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Snippet #2670242

located in The Seven Seas, a part of Making Waves, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Seven Seas

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nathaniel 'Black Nate' Sellars Character Portrait: Renata "Ren" Thompson Character Portrait: 'Smiling' Carmichael Carrington
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The Acheron swung around, and with a loud thud came against the starboard side of the Illustrious. The ships bounced apart, and the gunners of the Acheron blazed again, close enough to see the faces of the crewmen on the lower decks of the Illustrious through the gun ports. Heavy round shot and lighter canister swept the flank of the Navy ship, wreaking even more destruction. Splinters flew and ropes twitched in the air as they were hit by shrapnel and bullets. The sails of the Illustrious hung limp, their ropes gone, and the few Royal Marines left in the tops frantically fired down at the Acheron, the sharp crack of their muskets barely heard amongst the thunder of the great guns.

Blood pouring down his face from the gash in his cheek, Nate kicked open the weapons locker on the fos’cle, pulling out a nasty looking tomahawk. “No pity! No mercy!” He shouted as he strode to the rail, which now laid up against the poop of the Illustrious. “Deck guns clear the breach!” Nate yelled, and was immediately rewarded with the lighter boom of the smaller cannons on the fos’cle and quarterdeck. Loaded with canister they swept the deck of the Illustrious clear, filling the air with musket balls and red mist.

With a roar Nate pulled himself up a dangling piece of rigging, grabbing hold to the side of the Illustrious with his other hand. His move signaled to the Acherons, who surged forwards onto the enemy ship. On his way up Nathaniel glanced through one of the shattered windows and into the captain’s cabin. Fine furniture, ornaments and bits of debris were scattered across the floor. In amongst the detritus and broken glass he spotted what looked like a brass sextant, and even in his heightened state of battle rhythm he made a mental note to claim it as soon as possible.

Reaching up to the rail of the Illustrious’ poop deck, a bayonet whipped past Nate’s head, scoring a line down his back and tearing the shoulder of his coat. His eyes widening in shocked fury Nate grabbed the musket the bayonet was attached to and yanked as hard as he could. The marine who had been holding the musket plunged forwards over the rail, meeting Nate’s eyes for a fleeting second before he fell between the frigates with a splash. Gritting his teeth Nate pulled himself over the rail, immediately followed by others of the Acheron’s crew. Down on the gun deck he could see Ren and other men from the Acheron laying about what was left of the Illustrious’ gunners. Carrington was among them as well, and Nate was delighted to see the sailing master flashing a maniacal grin as he slashed and stabbed all around him.

In a few split seconds Nate took in the scene of devastation that had once been the ordered deck of a Royal Navy frigate. Even though she was raked from the prow instead of the stern, and was protected by the thick wood there, the Illustrious had been badly mauled. The gun deck was awash with blood. Racks of spare shot had been tipped over and broken. Some guns had been thrown from their carriages and threatened to break through the side of the ship with every roll of the waves. Some dead crewmen lay about or slouched over guns, some wounded, yet to be taken away, moaned and cried where they had fallen. The men who remained on their feet were shaken, powder stained, and totally unprepared for the ferocity of the men from the Acheron. They had been humiliated, they had been beaten, but now they would take their revenge.

The canister shot from the deck guns had blown away whatever concentrated resistance the men of the Acheron might have faced, so they fell about the crew of the Illustrious like wolves among sheep. They roared and shrieked like demons and cut down anything in their path, swarming below-decks to secure whatever loot they could. Acheron!” They roared over and over. Acheron!” Some of the navy men tried to surrender, but the pirates of Black Nate were in no mood for mercy. A couple leapt over the side, swimming desperately to try and reach the Endeavour. Those Nate could let go. They were of no consequence.

Coming back to what was directly in front of him, Nate locked eyes with the captain of the Illustrious, captain Fotheringay. Nate fixed him with a glare of malevolent intensity as the naval captain crouched by the wheel. He took a step forwards but was forced to duck as a great axe soared over where his head would have been. Snarling like an animal Nate turned to face his opponent, a giant marine sergeant in a torn and bloody red coat. Nate drew his sword and held it in his right hand, the tomahawk in his left. He was about to strike when a man landed on the marine hard. Both were driven to the deck and the one on top was furiously stabbing at the marine with a stiletto blade.

“Mr. Peters,” Nate roared. “Get in my way again and I’ll kill you myself!” He couldn’t help but let a little of the grin of pride show on his face, before he set back to the stonewall expression of hatred he always wore in battle. “Now get back to it Mr. Peters!”

“Aye sir!” Peters shouted and dove back into combat, grappling with another seaman near the steps to the gangway.

Slashing out left and right Nathaniel carved his way over to the wheel, kicking a wounded seaman out of his way and splitting a marine’s skull when he tried to check his advance. By the wheel Nate found Fotheringay again. The man was shivering, his sword held limply and shaking like a leaf. Nate could not stop himself from laughing and very nearly bent over double as other crewmen from the Acheron, their opponents finished, turned to see what was bringing out the rare sound of their captain’s laughter. Fotheringay, now surrounded by dangerously laughing and blood spattered pirates dropped his sword with a clatter and raised his arms.

“I….I… I surrender sir. I surrender.” He stammered, withering under Nate’s gaze.

“Captain Fotheringay,” Nate spoke, filling his voice with venom and drawing himself up to his full height. “You scratched my ship.” The level of animosity in the statement made Fotheringay’s knees shake. “Mr. Carrington,” Nathaniel called. “String this miserable excuse for a captain up by his ankles to the yardarm.” As he spoke Nate pushed Fotheringay’s chin up with the bloodied blade of his tomahawk, before letting him drop and turning to flash a quick smile at Carrington as he stepped towards the rail to look down onto the gundeck.

As he walked a creaking and cracking noise filled the air. With a groan the mainmast of the Endeavour leant over, then with a horrendous tearing noise collapsed into the sea. The great sprawl of sail and rope came crashing down, the few men who were up there plummeting into the sea, or bouncing off the deck. The flames that Nathaniel had noticed on that ship suddenly flared up. Once again, time was against them.

Leaning over the rail and seeing that most of the crew of the Illustrious had been killed or herded together by the men of the Acheron in the belly of the ship, Nate shouted to Ren. “Miss Thompson! Take a prize crew of fifty and get the Illustrious on the move as quickly as humanly possible! We do not want to be anywhere near that,” he pointed to the Endeavour, “when she goes up.” Turning away from the rail Nate sheathed his sword. “All hands back to the Acheron! Make sail as fast as she can go!” With that he strode to the side and hopped down to the poop deck of the Acheron. One captured. One destroyed. Not a bad start for a half fresh crew.