study them above decks, illuminated by the pale moonlight, and appreciate them, knowing that he was one of the very few pirates able to comprehend beauty in such a form. Tonight was one of those nights, just Lou and his woodcuts, in solitude. Or so he thought.

One man saw Itchy Lou sitting, alone, and approached him. "Woodcuts?" he asked, leaving Itchy Lou to look up in delight. "Aye!" he said, surprised. "Be ye an admirer?"

"That I am," said the other man, somewhat embarrassed. "Never thought I'd find another one on board, that's for sure. What be ye studying right now?"

"I got the works of Ugo da Carpi with me right now," Lou said. "A bit lesser-known, but the dealer in Nassau doesn't really get much, so I be happy with what I have. Besides, da Carpi copies work from such other greats as Raphael, allowing their genius to be shown in other forms. I be quite grateful for that, aye. What be some o'yer favorites, my friend?"

"Well," said the second man, noting that he had Itchy Lou's full attention. Lou didn't even notice three men inching up behind him. "I be likin' the work of Albrecht Dürer, meself. He be a master at the woodcut, maybe even the best ever."

"Aye, that he be," said Itchy Lou, still in too much wonder to sense that anything was wrong. "Tell me, do ye be havin' a particularly favorite Dürer work?"

"It just so happens that I do," said the second man. "I be admirin' most his Apocalypse series, especially the 'Four Horsemen' cut. As a matter o'fact, all of us be fans of that particular work." Finally, Itchy Lou looked up in shock, noticing the other men for the first time. It was with this expression that his face would have etched on it forevermore afterwards, as one of the other men lopped his head off as soon as he looked up.


pevergreen was being chased, chased by a single attacker. He did not know what he had done to provoke this man, or even really anything at all about him. All he knew is that he had been scurrying around the ship for two hours now, still being pursued by someone who did not seem to tire.

All the while, pever was slowly losing his energy, his vitality... possibly even his life force itself, although he was too focused on escape to notice. More annoying still, every time he tried to retreat below deck, the pursuer was always there, somehow spookily managing to block his one safe line of retreat.

As pever started to get more panicked and more tired, he made more mistakes. Finally tripping over a loose strand of rope (incidentally enough, the same rope that someone had used earlier in the night to try to kill SSNeoperestroika), he lost his balance and knew it was over. Falling face forward, by the time he turned around, his pursuer was standing right over him, blunderbuss in one hand. By the moonlight, pever could see the man's yellow, yellow teeth. What was possibly even more disturbing is that there seemed to be a second light source forming, this one emanating from the man's eyes. All in all it created a very unearthly appearance, and pever knew he was a goner. All he wanted to know now was...

"...why?" he asked.

He didn't get a response, save for one from Bess the blunderbuss that put an end to any further questions.


In the morning, Captain Crazed Rabbit arose and did his now-standard body count from the night. "Only two," he grumbled to himself upon completion. "That's an improvement." Once he had roused the crew, he addressed them above decks, as usual.

"All right lads," he said, "here's where we stand. It be clear that we're bleedin' 'em out, that much is certain. I've got some more results, and it's good news. Cut me some slack, because our former Quartermaster Sigurd did turn out to be a dirty rotten Maven traitor, after all. Despite the losses of Beefy187, Tratorix, and Iskander 3.1 - loyal crewmen all - we *are* making progress. Fall back on that, lads, and remember that the officers are always right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is now Day 6. The phase will end Monday, October 12th, at 22:00 US Eastern.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Attacked: Centurion1 (n1), LittleGrizzly (n1), taka (n2), Andres (n3), Askthepizzaguy (n4), Beskar (n5), SSNeoperestroika (n5)

Murdered: LittleGrizzly (n1), atheotes (n2), gibsonsg91921 (n2), Tratorix (n3), Iskander 3.1 (n3), Beefy187 (n3), scottishranger (n4), DisgruntledGoat (n4), Andres (n4), Diana Abnoba (n5), pevergren (n5)

Lynched: woad&fangs (d2), Sigurd (d3), Jolt (d4), ricera10 (d5)

Removed from play: Xehh II, johnhughthom, YLC

Souls aboard (33):
a completely inoffensive name
A Very Super Market
A1 Unit
Askthepizzaguy
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Centurion1
Chaotix
CountArach
Crazed Rabbit
Cultured Drizzt Fan
Death is Yonder
Double A
Joooray
Khazaar
KukriKhan
Lord Winter
Louis VI the Fat
miotas
Psychonaut
Reenk Roink
Sasaki Kojiro
Seamus Fermanagh
shlin28
slashandburn
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
SSNeoperestroika
Subotan
taka
TinCow
White_eyes:D
Yaropolk
Yaseikhaan

[pevergreen]

Oooooh. I am so very, very angry.

For a few reasons. I really concentrated on this game. But thats the way it goes.
edit: decided it was a bit too close to breaking the rules for my comfort. Unsporting for me to say it, put it that way.

[Centurion1]

so what happened with beskar? was he protected?

[White_eyes:D]

So you were the one trying to frame ME???....I will need to repay the favor one day

No wonder why you cut a deal with me, to save your hide

[scotchedpommes]

...he watched his attacker crash face-first into the mast. He made his way back below decks, chuckling.

Indeed, ineptitude will never cease to amuse me.

Bring it, fiends.

[White_eyes:D]

GH..... I want to say.....but you will edit it out every time??

I am innocent anyway....

[pevergreen]

So you were the one trying to frame ME???....I will need to repay the favor one day

No wonder why you cut a deal with me, to save your hide

Who are you talking to?

[White_eyes:D]

Who are you talking to?

Just some scum

Why would the Pro-town officer kill you? because they knew you were guilty..

[pevergreen]

I was guilty? I can neither confirm nor deny that.

Perhaps you should ask who was the fourth in the vig group against ATPG, you never did find out.

[Chaotix]

Vote: Abstain just to get a vote down because I'm here right now.

Somehow I doubt it was an officer that killed pever.

[Beskar]

pevergreen was inactive, he never did anything. He wasn't scum, just lazy.

Also, looks like the British are after me. Don't worry, I know it wasn't you who attacked me, White_Eyes:D, they wanted it to look that way though.

[pevergreen]

I wasn't inactive. Night 1 (as revealed in thread) i was in the vig group against LG. Night 2 and 3 if people know they just have to reveal it.

I think I know who killed me.

[White_eyes:D]

I thought that was "The long-tailed killer"?

I really don't think we hit any Brits to be honest...

I think they set-up a fake Protect group..

makes it tricky to find out... Guy one: "Oh we were in a protect group last night, these guys can confirm."

Guy two: "I can confirm that"

Guy three: "I can double confirm that"

whole while they are recruiting away...and maybe a Vig group if they have enough...

[TinCow]

FYI, pevergreen was the fourth person in the ATPG vig hit. However, I don't think Louis was the one who killed him. This time the blunderbuss killer was described as having some sort of glowing eyes. That seems like a special role to me, not a First Officer kill.

[Beskar]

A bunch of people were inactive last night. Heads will be rolling.

Also, the best news:

I've got some more results, and it's good news. Cut me some slack, because our former Quartermaster Sigurd did turn out to be a dirty rotten Maven traitor, after all.

Louis hasn't killed anyone, his power is investigation.

[Splitpersonality]

and remember that the officers are always right."

Sigurd was an officer for a bit wasn't he?