Snippet #1270038

“Damn” Calder mentally cursed, as he took a glance at the hole in his deck. If that rocket had gotten into the hold, it would have sent the entire supply of powder (nearly have the damn cargo) up in a terrible explosion. Not one sailor, passenger or rat would have gotten off the ship alive. Or worse, if the rocket hadn’t landed within the power and shot, it would have landed among the gryphons or the crates, packed with straw and cotton, which held the eggs. He wouldn’t be dead but he’d be disgrace and he might lose his family’s ship.

The pirate captain must be getting desperate to end the chase. Rockets were rarely used aboard ships, as they were dangerous to the crew’s firing them, they were inaccurate, and they could get tangled in a ship’s rigging, set the vessel on fire. Even when used on land, artillery crews told tales about rocket batteries firing, the rockets shooting straight, only to suddenly turn and smash back into the troops, who fired the weapons.

The captain was snatched back to reality from his mental query about the volatile nature of the pirate’s weapons, by a blinding flash. For half a second, the Ulstterman was convinced that a rocket had found it way into the hold and they were about to be blown straight to hell. Then, nothing happened. Someone up the rigging cried out that a bolt of lightning had nearly struck the ship but the voice was drowned in a deafening clap of thunder. The wind turned into a screeching banshee’s wail.

Calder turned his face upwards. Barely moments ago, they had started entering the storm but not, the clouds were a chaotic swirling mass of darkness. Placing a hand on his hat, the captain turned to look towards the ship chasing them. He stared passed it, towards the horizon and couldn’t find the open sky they had just been under. It was as if upon entering the storm, they had been sucked into the middle of the raging force of nature. He couldn’t see the mountains in the distance anymore either.

The rain strung, as the downpour intensified and the wind whipped it across exposed skin like a lash. The waves too changed. When they entered the storm, they had been a moderate eight feet but now, the waves approaching the vessel were over thirty feet. Something was very wrong. None of the sailors, landsmen or old salts had even been in a situation like this before.

A terrible snap echoed across the deck, followed by an unearthly creak. The foremast came crashing down to starboard, pitching screaming sailors into the sea. The dark, rolling water swallowed them, silencing their terrified pleas to God with lungfuls of salty brine. A dozen or so muskets came crashing down to the deck, as greenhands freed their hands to climb back down to the deck. More experienced sailors slung the long barreled firelocks over their shoulders and followed suit.

“Get Below” bellowed Calder, as the ship’s officer’s turned to gaze at him, “Seal all the hatches! Man the pumps! AND PRAY!”

As the crew grabbed loose gear and fallen firearms, Duff Kerr hurried up to the wheel, two heavy ropes in hands. Without words, the captain and the second mate quickly lashed the steering wheel down, hoping to keep the ship on a straight course through the storm. Pausing only to herd the brave or stupid passengers who had remained below decks, the merchantmen disappeared into the bowls of the ship. The echoes of half-whispered, half-pleading prayers flowed through the squawks of panicking gryphons, the groan of protesting pumps, the roaring of the wind and the crash of waves against the wooden hull.

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It would be recorded in the ship’s log, some day’s later, that during the remaining afternoon and into the evening, that most of the crew and passengers would suffer from injury or strange sickness, causing them to blackout most of the evening. It would be important to note, that only most of the crew were affected. Several of the crew, who had been seen below decks after the foremast fell into the sea, were missing in the morning.

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Calder groaned, as a harsh light burned his face. His salt-crusted opened and peered about his cabin, from a position on the floor. Feeling sick and weak, the captain placed his hands upon the wooden deck and shoved, forcing his pain filled body to it’s knees and then to it’s feet. He was squinting at the smashed windows of the great cabin, when the Ulstterman suddenly noticed something was wrong with his ship. It wasn’t rolling with the waves.

Stumbling out onto the deck, Captain Morr stared about in a mixture of horror and amazement, until he fell back against the wheel. The Sea Breeze had been beached upon a sandy shore, wedged between two jutting rock daggers, which had torn open her sides. The mizzenmast had been torn away during the night and the canvas left on the main mast had been ripped to ribbons.

The land itself was alien. The trees swaying in the breeze were strange, with slender trucks and huge leaves. The salty air was tainted with the smell of exotic flowers and fruits. The only birds that could be properly identified were the wailing gulls, circling overhead, hoping to scavenge the flesh of the crew or the remains of the ship’s cargo.

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Down the beach and hidden behind a great outcropping of stone was the Revenge. She had suffered worse then the Sea Breeze during the storm, having smashed her side against a reef and been split in two. The broken halves of the pirate ship lay on sand. The bow was on it’s port and the stern was on it’s starboard. The only crew who could be seen were dead, their bodies either being picked over by the crabs and gulls or bloating in the hot, mid morning sun. The rest were missing.

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Away to the west, north and south, seven of the greatest Sun Sisters and seven of the greatest Moon Daughters, the priestesses of the Lythari were found dead by the lesser acolytes. By some coincidence, their combined prayers for aid, had summoned the storm (which none of the them knew of) and it had fed on their life forces, dragging the first humans it found across the great Ameroth ocean.