Corsairs of the Red Sails

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Sun Aug 16, 2009 10:25 pm

The Deep, a place of haunting mystery, strange creatures and tales of strange going ons. Such is prominent upon our own Earth but even more so on the world of Tiasia, a world of seas and islands in the thousands. Save on one spot on the map, roughly circular in shape and devoid of even reefs or rocky outcroppings. If one was to dive down into the vast emptiness and go down passed the light, passed the strange fish using light to attract prey and passed the crushing pressure, one would find light. Not the warm yellow light of the sun but a cool, blue light of magic both ancient and forgotten. A great city surrounded by a barrier, keeping the crushing depths at bay, half a dozen faint pricks of light, off in the distance marked the sites of smaller towns and cities, all relics of a long gone empire.

Indeed, if one were to get close, you could see the movements of strange figures, walking amongst the buildings of stone, not that you could get close enough to get a good look, the magical sentries would see to that. Moving through the barrier in fact, were giant humanoid constructs of rock and whalebone, walking about the ruins that surround the magically protected city. More of them worked constantly at maintaining a long tunnel of raised earth and stone, connecting the city to what had been a flooded system of caves beneath the island of Sayos.

Sayos was one of the many islands long abandoned by those living on the surface, for its standing watch on the edge of The Deep and the wicked storms that smashed themselves upon it or the vile creatures coming up nearby to catch prey not found upon the sea floor. However, it was the perfect place to set up shop, as a trade post known to few and dealing fabulous treasures for the completion of strange lists of supplies.

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Night had long blanketed the water of the Peneim Sea and small island of Wain. Far above the water glinted millions of stars and the twin moons of Errion and Arrion soared. When Errion waxed, Arrion waned and then Arrion waxed, Errion waned, creating unique tides at times. The fickle winds that always plagued sailors had died with the setting of the sun, leaving only small waves to gently break an other ways calm water surface.

Captain Peryer Mosvesa leaned against the railing of his Xebec, the Dark Lady and lifted a bottle of plum wine to his lips. It wasn’t the greatest tasting booze but it was the last bottle from a great raid on a small and undefended coastal village that he didn’t even bother in learning the name off. The little dump did however, have a necklace of Bloodsilver, which had been the mayor’s badge of office and now lay within his own cabin.

His soft blue-gray eyes sharpened, as he stared out into the open water. Out there, bathed in the moonlight, was a large, four-masted carrack drifting into view. A thin smile graced his lips, as he laughed quietly to himself and gave an absentminded kick to a sleeping boy on the deck besides him.

“Get below” growled Peryer, “And rouse the crew. I want the rowers at their oars and the lads ready for a brawl.”

“Yes Sir” murmured the boy, a powermonkey to the gun crews, as he scrambled to his feet and ran below decks.

(Want to know more or join up? Please see the OOC thread and post a character for approval: corsairs-the-red-sails-ooc-t27649.html )

Tiix · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Tiix** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 12:46 am

Andy stood looking out at the water in a dark corner of the ship, it all reminded her of her father, she wanted to somehow live in his legend, but she was a girl, it couldn’t happen. She looked from the sea to the moon and brushed through her long hair. These were the only times she got to brush her hair, she missed it… But that was a small price to pay, She didn’t mind really, she really should cut her hair, but she loved it so much, it was the one ‘girly’ thing she had even though no one saw it. She had seen most of the world already and it never got old, She loved it. Her hair was down to her hips now… She hadn’t bothered to even get it trimmed since her father died… Her dad said it reminded him of her mother, She never knew her, but that one fact made her smile. Looking back at the sea she leaned against the railing feeling free. God she had missed this when she was forced to live on land… She had almost lost her sea legs! Sighing she looked at the waves and started to day dream.

She bit her lower lip as she heard the mumbling of voices closer then she’d like. Quickly and well trained she put her hair in the tight bun that it spent most of its time in and put on her hat. Making sure her pistol was at her side she made her way to the voices knowing their tones, trouble was coming. She hated fighting… Just another female trait… but she shut her mouth every time she had to, a man would fight, and as far as everyone on this ship knew that’s what she was. Walking from the opposite direction the boy ran she stepped up to the captain and looked at the oncoming threat.

“What do you think Captain?”

Popcorn · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Popcorn** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 1:20 am

Stont sat in one of his favorite perches aboard the ship: the cordage holding the ships central mast in place. The rope ladder-like structure made it easy to both see what was ahead and to keep an eye on the sailing crew and their leader when the time came to leap into action.

Using one hand to grasp the cordage, he leaned out and saw a large carrack ahead. Stont had been with the Captain Mosvesa long enough to know what that meant. Leaping back to the deck of the ship, Stont wasn't surprised to see the powder monkey heading below deck to wake the crew. Perhaps the Captain would want him to lead the swimmers on a preemptive strike against the vessel. The swimmers aboard the ship excelled at disabling rudders and otherwise hindering the progress of target vessels. Or perhaps his cutlass would be of better use against the enemy crew. It wasn't his place to decide.

Stont was excited for the upcoming attack, but as always, he never let it show. Approaching the captain, he arrived in time to hear one of the younger human men, Andy, asking the Captain what he thought.

It's odd.....the other humans aboard this ship are rugged and weathered. Andy on the other hand looks so........youthful, Stont thought. He quickly forgot about the whole thing, dismissing it as some sort of quirky human trait. After all they couldn't even breathe underwater. Perhaps their age progression was off kilter as well.

"Captain, Andy." Stont nodded. "Will we be sending the swimmers to disable the rudder sir?"

jakor · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **jakor** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 9:16 am

At the sound of footsteps, Victor hopped up and grabbed his pistol and dagger and put them in his belt, aside from his whip were his only weapons. Even unarmed he could usually take care of someone with a few punches but that was "too slow" and "risky" so he figured he should find himself a better weapon tonight. Knowing there'd be plenty for him to take soon, he checked his pistol and settled down on deck to wait for the battle.

Typhon13 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Typhon13** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 10:16 am

Storm claw stalked onto the moonlit deck and watched the target ship closely for a moment "Yeh wan' meh teh take 'em capt'n?" He growled through his atrocious accent, his offer to disable the other ship understandable despite his troll nature. He watched the rest of the crew carefully, waiting for any kind of confirmation on wether this was a cut-purse or thug approach, with a definite favoring of the later personally. He tracked the ship, ready to lash out and cripple it with a miniature tidal wave, or maybe a razor thin lash of hardened water to the mainmast. Regardless, he valued brutality and functionality equally.

The Lord of Hats · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **The Lord of Hats** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 11:06 am

When the call to arms came, Rotendo was busily dumping a load of fish heads that he had recently cleaned--at least, cleaned insofar as anything a gnole is working with can be clean--into a massive iron cauldron, set in place above a roaring fire. Slop for the slaves, though as far as slave food goes, it was actually quite good. HIs ears perked up as the powdermonkey came rushing down the steps. Dere was only one ting dat could mean, and Rotendo's suspicions were confirmed a moment later when the boy started yelling at every to get ready.

"Maybe de trowers finally be pullin' dere weight dis time." he muttered to himself. His voice was low, but musical in tone, a joyful spirit obvious despite the irritation in his words. After carefully checking to make sure the fire would keep until he got back, he began his preparations for the coming battle. He poured himself a glass from his private stock, and passed his hands over it, various powders going into the mix. "Ayza watch me. Manja lift me. Bodagris guide me." He knocked back the rum, and grabbed his machete from near the door. Already he could feel the spirits work within him.

He climbed up the stairs to the deck, machete hanging loosely in his hand at his side.

"Looks like we be gettin' us some good loot tonight!" he leaned back and laughed, a dry, rasping laugh quite in contrast with the smooth tones of his voice. It was a laugh you would become very sick of if you spent a lot of time in the company of Rotendo Sar Jengo. He moved out away from the door. He'd have to wait for the boarding before he would actually be involved in this fight. Best t' lie low while de captains messed about wit gunpowder.

Orrin55 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Orrin55** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 6:49 pm

With a heavy Thud Greyn stepped onto the deck, his massive, single bladed axe already in hand. "Good evening Captain." Despite being a pirate, Greyn still stuck with his polite accent. Bags under his eye's hint at the lack of sleep he's gotten, thou that doesn't stop him from working, A ship is always in need of repairs. A motto his master was always saying, Peering blearily at the Carrack that sail off in the distance "I hope they got some lumber on them, i'm just about out." He patted the boat and leaned against the Railing his Axe resting on his shoulder.

Taken out a small pipe, he lit it and began smoking. The morning was a fine time for it as no one would be awake to complain about it. Smoke began to lazily swirl about the deck as he puffed at the tobacco and with a low voice Greyn began singing.

Off again to the seas of luck
where the brave and cowards seek their cut
The merchants sail and the pirates plunder
fire the cannons and send their ship under
raise a cheer and let loose a roar
The Dark ladies children has come aboard.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 7:16 pm

"What do I be thinkin me lad" chuckled Peryer slightly drunk, wrapping his free arm about the boy's (for he did think that Andy was a boy, probably trying to masquerade as a full grown adult but he was not one to judge in that respect) shoulders and gesturing towards the drifting carrack with the bottle of wine, "I do be thinkin that there be a vessel with enough shinny things aboard her, to make all the whores in Deleos come runnin ta meet us at the docks. Bring 'em down in a number of races, so that our fishmen and dogfaces can get themselves a lass. Maybe we can find you a pretty face with nice wide hips for the eve."

The pirate captain threw back his head and laughed, lifting his arm from Andy's shoulders, so he could place a few light slaps on the boy's back. His gray-blue eyes seemed to fix on the moons, Errion nearly full in the night sky and Arrion just barely a sliver. The laughter died, just as suddenly as it had began, as he downed the last of his wine.

Now, his use of rather insulting terms for his crew wasn't because he was racist, far from it, so long as the sailor pulls his weight but rather because of his up bringing. All his life, Peryer was called nasty names but those he had felt as father figures, with his being the son of a whore and his hanging out in the taverns all day (or night). To him, an insult was just a show of commendatory .

"I think we will Stont" he mused, "Not that methinks she'll be gettin away with the wind dead but she could be hiding oars. Take out the rudder and then have your swimmers climb up the starboard, while we take the port. Bring along a few lines and hooks for it. As for you Storm, methinks that ship's masts are just a tad too high, would you mind trimming them down to size? Or better yet, down to the deck, I think that she'd look much better, don't you?"

He started laughing again.

7achary · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **7achary** on Mon Aug 17, 2009 7:18 pm

Sulu groaned loudly as he rolled off his bunk, a bottle of seawater held loosely in his hand. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes clear, and stood up to adjust his belt. In his drunken stupor he'd forgotten to take his volley gun off and now a good chunk of wood was missing from the foot of his bed.

"Oh my, zat was a close one, no?" Sulu chuckled to himself uneasily as he used a small table with his winnings from last night to lift himself up. From the inordinate amount of footsteps on the deck above him, the Navigator could guess they were about to board some hapless vessel. He lifted his baldric over his naked see-through chest and stumbled up the stairway, drinking from the seawater as he went. "Well, 'ello to ze crew!-hiccup!"

Popcorn · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Popcorn** on Tue Aug 18, 2009 3:15 am

Stont had his orders, and almost let his excitement show for a second.

"Aye, Cap'n! Consider their rudder disabled sir."

With that he turned and headed down below decks to get the other gillocs, passing Sulu on the stairwell. He had lost some money to Sulu in last nights games, but the risk was what made it exciting.

"Eh Sulu, might wanna sober up a bit, looks like the Cap'n has work for us tonight."

Stont continued down to the gillocs bunks and roused them from their sleep.

"Wake up you blokes, its time to go for a swim!"

Stont opened his foot locker and removed a grappling hook and knife, which he traded for his pistol. The swim would get the powder wet and make it all but useless. The other gillocs followed suit and soon they were back up on deck, securing their grappling hooks and rope to their belts.

"Remember," Stont instructed, "No resurfacing until I give the signal."

With that he climbed up onto the railing of the ship, and dove over the side.

OriginalSix · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **OriginalSix** on Tue Aug 18, 2009 9:07 am

Bakarr swayed in the topsail rigging, his eyes following the ship on the horizon, completely detached from the events on deck below.
He'd been watching the ship for several minutes, since it'd drifted into view through the thin mist that clouded his field of vision into the distance. He looked down towards the deck, at the crew scurrying backwards and forwards, Captain Mosvesa standing amidships overseeing the rabble. Bakarr looked back at the distant ship, his lips peeling back into a smile. "The hunt is on."
His joints clicked as he stretched, then turned, gripped the ropes and swung downwards.

Bakarr dropped the last ten feet, landing on all fours with a thump. Three strides away stood the Captain, tall and commanding, Stormclaw the troll Thrower and Andy the quartermaster at his side. Bakarr inclined his head towards Mosvesa as he stood, glancing at Andy out of the corner of his eye. He still didnt understand why she pretended to be a male. She did a fair job of looking like a man if Bakarr were any judge, but nothing could hide her scent.
It didnt matter to Bakarr anyway, she was as good as any male sailor on the ship, and besides, Gnole bitches were far more fearsome than any male given provocation. He doubted any of the crew knew she was a girl, except perhaps the other Gnole, Rotendo the cook, if his heathenistic rituals hadnt yet rendered him insensible.

Bakarr raised himself to his full height. His gaze met Mosvesa's, and he spoke, his voice a rasping growl. "Orders, Captain?"

Tiix · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Tiix** on Tue Aug 18, 2009 3:24 pm

Andy turned away when the captain mentioned finding a lass, she didn't want any of the crew to see her blush a deep rose red, If they only knew that she was a lass, what would they think then? Throw her over board? She didn't know and didn't think she wanted to find out. Walking away from the group in fear they may see her red face she went to the other side of the ship and put her booted foot up on the rail. Checking that all of her daggers and throwing knives were safely in her boots she nodded and checked her pistol. She had the least amount of weaponry on the ship, and she was okay with that... After all she really didn't have anywhere else to carry things; Her whole body was wrapped and disguised to hide her curvy shape.

Once her cheeks had cooled from blushing she walked back over to the group and looked around. They were all ready and eager to fight. She smiled when she thought of the men fighting; it’s what they loved… The excitement, and end the end the lasses and the gold. She was just in it for the sea, the smells, sights, being able to see the world. Her fighting skills were taught to her by her father, He wanted to make sure she stayed alive in any condition. And he had taught her well, she could fight alongside any man on this ship and have them still think that she was one of them.

Leaning over the railing of the ship she took in a deep breath of the salty sea, she was ready, and she waited for her orders.

7achary · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **7achary** on Wed Aug 19, 2009 1:30 am

"Oui, my fishy friend, I have heard zis." Commented the Navigator to an already departed Stont. With no small effort, Sulu climbed the stairs with an intensity and purpose no one on board the vessel had ever seen the Aquaelish have while sober. Creaking planks greeted his arrival as he hefted himself over the stairwell. His head disappeared from sight as Sulu dunked his top in a fresh water barrel and gulped greedily.

The pure water coursed through his body and diluted the amount of seawater in his system, allowing him to think more clearly. Sulu threw back his head, spraying droplets of water on the captain and assembled crew, his sea foam pompadour swaying atop his head dangerously.

"Mon Capitaine, I apologize for the retard of my arrival." The now refreshed and slightly pompous Sulu stood with his hand on the the intricately ornate basket hilt of his cutlass. Looking over the sky with a discerning eye, Sulu clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Tsk tsk tsk. It will be in ze noon time tomorrow before I get us back on ze right course. We are almost a league off ze line."

Sulu loaded his volley gun and held it with the barrel pointed downward in his outstretched arm, a poor imitation of a dueling stance. "Lady Sombre est irritable, son équipage assoiffé et votre temps s'épuise."

Skittle_Overlord · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Skittle_Overlord** on Wed Aug 19, 2009 10:51 pm

‘How did I get myself into this mess again?’ Arto thought to herself. She didn’t know how many times she had thought that sentence; soon it would be the only thing she knew how to say if she wasn’t careful. The cabin boy watched from her perch up in the riggings as the captain left his quarters. Arto liked to hide up in the ropes, she had never been afraid of heights, and after all, almost no one went up there.

Arto quickly scaled down the ropes, her agility being one of her only endowments that benefited her on this ship. As cabin boy it was her responsibility to clean the captain’s quarters, she preferred to do it when he wasn’t there. Secretly being a girl, she didn’t like to draw attention to herself, and so kept out of everyone’s way. Most of all keeping out of the captain’s way, and she was pretty good at maneuvering out of his sights. He had only ever said anything to her once, and had only come into his quarters while Arto was trying to clean them twice, pretty good for being on the ship for four months.

Arto lightly loped to the cleaning den and got out the necessary supplies, noting that the ship was about to enter another possible battle, everyone was bustling into position. The Cabin boy would usually hide under these circumstances, but Arto wasn’t afraid of the battle about to ensue. Not that she wanted to fight, just that she had shed blood a couple times in order to survive while being a thief, both of her hands would have been cut off by now otherwise.

The doll-like cabin boy let himself in the captain’s quarters as usual, putting down the bucket and collecting the empty bottles and plate of the captain’s dinner. Empty bottles were thrown overboard, while the plates returned to the kitchen, Arto quickly went outside to throw the bottles overboard when he stopped to glance at everyone. There was a curtain flair to all of them, they looked….cool. Arto shook her head and went back to her task.

Popcorn · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Popcorn** on Thu Aug 20, 2009 3:26 am

Remaining submerged 10 feet below the surface, Stont and the rest of the Gillocs approached the enemy Carrack. Stont didn't know what was going on aboard the vessel right now, but he knew what would be going on in a short while, and it wasn't something any of the crew members would be looking forward to.

Stont began resurfacing as they neared the Carrack's rudder, and Stont silently broke the surface of the water as he drew his knife from his sheath. It was a procedure that had been done many times, and the other Gillocs remained below the waves, waiting for their moment to strike. Rudders were easy to disable, they had not ever been designed to prevent an attack from beneath the waves. A rope descended from the stern of the ship, looped through the rudder, and ascended back up into the opposite side.

Stont used the rudder to hoist himself up to the rope and gave it a quick cut. He could hear some sailors aboard the Carrack making note of the ship behind them. Stont knew that in the dark, they would not be certain it was the Dark Lady until it was too late. The rudder now being nothing more than an ornament, Stont slipped back beneath the waves. He and the other Gillocs moved parallel to the ship, along the starboard side, remaining deep enough that they would not be noticed by anyone who happened to glance over the railing. The Dark Lady would be taking her prize soon, and the double sided attack always caught their prey off guard.

Orrin55 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Orrin55** on Thu Aug 20, 2009 4:45 am

Boom.....Boom.....Boom Greyn stood as they drew closer to the ship, Despite his civil upbringing he still enjoyed scaring his enemies with a war song. Greyn knew he wasn't was important on the battlefield as the captain and navigator were, but that doesn't stop him from rallying the crew with a swing of his axe and a song on his lips. His foot continued to stomp the deck providing the basis of his rallying song, And with a quiet beginning he was off.

Do your fear the mighty seas
that buck the ships as it pleases
Do you fear the time of death
and dread the final moment of breath
We are the one whom truly fears
shiver and rot blighted by tears

As they drew closer his voice grew louder his Axe pounding away at the deck along side his foot

Come! The Dark Lady rides
upon her back lays her pride
Let us loot your ships prize
stand tall and fast and you will last
retreat one step they cleave your neck
Her blade draws near so cower in fear
and wait as death draws near.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Thu Aug 20, 2009 3:33 pm

"Ah Bakarr" said Peryer, wiping the droplets of water from his face with a casual backhand, "Just the dogface I wanted. Get ye'rself a score of good lads and standby to board. Once we've come abreast of the merchant and given her a broadside, ye will be the first board, try and leave some for the rest of us, wont ye? As much fun as ye might be missin out on, I want a few to cut into slave slops."

The quiet of the night was lifted, as the oars of the Dark Lady slide out from her sides and splashed into the sea. From below decks, the curses and threats of Otto, the slave master, could be heard, as he brandished his wicked whip at those souls unlucky enough to find themselves, chained four to an oar. With almost perfect timing, the long wooden oars rose and plunged back into the water, propelling the corsairs to their prey. Above their heads, the limp red sails fluttered, as a weak wind started to pick up, in the wrong direction for the carrack to even attempted an escape.

About the deck, crewmen raced about, readying their own weapons of choice and loading the six and eight pounders with solid shot. Now those guns were not shipkillers and would have been better loaded with grapeshot but all the stores of the small metal balls was depleted. Sure they could have packed bags with rocks or broken glass but who had the time to do that. And besides, that was the was that lowly rabble made grapeshot, they were corsairs, the finest of rogues.

Over on the Pasha's Passion, the merchantman, her crew scrabbled about on deck, their lookout finally spotting the Xebec slipping from behind Wain. There was a crack like thunder, a flash of fire and a cloud of blueish smoke from her bow. A splash and plume water off the Dark Lady's bow marked were the warning shot landed.

"Their lively lads" cried Peyser, drawing his cutlass and twisting it above is head in a bold flourish.

Several more shots were traded between the ships, as they drew close to each other, with neither gaining any hits. That changed as the Dark Lady came up besides the Pasha's Passion, her oars on the port being pulled inside to prevent any damage. The ten cannon lining her side fired together, with a roar to rival all the thunderclaps in a single storm. The rails and deck of the merchantman exploded as the solid balls of iron smashed into the vessel, large splinters showing scores of the crew, killing and maiming.

Before the smoke cleared, grappling hooks flew from the deck of the Dark Lady and hooked onto rigging and bits of rail. Strong arms heaved on stout ropes, as they pulled the ships side to side.

OriginalSix · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **OriginalSix** on Fri Aug 21, 2009 8:20 am

"Aye, Cap'n." Bakarr turned, and as a sailor walked past with an armful of muskets, Bakarr grabbed his shoulder, spinning him round until they were face to face.
"Bring twenty o' the lads, armed and ready for a ruck. An I'll need me blade" The man gave a hasty salute, almost dropping the muskets, and scurried off.

When the sailor returned two minutes later, Bakarr was crouched at the bowsprit, eyes fixed on the other ship, sniffing greedily at the night air. He coughed, and Bakarr stood, snatching his claymore from the mans hands and drawing it in the same movement. It'd been a few days since she'd been cleaned, so Bakarr held the blade high, examining all the four and a half feet of blade in the moonlight. Apparently satisfied, he shoved it back into its sheath, and turned.

Near two dozen faces stared back at him. Bakarr gave them the smallest of nods, then gestured over his shoulder at the ship ahead. "Ready your weapons boys, we're first aboard."

The Dark Lady closed the distance quickly, the quiet punctuated only by the swish of oars and a few cannon shot. Bakarr paced backwards and forwards along the deck, anxious to get aboard the Passion and wreak havoc. Several of the corsairs took up Greyn's sea shanty, their strident voices joining Greyn in chorus.

Soon they were close enough to see the peering faces of the Passion's crew, close enough for Bakarr to smell their fear on the wind. The Lady came hard to port, barely twenty feet from its quarry. The corsairs gripped their weapons tighter, now silent, staring across at the other ship.

All at once, the Lady's starboard guns spoke. The report was catastrophic, as if the entire sky had cracked in half. The Passion pitched from the impact, several holes in its deck, listing hard enough to knock its crew off their feet. As it righted, grappling hooks snaked through the air from the Dark Lady, snagging onto sections of the reeling ship and pulling the two closer together.

Bakarr broke into a dead sprint. Six feet from the railing, the muscles in his legs bunched, and he leapt. The other corsairs followed swiftly, some swinging across the gap on ropes and grapnels, others jumping across when the two hulls met with a crash. Landing two paces from the what was left of the Passion's portside rails, Bakarr looked around, his sword raised.

The Lady's cannon had paid a fearsome toll on the crew, a dozen laying dead or screaming on the boards. The first man who fought himself to his feet met the point of Bakarr's sword. As he yanked it free another sailor slashed for his face and Bakarr was forced to make a clumsy parry with the crosshilt.

Their weapons locked for a second. Bakarr could smell the fetid breath of the man, saw the fear in his eyes as Bakarr pushed and he was forced back a step by the mountainous hyena-man. Snarling with rage, Bakarr raked his claws over the other mans face and as he fell back, one hand raised to the blood spurting from his ruined cheek, Bakarr swung his claymore in an upward arc, battering the mans cutlass aside. The return swing cleaved straight through the sailors collarbone, cutting six inches into his chest.

Wrenching his sword from the corpse, Bakarr glanced around. The lads were making quick work of the defenders, already fighting their way to the stern towards a small group of sharpshooters that had holed themselves up on the aftcastle.

A second wave of grapnels snagged in the Passion's rigging. Bakarr grinned as more of the corsairs swung across, landing amidst the gunners. Sheathing his claymore, Bakarr drew his cutlass and made for the doors to the lower decks.

The Lord of Hats · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **The Lord of Hats** on Fri Aug 21, 2009 10:04 pm

By this point, Rotendo's eyes were quite thoroughly bloodshot. The spirits were upon him strong, now. Strictly speaking, he hadn't been ordered to get aboard the enemy ship right now, but it would take a brave man indeed to stand in front of Rotendo in his current state. He'd been able to keep himself from joining in on the first wave, out of what he considered a sort of brotherhood with Bakarr, but when the second group of grapnels hit, he was off like grapeshot from a cannon.

His bare feet thudded softly on the deck of the Dark Lady as he rushed to starboard, his momentum slowing only slightly to step up upon the railing. He sprang off of his left leg and soared through the air, machete waving wildly over his head in his left hand. Gazing down at the scene below him, viewing it almost as though it were in slow motion, part of him buried beneath the influence of the spirits riding him, felt almost sorry for the other races, forced as they were to get into the melee the hard way.

There was little time to dwell upon that, however, because soon enough Rotendo had landed, nearly barrelling into a crewman moving from the Passion's starboard side towards the fray. The man raised his cutlass to defend himself, but Rotendo recovered slightly faster, his machete coming across in a wild swing from right to left. It sliced in just below the man's guard, biting into his ribcage and sending him spiralling off of his feet. Rotendo laughed, a deep throaty laugh, much harsher than it had been before.

He looked up for another target only to see, through a reddish haze that laid lightly over all of his senses, that the situation abovedecks was well held well in hand by the first wave. He managed to frown very slightly, the human expression not coming easily to his decidedly non-human face.

"Ya need to be leavin' some for de res' of us!" he yelled.

Suddenly, his eyes alighted upon Bakarr, heading for the lower decks. Grunting slightly as a leaden ball grazed his side, the pain managing to cut through the haze, he followed. There would be fighting to be had belowdecks, and the sooner you got down there the more loot you could try to sneak--not that he particularly cared about the latter right now, or ever for that matter. He managed to intercept Bakarr at the door to the stairs.

"Let's be gettin' dis done, ya?"

jakor · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **jakor** on Sat Aug 22, 2009 10:47 am

Victor cursed himself for missing the first wave, though not as drunk as Rotendo he was still a bit slow. By the time he got across most of the fighting on deck was done and he could see Bakarr making his way below, he started to follow him but saw something out of the corner of his eye.
He turned just in time to see a man charging at him. He tried to block but the other mans blade slid off his dagger and cut into Victors left shoulder, before the man could strike again Victor kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him back a few feet Victor quickly drew his pistol and shot the man. After stabbing the man again to make sure he was dead, Victor took his cutlass, thinking it a fine blade and put it in his belt alongside his other weapons.
Victor considered leading a charge at the aft castle but he knew that it would be foolish with a wounded shoulder, besides it was the job for a gnole or a thrower so he followed Bakarr below deck.

Corsairs of the Red Sails

a topic in Fantasy Roleplay, a part of the RPG forum.

Corsairs of the Red Sails

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