Introduction
Once again, the countries of Mersia are plunged into bloody conflict. For two years, the kingdoms and so-called republics have watched as the revolution in Tordard has sown terror and death across the mighty nation. With their own fears rising, the kings protested the executions of the Tordardian nobility, to which the Revolutionary Government paid no heed. Then King Louis IX was hanged after a rather short trial, for his crimes against the people of Tordard.
When the news reached King Charles II of Crebel, he promptly declared war, ordering that his army to muster and his navy to harass any shipping along the Tordard coast. When the declaration reached the Revolutionary Government, They declared war on Schunno, the kingdom on their southern border and the traditional ally of Crebel. As the National Guard marched south, a letter from the king of Elmdelem arrived at the Tordardian capital city of Tinzon.
King George demanded that the wife and children of the late King Louis be delivered into his keeping. The revolutionaries interrupted this as a plot by the Elms, to see their government overthrown when Louis X came of age. The demand was refused and war was declared against both Elmdelem and their traditional ally, the Republic of Rilnyi. Several new regiments of the National Guard were conscripted and ordered north.
An uneasy alliance was created between Elmdelem and Crebel. The tension was cause both by a history between the two great powers of going to war with each other and the fact that Crebalian Navy ships were still taking Elmsmen merchants off the Tordardian coast as legal prizes. As general war breaks out across the land, each nation seeks ways to drawn the neutral nations into the conflict on their side.
In an effort to enlisted the Ulsttorish in their cause, the Elms have gifted their neighbor two breeding pairs of wild Gryphons and a dozen eggs. The only catch, the United Clans of Ulsttor have to send their own ship down to the Vor city state of Omilia, which is located on the far southern tip of the Mersian continent to pick them up, along with a pair of Gryphon Riders from the Elm Aircore. Because what few warships the Ulsttorish Navy possess are tried up protecting the coast, the Clanlords are forced to hire a merchantman to get the gift.
Alright, so the plot of the game is going to run a little something like this:
In an attempt to avoid the troubles in the Inner Sea, the merchantman will attempt to sail around Crebel and Elmdelem. During this voyage, the ship will be forced off the trade route and caught in a freak (or unnatural) storm and get wrecked. After the storm passes, the passengers and crew get their first look around and realize that they’re not on the Mersian continent anymore.
While attempting to survive and get home, they get caught up in another war.
The World
The known world of Aresia is made up of the continent of Mersia. There are three islands and then the continent proper. Then known nations stop at a pair of mountain ranges, the Foothill Mountains and then The Wall mountain range. The Wall mountain range is near impassable and has a massive desert on the eastern side. The desert continue for hundred of leagues and ends before the lush, isolated Eastern Nations. A small number of merchants (mostly from Delen and Vors) make the rather dangerous voyage for the rare goods found there. The merchants only get to visit one small port and learn nothing about the Eastern Nations. The technology and culture of the Western nations is roughly about the same as Earth in the late 1700s/early 1800s.
Far to the south, is a second, unmapped and unnamed continent. Several trade posts have been established along the northern coast, along for the merchants to batter with the dark skinned natives for things like ivory, animal pelts and gold.
Across the Ameroth Ocean lies the unknown continent of Bloosia. Five hundred miles inland from the eastern coast a tall mountain range, called the Ahuaxpitzatzins, raises in a rough oval, filled with passes and tunnels leaded to the lands beyond. The whole of the continent is steamy and lush rainforest, filled with exotic animals and human-like beings. Scattered around both the northern and southern tips of Bloosia are rather large groups of small islands. The lands across the western face of the central mountains are uninhabited for some reason. Any attempt to settle there is met with failure.
Races
Human
The human population of the Known World is Caucasian (ranging from pale skin tones and light hair in the north to the more olive completions and dark hair of the south). Most of the ten nations have strong similarities with European counties on a basic level.
Elmdelem is equal to England
Delen is equal to Holland
Vors is equal to Italy
Crebel is equal to Spain
Tordard is equal to France
Schunno is equal to Austria
Rilnyi is equal to Hanover
Addmor is equal to Belgium
Swiden is equal to Switzerland
Ulsttor is equal to Ireland/Scotland
Lythari
The Lythari are a race of humanoid beings, much like some descriptions of elves, which are the native people of Bloosia. An average Lythari would match an average human in height and could very well pass as a human, if it wasn’t for the elongated ears (that can reach almost half a foot long), which end in a rounded point. Their skin tones are darker then the Mersians but lighter then those of the southern continent. Nearly ever member of this race has black hair save for a small percentage that are graced with either golden or platinum blond coloration.
The Lythari have five levels of society. On the top are the nobility, followed the priestess, then the warriors, the commons and finally the slaves. To be a noble or a priestess, one must be born into that caste, although its more a thing of luck or fate to join the ranks of the priestess. It should be noted that women rule Lythari society. This is caused from a low birthrate of males and an even lower survival rate among those male babies. With this lack of males, they are given the least dangerous jobs, leaving the warrior and ruler castes to the women. The Lytharians do not marry. The men live in walled compounds near the village or city temples, where they can be best protected and are visited by woman seeking a child.
The various tribes might worship different gods but always have either the sun or the moon at the greatest of all deities. This has caused a distinct split between the Lythari, leaving an empire dedicated to the sun within the Ahuaxpitzatzins and an alliance of moon worshiping monarchies, ruled by queens, living near the coast. No matter which nation though, any Lytherian lucky enough to be born with blonde (golden for the those that worship the gun and platinum for the moon) hair become priestesses. In both religions, the great celestial bodies require blood sacrifice to keep giving life to the planet. Both the Alliance and the Empire send nearly daily raids across the Ahuaxpitzatzins to capture slaves and sacrifices.
The Lythari do not know of iron, bronze or copper. The only metals they work are gold or silver, which are used for jewelry or ornamental bowls and cups. Their knives, spears and swords are made from obsidian. Their armor is made from cotton and is often covered in feathers or animal skins.
Creatures
Sea Serpent: large snake-like reptiles with dragon like heads and scales. Most rarely grow larger then sixteen feet but some of the deep-water species can grow large enough for four of the reptiles to threaten whales. Most are even tempered and can been seen around coastal villages and following ships. They eat scraps thrown into the water or hunt for fish and crustaceans. The large ones are uncommon and mostly seen as young serpents. The teeth and scales of the large deep-water ones are prized. It is not uncommon to see sea serpents forming “hunting pack”.
Found in all waters, be they ocean, lake or stream
Gryphon: One of the stranger creatures in the world, a gryphon appears at first to be the bastard offspring from a lion mating with an eagle or maybe the rear half of a lion attached to the front half of an eagle. Whichever way it seems more plausible, a Gryphon has the forelegs and talons of an eagle, a lion's hindquarters. Its eagle's head has very prominent ears, much like a horse’s but feathered. Their tails are also an oddity, it appears that they have both a lions and an eagle’s tail, with the lion’s tail sticking out of the middle of an eagles.
Gryphon’s are common to the continent of Mersia and are somewhat domesticated by humans. Most nations have either an Air Cavalry or Aircore made up of gryphon riders armed and dressed like hussars or light dragoons, save for the shako. Some male gryphons can be temperamental and will only let women ride them, so most Aircores have women riders. While the tamed gryphon’s will mate and produce young, most nations hire trappers to capture and break wild ones to enhance their bloodlines or steal their eggs.
There are no Gryphons on Bloosia.
Itzcoatl
The Itzcoatl are large bipedal reptiles, with long whip-like tails. Most stand on average six feet high at the shoulder and can be as long as twenty-four feet, from nose to tail tip. Their feet have two toes and a large, curved claw on the inner part of the foot. They have a leathery skin, which is mottled green, brown and black. Both males and females have feathers, located in a crest on the back of the head and a patch on the end of the tail. Where the females have dull, brown feathers, the males will have brightly colored ones, chiefly in reds or yellows.
Itzcoatl are used much like the horse is back in Mersia, as beasts ridden with a reins and saddle. The bit for the reins has to be made of stone as the beast’s sharp and bone-crushing teeth will cut through leather easily. The Lythari will ride the to battle but will dismount to fight, has a general rule. However, of late as the Empire sends more and more warriors in raids that penetrate deeply into Alliance territory, Alliance warriors are forced to chase them down and do combats while mounted.
Huemac
Huemacs are large, quadruped reptiles, with thick bodies and legs but a tiny head set on a short, thick neck. Theses lumbering beasts had grow to forty feet long and weigh close to eight tones. At the shoulder, they can to be eight feet tall. Like the Itzcoatl, they have leathery skin but it is normally an ugly shade of greenish gray.
The Lythari use them as beasts of burden, setting a saddle across the shoulders and then tying baskets of trade goods or tribute down the beasts back. The creatures will walk in a straight line if the handlers let them, no matter what’s in the way. They have been known to smash into trees and walls. To get the beasts to make a change in direction, the handlers will smack the Huemacs on the opposite side of the head.
When the news reached King Charles II of Crebel, he promptly declared war, ordering that his army to muster and his navy to harass any shipping along the Tordard coast. When the declaration reached the Revolutionary Government, They declared war on Schunno, the kingdom on their southern border and the traditional ally of Crebel. As the National Guard marched south, a letter from the king of Elmdelem arrived at the Tordardian capital city of Tinzon.
King George demanded that the wife and children of the late King Louis be delivered into his keeping. The revolutionaries interrupted this as a plot by the Elms, to see their government overthrown when Louis X came of age. The demand was refused and war was declared against both Elmdelem and their traditional ally, the Republic of Rilnyi. Several new regiments of the National Guard were conscripted and ordered north.
An uneasy alliance was created between Elmdelem and Crebel. The tension was cause both by a history between the two great powers of going to war with each other and the fact that Crebalian Navy ships were still taking Elmsmen merchants off the Tordardian coast as legal prizes. As general war breaks out across the land, each nation seeks ways to drawn the neutral nations into the conflict on their side.
In an effort to enlisted the Ulsttorish in their cause, the Elms have gifted their neighbor two breeding pairs of wild Gryphons and a dozen eggs. The only catch, the United Clans of Ulsttor have to send their own ship down to the Vor city state of Omilia, which is located on the far southern tip of the Mersian continent to pick them up, along with a pair of Gryphon Riders from the Elm Aircore. Because what few warships the Ulsttorish Navy possess are tried up protecting the coast, the Clanlords are forced to hire a merchantman to get the gift.
Alright, so the plot of the game is going to run a little something like this:
In an attempt to avoid the troubles in the Inner Sea, the merchantman will attempt to sail around Crebel and Elmdelem. During this voyage, the ship will be forced off the trade route and caught in a freak (or unnatural) storm and get wrecked. After the storm passes, the passengers and crew get their first look around and realize that they’re not on the Mersian continent anymore.
While attempting to survive and get home, they get caught up in another war.
The World
The known world of Aresia is made up of the continent of Mersia. There are three islands and then the continent proper. Then known nations stop at a pair of mountain ranges, the Foothill Mountains and then The Wall mountain range. The Wall mountain range is near impassable and has a massive desert on the eastern side. The desert continue for hundred of leagues and ends before the lush, isolated Eastern Nations. A small number of merchants (mostly from Delen and Vors) make the rather dangerous voyage for the rare goods found there. The merchants only get to visit one small port and learn nothing about the Eastern Nations. The technology and culture of the Western nations is roughly about the same as Earth in the late 1700s/early 1800s.
Far to the south, is a second, unmapped and unnamed continent. Several trade posts have been established along the northern coast, along for the merchants to batter with the dark skinned natives for things like ivory, animal pelts and gold.
Across the Ameroth Ocean lies the unknown continent of Bloosia. Five hundred miles inland from the eastern coast a tall mountain range, called the Ahuaxpitzatzins, raises in a rough oval, filled with passes and tunnels leaded to the lands beyond. The whole of the continent is steamy and lush rainforest, filled with exotic animals and human-like beings. Scattered around both the northern and southern tips of Bloosia are rather large groups of small islands. The lands across the western face of the central mountains are uninhabited for some reason. Any attempt to settle there is met with failure.
Races
Human
The human population of the Known World is Caucasian (ranging from pale skin tones and light hair in the north to the more olive completions and dark hair of the south). Most of the ten nations have strong similarities with European counties on a basic level.
Elmdelem is equal to England
Delen is equal to Holland
Vors is equal to Italy
Crebel is equal to Spain
Tordard is equal to France
Schunno is equal to Austria
Rilnyi is equal to Hanover
Addmor is equal to Belgium
Swiden is equal to Switzerland
Ulsttor is equal to Ireland/Scotland
Lythari
The Lythari are a race of humanoid beings, much like some descriptions of elves, which are the native people of Bloosia. An average Lythari would match an average human in height and could very well pass as a human, if it wasn’t for the elongated ears (that can reach almost half a foot long), which end in a rounded point. Their skin tones are darker then the Mersians but lighter then those of the southern continent. Nearly ever member of this race has black hair save for a small percentage that are graced with either golden or platinum blond coloration.
The Lythari have five levels of society. On the top are the nobility, followed the priestess, then the warriors, the commons and finally the slaves. To be a noble or a priestess, one must be born into that caste, although its more a thing of luck or fate to join the ranks of the priestess. It should be noted that women rule Lythari society. This is caused from a low birthrate of males and an even lower survival rate among those male babies. With this lack of males, they are given the least dangerous jobs, leaving the warrior and ruler castes to the women. The Lytharians do not marry. The men live in walled compounds near the village or city temples, where they can be best protected and are visited by woman seeking a child.
The various tribes might worship different gods but always have either the sun or the moon at the greatest of all deities. This has caused a distinct split between the Lythari, leaving an empire dedicated to the sun within the Ahuaxpitzatzins and an alliance of moon worshiping monarchies, ruled by queens, living near the coast. No matter which nation though, any Lytherian lucky enough to be born with blonde (golden for the those that worship the gun and platinum for the moon) hair become priestesses. In both religions, the great celestial bodies require blood sacrifice to keep giving life to the planet. Both the Alliance and the Empire send nearly daily raids across the Ahuaxpitzatzins to capture slaves and sacrifices.
The Lythari do not know of iron, bronze or copper. The only metals they work are gold or silver, which are used for jewelry or ornamental bowls and cups. Their knives, spears and swords are made from obsidian. Their armor is made from cotton and is often covered in feathers or animal skins.
Creatures
Sea Serpent: large snake-like reptiles with dragon like heads and scales. Most rarely grow larger then sixteen feet but some of the deep-water species can grow large enough for four of the reptiles to threaten whales. Most are even tempered and can been seen around coastal villages and following ships. They eat scraps thrown into the water or hunt for fish and crustaceans. The large ones are uncommon and mostly seen as young serpents. The teeth and scales of the large deep-water ones are prized. It is not uncommon to see sea serpents forming “hunting pack”.
Found in all waters, be they ocean, lake or stream
Gryphon: One of the stranger creatures in the world, a gryphon appears at first to be the bastard offspring from a lion mating with an eagle or maybe the rear half of a lion attached to the front half of an eagle. Whichever way it seems more plausible, a Gryphon has the forelegs and talons of an eagle, a lion's hindquarters. Its eagle's head has very prominent ears, much like a horse’s but feathered. Their tails are also an oddity, it appears that they have both a lions and an eagle’s tail, with the lion’s tail sticking out of the middle of an eagles.
Gryphon’s are common to the continent of Mersia and are somewhat domesticated by humans. Most nations have either an Air Cavalry or Aircore made up of gryphon riders armed and dressed like hussars or light dragoons, save for the shako. Some male gryphons can be temperamental and will only let women ride them, so most Aircores have women riders. While the tamed gryphon’s will mate and produce young, most nations hire trappers to capture and break wild ones to enhance their bloodlines or steal their eggs.
There are no Gryphons on Bloosia.
Itzcoatl
The Itzcoatl are large bipedal reptiles, with long whip-like tails. Most stand on average six feet high at the shoulder and can be as long as twenty-four feet, from nose to tail tip. Their feet have two toes and a large, curved claw on the inner part of the foot. They have a leathery skin, which is mottled green, brown and black. Both males and females have feathers, located in a crest on the back of the head and a patch on the end of the tail. Where the females have dull, brown feathers, the males will have brightly colored ones, chiefly in reds or yellows.
Itzcoatl are used much like the horse is back in Mersia, as beasts ridden with a reins and saddle. The bit for the reins has to be made of stone as the beast’s sharp and bone-crushing teeth will cut through leather easily. The Lythari will ride the to battle but will dismount to fight, has a general rule. However, of late as the Empire sends more and more warriors in raids that penetrate deeply into Alliance territory, Alliance warriors are forced to chase them down and do combats while mounted.
Huemac
Huemacs are large, quadruped reptiles, with thick bodies and legs but a tiny head set on a short, thick neck. Theses lumbering beasts had grow to forty feet long and weigh close to eight tones. At the shoulder, they can to be eight feet tall. Like the Itzcoatl, they have leathery skin but it is normally an ugly shade of greenish gray.
The Lythari use them as beasts of burden, setting a saddle across the shoulders and then tying baskets of trade goods or tribute down the beasts back. The creatures will walk in a straight line if the handlers let them, no matter what’s in the way. They have been known to smash into trees and walls. To get the beasts to make a change in direction, the handlers will smack the Huemacs on the opposite side of the head.
Reviews
30/30
Characterization: Advanced
Plot: Advanced
Depth: Advanced
Style: Advanced
Mechanics: Advanced
Overall: Advanced
Tiko wrote:This is a very well put together roleplay and had I the time for such things, I myself might have been interested in joining such a game. The characters are well designed and believable, and their personalities and characteristics are strongly drawn - so as to allow a reader to really differentiate them as individuals, and as people. And though I was initially confused as to what the plot would be following, due to information being provided for one war, with an implication that the story itself would be about a different war, as the RP began to unfold, it became apparent that the background information strongly helped to set the mood of both the characters and the world. Well done. Initially I was only going to rank it proficient with mechanics, due to a large number of spelling and grammar errors early on, but as it progressed it became apparent that they did not reflect on the over-all quality, and had merely slipped through proof-readings. All in all, I rank this a 30/30 and would recommend it to anyone interested in a story driven RPG of high quality.
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Captain Mor stared out at the mouth of Omilia harbor, where a small convoy of merchantmen and a few Crebalian warships, were sailing towards the trade route northward. A snort of disgust escaped the Ulsttorman, as he shook his head. The merchant captains where either naive enough to believe the claims of the Crebalians made about protecting them or were ready to accept the loses the navy ships would inflict on them. Once they were well out into the Inner Sea, the warships would run out their guns and demand that the merchants and passengers pay a toll for their protection. Then marine boarding parties would be sent to the merchantmen, with a naval officer and would search the ships for “Crebalian sailors” that had jump ship and then press them back into service.
Not that this was an unusual practice or something the most Holy Kingdom of Crebal was alone in doing. The Elmish Navy and any of the other powers currently in conflict with the Tordard Republic were doing the same thing. The Captain could see a squadron of Frigates waiting to enter the harbor, the red cross on a field of white and trimmed in red of Elmdelem flapping from their masts.
Admittedly, he had less to fear from the Elmish Navy then he did the Crebalian Navy. He was taking cargo meant to draw Ulsttor into an alliance with Elmdelem and into the war against Tordard. Of course that didn’t mean he was going to go looking for their protection or stick around for them to find out which vessel was his.
A ruckus chorus of protesting squawks interrupted Calder’s thoughts however. The small cargo of black powder and shot had been loaded earlier that day and the egg crates. Now that they were almost ready to sail north to Raerith, the only things left to do were to have the passengers board the Sea Breeze and load the Gryphons. The eagle-lions were making their discomfort known, as the cages they were in were lifted by crane and lowered into the hold.
He looked over at the dock, there the two tame Gryphons were placidly waiting. They were rigged up with leather harnesses, to that he could be loaded, when the two Elmish Aircore officers arrived. The Ulsttorish captain knew already, that his crew was going to be in a foul mood when they arrived in Ulsttor. No doubt those beasts were going to make enough noise to wake the dead each time the ship rolled.
Captain Mor turned his attention away from the loading of the cargo, straighten his frock and neckcloth, as he stared again at the harbor mouth. He planned on sailing around the western coasts of both Crebal and Elmdelem, before taking the Border Channel east to the capital of Ulsttor. It was almost as risky as sailing straight north through the Inner Sea. While he would be avoiding privateers and less-then honorable naval captains, the ship would have to weather the wrath of any deep ocean storm coming to store. There might also be pirates larking around the little islands dotting the coasts.
Not that this was an unusual practice or something the most Holy Kingdom of Crebal was alone in doing. The Elmish Navy and any of the other powers currently in conflict with the Tordard Republic were doing the same thing. The Captain could see a squadron of Frigates waiting to enter the harbor, the red cross on a field of white and trimmed in red of Elmdelem flapping from their masts.
Admittedly, he had less to fear from the Elmish Navy then he did the Crebalian Navy. He was taking cargo meant to draw Ulsttor into an alliance with Elmdelem and into the war against Tordard. Of course that didn’t mean he was going to go looking for their protection or stick around for them to find out which vessel was his.
A ruckus chorus of protesting squawks interrupted Calder’s thoughts however. The small cargo of black powder and shot had been loaded earlier that day and the egg crates. Now that they were almost ready to sail north to Raerith, the only things left to do were to have the passengers board the Sea Breeze and load the Gryphons. The eagle-lions were making their discomfort known, as the cages they were in were lifted by crane and lowered into the hold.
He looked over at the dock, there the two tame Gryphons were placidly waiting. They were rigged up with leather harnesses, to that he could be loaded, when the two Elmish Aircore officers arrived. The Ulsttorish captain knew already, that his crew was going to be in a foul mood when they arrived in Ulsttor. No doubt those beasts were going to make enough noise to wake the dead each time the ship rolled.
Captain Mor turned his attention away from the loading of the cargo, straighten his frock and neckcloth, as he stared again at the harbor mouth. He planned on sailing around the western coasts of both Crebal and Elmdelem, before taking the Border Channel east to the capital of Ulsttor. It was almost as risky as sailing straight north through the Inner Sea. While he would be avoiding privateers and less-then honorable naval captains, the ship would have to weather the wrath of any deep ocean storm coming to store. There might also be pirates larking around the little islands dotting the coasts.
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Margaret Thimbleton was quite pleased by the warmer weather she’d encountered at Omilia harbor. Perhaps she was simply starved for the warmer climate after the years spent living on her brother-in-law’s estate in northern Usttor, where the weather could be quite sever, and often aired on the chillier side. She’d also noted several more exotic goods she might suggest to Aaron they procure upon a return voyage. The fine fabrics she’d seen in particular she could see a profitable market for within their higher end shops. After all, Ladies of higher breeding almost always held one trait in common; snobbery. She’d noted that ladies of wealth were always looking to be the first to ware the latest fashions, and to many, it was an all consuming game. Maggie cared little about this, but knew catering to these obsessive women was extremely profitable.
The cargo today however, was of a completely different caliber. Gun powder and munitions were goods today, and while a far cry from exotic silks and perfumes, were just as profitable in days like these, especially when most signs pointed towards Usttar joining Elmdelem in an alliance in the war. Unfortunately, it appeared the Cameron Trading Company would be selling more black powder than luxury goods for a while. Maggie brooded upon that fact until she reached the ship she and her cargo had bought passage on. The Sea Breeze, a nice sturdy merchant vessel that, most importantly, already had more interesting cargo. Merchant vessels carrying powder and munitions were generally among the most commonly boarded and sunk by foreign vessels, especially in times of war, and Maggie wasn’t keen on the idea of loosing her cargo from any means.
And so Maggie boarded the Sea Breeze briskly, and spotted Captain Mor by his cleanliness, and the fact he wore the nicest clothing of the sailors up on deck.
“Captain Mor I presume? Margaret Thimbleton, pleased to meet your acquaintance. I expect you’re as anxious to begin this voyage as I am yes?” Maggie said pleasantly in a tone of introduction.
The cargo today however, was of a completely different caliber. Gun powder and munitions were goods today, and while a far cry from exotic silks and perfumes, were just as profitable in days like these, especially when most signs pointed towards Usttar joining Elmdelem in an alliance in the war. Unfortunately, it appeared the Cameron Trading Company would be selling more black powder than luxury goods for a while. Maggie brooded upon that fact until she reached the ship she and her cargo had bought passage on. The Sea Breeze, a nice sturdy merchant vessel that, most importantly, already had more interesting cargo. Merchant vessels carrying powder and munitions were generally among the most commonly boarded and sunk by foreign vessels, especially in times of war, and Maggie wasn’t keen on the idea of loosing her cargo from any means.
And so Maggie boarded the Sea Breeze briskly, and spotted Captain Mor by his cleanliness, and the fact he wore the nicest clothing of the sailors up on deck.
“Captain Mor I presume? Margaret Thimbleton, pleased to meet your acquaintance. I expect you’re as anxious to begin this voyage as I am yes?” Maggie said pleasantly in a tone of introduction.
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Indeed Captain Mor was right to feel he had little to fear from the Elmdelem warships, for it was less than a week ago that Lord Durkin had bought passage on the ships as they made their routine patrol run. Now he was striding confidently through the Omilia harbour towards the ship which would make him a small fortune. For although outwardly it would appear that he was paying much for nothing in return, the truth was that when Elmdelem triumphed with Ulsttor's help- and it would triumph- people would owe it all to his bold endeavour to seal the peace treaty in the first place. He would become a national hero, and reap the rewards accordingly.
The thought made him smile as he began to climb the gang plank onto the Sea Breeze, a fine ship in which to win glory from the look of her. Now it is important to note that, whilst many nobles would have brought a great many entirely unnecessary things in their ignorance and stupidity, he knew better. Rather than a massive trunk filled with useless and trivial items, Jeeves was quite able to carry the light pack, its only contents two changes of clothes for him and his manservant, and some spare change should the need arise.
Arriving on the deck, he glanced around and inwardly sighed. The most difficult part of the entire trip, it seemed, would be a complete lack of intelligent company. Still, at least if one of these plebs decided to steal from him he would have an easy time finding out which one, seeing as there was nowhere else to go with it. Looking around, he saw what must be the captain, and began to work his way over to him. He nodded to the two members of the Elm aircore as he passed, and they respectfully returned the gesture. He allowed the woman to finish her introduction before doffing his cap to her and replying "Nice to meet you ma'am.", then holding out his hand to the captain he added with a friendly smile, "Lord Phillip Holmes Durkin, call me PHD if you think it'll be too hard to remember.", he winked at the man afterwards to show he was only joking about the man's intelligence. After all, it wouldn't do to outwardly insult him and then mysteriously disappear on the voyage. Turning to his manservant, he continued "Jeeves, feel free to take that pack down to our quarters, and then you can have the day off. I doubt I'll require your help too much."
"Yes sir, thank you sir." The servant answered, running off to enjoy as much free time as possible.
The thought made him smile as he began to climb the gang plank onto the Sea Breeze, a fine ship in which to win glory from the look of her. Now it is important to note that, whilst many nobles would have brought a great many entirely unnecessary things in their ignorance and stupidity, he knew better. Rather than a massive trunk filled with useless and trivial items, Jeeves was quite able to carry the light pack, its only contents two changes of clothes for him and his manservant, and some spare change should the need arise.
Arriving on the deck, he glanced around and inwardly sighed. The most difficult part of the entire trip, it seemed, would be a complete lack of intelligent company. Still, at least if one of these plebs decided to steal from him he would have an easy time finding out which one, seeing as there was nowhere else to go with it. Looking around, he saw what must be the captain, and began to work his way over to him. He nodded to the two members of the Elm aircore as he passed, and they respectfully returned the gesture. He allowed the woman to finish her introduction before doffing his cap to her and replying "Nice to meet you ma'am.", then holding out his hand to the captain he added with a friendly smile, "Lord Phillip Holmes Durkin, call me PHD if you think it'll be too hard to remember.", he winked at the man afterwards to show he was only joking about the man's intelligence. After all, it wouldn't do to outwardly insult him and then mysteriously disappear on the voyage. Turning to his manservant, he continued "Jeeves, feel free to take that pack down to our quarters, and then you can have the day off. I doubt I'll require your help too much."
"Yes sir, thank you sir." The servant answered, running off to enjoy as much free time as possible.
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Whip rolled a few coffee beans in his mouth as he walked through town. The bitter taste was oddly comforting to him, and calmed him a tad. He had already seen three wanted posters with his face on them. He wasn't worried about the guards, but othe bounty-hunters whom wanted his head. Nonetheless, he pressed on towards the docks, eying up the ships that had been put at rest there. His eyes glanced across each one, before he found the ship that he was after. "Thes Seas Breezes, ehs?" He said, adding an 's' to the end of nearly every word as he normally did. "I suppose thats wheres Mr. Mors is. Mights wants to introduces mineselfs!" He said with a chuckle, walking to the loading plank, and walking up it, behind some worker sloth whom seemed to be wheeling in powder.
Once on deck, he was easily able to identify the man in charge..... Untill another man, equally well dressed as the first one come up. He couldn't hear his words. He shrugged, and walked up to the two, and the woman that had been standing there as well, offering a light bow. "Hellos, gentlemens. Which ones of yous is the Captains?"
Once on deck, he was easily able to identify the man in charge..... Untill another man, equally well dressed as the first one come up. He couldn't hear his words. He shrugged, and walked up to the two, and the woman that had been standing there as well, offering a light bow. "Hellos, gentlemens. Which ones of yous is the Captains?"
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“A pleasure Miss Thimbleton” said Calder, turning around to greet his fellow merchant. He considered himself to be lucky, having found someone with a small enough cargo, to fill his ship’s hold, along with the gryphons. Of course, he was being paid every well by the Clan Lords but he out to make his fortune. A little more gold always made his banker smile. It was always the same smile, that nearly everyone has, that speaks of a love of shinny, glittering things, like gold, silver and jewels. It was a little raven blood the human race had it in.
As the captain reached up and tipped his tricorn, he noticed his second passenger had made his way up to the quarterdeck and introduced himself as the Lord Phillip Holmes Durkin. Bring his hand down from his hat, the captain shook the lord’s offered hand briefly before his lordship turned back to his servant. Mor was a little rankled by the comment about his mental prowess but he wrote that off as typical lordish loutness. Maybe those inbreed Tordardians had the right idea, looping off the heads of the nobility.
He was about to turn back to watching the navel vessel patrolling for foolish merchants, when another man boarded his ship and marched up to the gathered company of traders. With a bow, the twigish fellow asked for the captain. There was something about the man’s face but the captain just couldn’t place it. Maybe he had seen the man in a tavern or on the docks before.
“I am Captain Mor” declared Calder, “Master of the Sea Breeze. Might I have your name sir? And your business?”
As the captain reached up and tipped his tricorn, he noticed his second passenger had made his way up to the quarterdeck and introduced himself as the Lord Phillip Holmes Durkin. Bring his hand down from his hat, the captain shook the lord’s offered hand briefly before his lordship turned back to his servant. Mor was a little rankled by the comment about his mental prowess but he wrote that off as typical lordish loutness. Maybe those inbreed Tordardians had the right idea, looping off the heads of the nobility.
He was about to turn back to watching the navel vessel patrolling for foolish merchants, when another man boarded his ship and marched up to the gathered company of traders. With a bow, the twigish fellow asked for the captain. There was something about the man’s face but the captain just couldn’t place it. Maybe he had seen the man in a tavern or on the docks before.
“I am Captain Mor” declared Calder, “Master of the Sea Breeze. Might I have your name sir? And your business?”
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The streets of Omilia were bustling but James hardly noticed. He'd left a small district office of United Vorsian Trading (Unito Vorsica Spedizione in its mother tongue), the only one currently in Ulsttor, and made his way on foot to the docks after ignoring the insistence of the district manager that he should call a hansom cab. He was deep in thought, considering how he could expand his company's interests in this wild wind-swept country. There must be a demand for more efficient local freight. The tall barren mountains that made up the spine of Ulsttor were nigh-on impassable with the poor state of the roads that snaked through their scant passes. A solution would be to increase shipping around the capes of the country, taking goods over sea rather than over land. Or perhaps they could offer to develop the road system in return for a contractual monopoly on government bulk transport through the mountains...
Suddenly James found he had arrived at the docks and he glared at the ships that bobbed gently in the harbour as if they were responsible for the interruption of his train of thought. One of them would be the ship he would be holed inside for the next few days whilst he pandered to a set of nations who seemed unable to steer away from war, even for their own good. And those few days were valuable to him and he was irritated by their waste, even if they would not be seen as a waste by a few pompous diplomats.
It did not take long to find The Sea Breeze. The squawks of two monstrous gryphons scratching impatiently at their cages carried across the harbour. James watched in momentary interest as they were slowly lowered onto the deck of the ship by a tall winch and a half-dozen sailors set about man-handling them down into the hold.
Hefting his bag (a leather trunk that was a constant companion on his to-ing and fro-ing between the two countries which seemed to have each claimed him for their own), he walked up the gang-plank onto the deck of the ship, stopping impatiently to show his papers to the dock official waiting at the bottom.
On deck, the presence of his uncle's manservant hurrying across the boards immediately informed him that the older man had arrived before he had. And there he was, his rich suit and hat making him stand out like a beacon amongst the practical waxed cloth and seal-skins of the sailors. He was accompanied by a woman, obviously not a member of the ship's crew and two men, who were. One of them was adorned with a black tricorn that suggested his standing as the captain. Nodding to acknowledge the woman's presence, he approached the little group.
"Captain Mor," he said, once the other man had finished talking to his companion, extending his hand. The ship, after all, was the captain's domain and he was ready to respect his authority. Provided it was built on a foundation of sense and integrity, of course, but only time would tell that. "I see you have already met my uncle; I'm James Viteri."
Suddenly James found he had arrived at the docks and he glared at the ships that bobbed gently in the harbour as if they were responsible for the interruption of his train of thought. One of them would be the ship he would be holed inside for the next few days whilst he pandered to a set of nations who seemed unable to steer away from war, even for their own good. And those few days were valuable to him and he was irritated by their waste, even if they would not be seen as a waste by a few pompous diplomats.
It did not take long to find The Sea Breeze. The squawks of two monstrous gryphons scratching impatiently at their cages carried across the harbour. James watched in momentary interest as they were slowly lowered onto the deck of the ship by a tall winch and a half-dozen sailors set about man-handling them down into the hold.
Hefting his bag (a leather trunk that was a constant companion on his to-ing and fro-ing between the two countries which seemed to have each claimed him for their own), he walked up the gang-plank onto the deck of the ship, stopping impatiently to show his papers to the dock official waiting at the bottom.
On deck, the presence of his uncle's manservant hurrying across the boards immediately informed him that the older man had arrived before he had. And there he was, his rich suit and hat making him stand out like a beacon amongst the practical waxed cloth and seal-skins of the sailors. He was accompanied by a woman, obviously not a member of the ship's crew and two men, who were. One of them was adorned with a black tricorn that suggested his standing as the captain. Nodding to acknowledge the woman's presence, he approached the little group.
"Captain Mor," he said, once the other man had finished talking to his companion, extending his hand. The ship, after all, was the captain's domain and he was ready to respect his authority. Provided it was built on a foundation of sense and integrity, of course, but only time would tell that. "I see you have already met my uncle; I'm James Viteri."
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Her eyes were watchful as she approached the berth of The Sea Breeze. Not out of any kind of fear, no, that was certainly not the case. No - her eyes roved ceaselessly out of a strong sense of curiosity and intrigue, the kind that had gotten her into trouble on countless occasions.
Keeping a wide berth between herself and the two gryphons, she had to admit, they had a fierce sort of beauty. It was ironic - the deadliest things were nearly always the most beautiful, be it a gryphon or a sword.
Looking up the boarding ramp, she saw the back of a man just disappearing as he stepped onto the deck. Ah - perhaps if she followed him, he'd lead her to the captain. It would save her the trouble of asking bothersome questions. Picking up her pace, she quick-marched up the gangplank, arriving at the top just as the man before her was finishing his introduction.
"And I am Nynette Rizuterri," she said, approaching the gathering. She nodded once in greeting to the man with the tricorn hat - the man she knew to be Captain Mor - before gesturing to the man she'd arrived just behind. "Of no connection to the signore here, though. I met you three days ago at the Emerald Taverna on Roseway Street, if you remember, Capitano."
Keeping a wide berth between herself and the two gryphons, she had to admit, they had a fierce sort of beauty. It was ironic - the deadliest things were nearly always the most beautiful, be it a gryphon or a sword.
Looking up the boarding ramp, she saw the back of a man just disappearing as he stepped onto the deck. Ah - perhaps if she followed him, he'd lead her to the captain. It would save her the trouble of asking bothersome questions. Picking up her pace, she quick-marched up the gangplank, arriving at the top just as the man before her was finishing his introduction.
"And I am Nynette Rizuterri," she said, approaching the gathering. She nodded once in greeting to the man with the tricorn hat - the man she knew to be Captain Mor - before gesturing to the man she'd arrived just behind. "Of no connection to the signore here, though. I met you three days ago at the Emerald Taverna on Roseway Street, if you remember, Capitano."
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Whip smirked, and offered yet another polite half-bow. "Ah. It is beings pleasures, Mr. Mors. I am... Bitt. Yes. That's whoms I am! Bitt Ordeson. I am a...bountys hunters. Ands I ams afters someones to takes me arounds the worlds. I only have remotes ideas where peoples ares. But I cannot travels ons foots. I needs to bes sailing. I've heards some abouts yours ship, Mor. I would be honored if yous would lets me travels withs yous." He said, turning his head away from all, before spitting the now bland, tasteless bean in his mouth into the water below. "Of course, I am's not expectings yous to dos this fors free. I wills gives yous...." He paused, scratching his chin scruff. "Fourtys percents of Bounties worths? Does sound like deals to yous?" He said, grinning.
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Calder looked at this…..Bitt for a long moment. It sounded like more like a scam to get free passage to Ulsttor then a serious offer on how to pay for a berth on his ship. Then again, he didn’t have much time to think about it. More new crew were coming aboard and soon the Aircore officers would be to and he could put out to sea once more. He could have one of his burly sailors shake the truth out of Bitt later, then either toss him to the serpents or put him to work in the rigging.
“Very well Bitt” said the captain, “I hope you don’t mind sleeping with the crew, as I have no cabins left to offer passengers.”
In a swift manner, ending his conversation with Mr. Bitt, Calder turned to the forth person that had come up to the quarterdeck. Shaking the offered hand, of the nephew of the main financer of the voyage. Now here was a man he could get along with, seeing as so far, there had been no comments about his mental capacity. If anything, this fellow would be invited to dine at his table, although he would be serving much humbler fare then what the youngster was surely used to.
“Welcome aboard Mr. Viteri” said Captain Mor, as one of the few woman he had hired appeared on deck. He normally didn’t sail with female crew. One or two made for problems and he could never collect enough to make it worth the headache the troubles woman shipmates caused. This voyage however, was different. He had woman passengers aboard and it was his belief that woman crew would put the mat ease while trap aboard a vessel full of sailors.
“I do remember you Nynette Rizuterri” he continued, “And I remember you signing the ship’s papers. Find yourself a hammock below decks and then get up into the rigging. We will be sailing shortly.”
Down on the docks, Major Griffith and Ensign Watkins helped a pair of plainly fearful sailors attach the cables to the leather harness of Eagle’s Cry, the Major’s gryphon. The great beast was calm and peaceful when compared with the screeching of wild gryphon’s had made as they were loaded aboard. Within a few minutes, the gryphon had been lifted board and lowered into the hold, with the airman clinging to the harness. He would have to be in the hold when the breast was unharnessed and lead into the stall that had been constructed for it. Several minutes later and Ensign Watkins and her gryphon, King, were aboard.
As the gryphon’s were getting settled, the mooring lines were being thrown off and the sails unfurled. The vast white sheets of canvas caught a northerly wind, as the Sea Breeze pulled away from the docks and sailed out of the harbor mouth. The hails from the Elmish frigates, offering protect, were ignored by captain and crew, save for one sailor who took it upon himself to wave his bare buttocks at them, much to the amusement of the mostly Ulsttorish crew.
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Eight days later
The northwestern coast of Crebel
“ANOTHER SAIL OFF THE STERN”
Captain Mor was torn, as he turned to look southward with his spyglass. He wish to do a number of things just then; strangle the lookout, curse his ill fortune, wished that he had turned about when the first sail had been spotted and curse his ill fortune again.
The sail the lookout had spotted joined a trio of other sails, all of whom where attached to different ships trailing along behind the Sea Breeze. It had started a day ago, with one ship following them. Calder was convinced they were pirates, whom he normally would have done battle with but at the time, he had believed that he could take any corsair that dared attack him and that he need to be careful with the cargo. Now there for four ships chasing him and despite the extra cannons and small arms he was carrying (there was a war on), he didn’t think he could win a fight with four pirate ships.
“God Damn Them” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the patched and dirty sails.
“Very well Bitt” said the captain, “I hope you don’t mind sleeping with the crew, as I have no cabins left to offer passengers.”
In a swift manner, ending his conversation with Mr. Bitt, Calder turned to the forth person that had come up to the quarterdeck. Shaking the offered hand, of the nephew of the main financer of the voyage. Now here was a man he could get along with, seeing as so far, there had been no comments about his mental capacity. If anything, this fellow would be invited to dine at his table, although he would be serving much humbler fare then what the youngster was surely used to.
“Welcome aboard Mr. Viteri” said Captain Mor, as one of the few woman he had hired appeared on deck. He normally didn’t sail with female crew. One or two made for problems and he could never collect enough to make it worth the headache the troubles woman shipmates caused. This voyage however, was different. He had woman passengers aboard and it was his belief that woman crew would put the mat ease while trap aboard a vessel full of sailors.
“I do remember you Nynette Rizuterri” he continued, “And I remember you signing the ship’s papers. Find yourself a hammock below decks and then get up into the rigging. We will be sailing shortly.”
Down on the docks, Major Griffith and Ensign Watkins helped a pair of plainly fearful sailors attach the cables to the leather harness of Eagle’s Cry, the Major’s gryphon. The great beast was calm and peaceful when compared with the screeching of wild gryphon’s had made as they were loaded aboard. Within a few minutes, the gryphon had been lifted board and lowered into the hold, with the airman clinging to the harness. He would have to be in the hold when the breast was unharnessed and lead into the stall that had been constructed for it. Several minutes later and Ensign Watkins and her gryphon, King, were aboard.
As the gryphon’s were getting settled, the mooring lines were being thrown off and the sails unfurled. The vast white sheets of canvas caught a northerly wind, as the Sea Breeze pulled away from the docks and sailed out of the harbor mouth. The hails from the Elmish frigates, offering protect, were ignored by captain and crew, save for one sailor who took it upon himself to wave his bare buttocks at them, much to the amusement of the mostly Ulsttorish crew.
-------------------------------------------
Eight days later
The northwestern coast of Crebel
“ANOTHER SAIL OFF THE STERN”
Captain Mor was torn, as he turned to look southward with his spyglass. He wish to do a number of things just then; strangle the lookout, curse his ill fortune, wished that he had turned about when the first sail had been spotted and curse his ill fortune again.
The sail the lookout had spotted joined a trio of other sails, all of whom where attached to different ships trailing along behind the Sea Breeze. It had started a day ago, with one ship following them. Calder was convinced they were pirates, whom he normally would have done battle with but at the time, he had believed that he could take any corsair that dared attack him and that he need to be careful with the cargo. Now there for four ships chasing him and despite the extra cannons and small arms he was carrying (there was a war on), he didn’t think he could win a fight with four pirate ships.
“God Damn Them” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the patched and dirty sails.
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For the last eight days, James Viteri had kept largely to himself. Much of his time had been spent with the paperwork he had brought with him to occupy himself on the long journey. But even that could only take up so many hours. He used the rest of it to gain a working knowledge of how the ship was run. Anything that worked fascinated him and he was intrigued by the system of command established on the ship, he wanted to know how the rotas were organised, how the sails were rigged and how their course was calculated. He knew well enough not to waste the sailors' valuable time by bombarding them with incessant questions (he would not have taken kindly to a tourist delving into the workings of his own company) and instead observed and struck up conversation only when it was convenient for the other. He spent time on deck, reading his book and occasionally watching the sailors change the aspect of the sail to catch a tailwind. He sat next to the navigator at dinner and his interest was rewarded with a chance to view the navigational charts. With the other passengers, however, James had had little to do.
He'd been on deck when the lookout had called out from the birds-nest on the top of the mast and he'd watched as, one by one, four white specks had appeared on the horizon.
"Not allied ships, I take it," said James, coming to stand beside the captain. "Tordardian?"
He was not afraid of those four dots on the horizon. In truth, he was angry; angry that their plan should be disrupted so soon, angry that he'd been persuaded to accompany the diplomatic cargo and angry that he should be drawn into this idiotic war in the process.
He'd been on deck when the lookout had called out from the birds-nest on the top of the mast and he'd watched as, one by one, four white specks had appeared on the horizon.
"Not allied ships, I take it," said James, coming to stand beside the captain. "Tordardian?"
He was not afraid of those four dots on the horizon. In truth, he was angry; angry that their plan should be disrupted so soon, angry that he'd been persuaded to accompany the diplomatic cargo and angry that he should be drawn into this idiotic war in the process.
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Nynette's ears perked at the lookout's call. She paused in the act of coiling a rope, her eyes straying to the stern. They flicked briefly to Captain Mor and the passenger - James Something . . . . - currently speaking to him, before returning to her task. Once finished, she hung the rope from a belaying pin before swinging nimbly up into the rigging.
Her eyes narrowed as she stared back at the four miniscule sails on the horizon. She exhaled in exasperation, the little puff of air causing her bangs to lift off her forehead. Perfetto.
"Capitano?" she called, not taking her eyes off the ships. "You are familiar with the coastline along this area, yes? Is there perhaps some port or small cove where we might hide the ship? Were we to disappear from sight, there is a chance they would pass us by."
She looked to her employer, dropping lightly back to the deck as she waited for an answer.
Her eyes narrowed as she stared back at the four miniscule sails on the horizon. She exhaled in exasperation, the little puff of air causing her bangs to lift off her forehead. Perfetto.
"Capitano?" she called, not taking her eyes off the ships. "You are familiar with the coastline along this area, yes? Is there perhaps some port or small cove where we might hide the ship? Were we to disappear from sight, there is a chance they would pass us by."
She looked to her employer, dropping lightly back to the deck as she waited for an answer.
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“I almost wish they were Mr. Viteri” said Calder, as he collapsed his glass, “Then all we would have to worry about is spending the rest of the war sitting in some prison. Or we would be released in Tordard, with no money, no cargo and no ship. However, I could see no flags and I’m sure their pirates. Any Tordardian vessel would have been flying the biggest tri-color they had by now.”
Below, Major Griffith paced back and forth in front of the pen, where Eagle’s Cry was become increasingly restless. The Aircoreman was in a foul temper. He had presented the captain of this stinking tub, with a most reasonable plan for him to fly off and see just who was giving chase. He had then been informed that he wouldn’t be allowed to, followed by a list of petty reasons. The deck wasn’t big enough, the beast would smash the spars or tangle the rigging, he wouldn’t be able to land and other such nonsense.
His mood wasn’t improved when he found Ensign Watkins, sleeping besides King. According to the given explanation, she had bet the biggest sailor aboard that she could out drink him and in the following contest, most of the crew had given up their daily ration of grog, so that a winner could be found. She wasn’t even sure if she had won.
----------------------------------
Captain Hawkins smiled, as his ship, the Revenge, joined the three of smaller vessels of his fleet. They had finally chased down some good prey.Over the past few weeks, they had only taken a sloops or schooners (which he had impressed into his service as a fleet), with small cargos. Now they had spotted a decent sized merchant, who’s Indasman was bigger then his own.
“Pegleg” shouted the pirate captain, “Get below and get the signal. Its time we snap up this prize.”
“Aye Captain!”
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“Nay sailor” continued Captain Mor, as Nynette landed on the deck, “Me normal route is through the Inner Sea, hugging…..”
The Ulsttorish man trailed off, as a pillar of darkish smoke raced skyward from one of the ships chasing them. As he (and nearly the every other member of the crew on deck) stared at it, knowing that the smoke was moving too fast to be a fire, the top of the pillar exploded with red light. Red fire rained down, fizzling out well before it reached the canvas of the suspected pirate ships. He continued to star, wondering what that had meant to do, when the sound of a second explosion, was heard from behind him, well in front of the Sea Breeze’s bow. Calder turned and to his horror, saw in the distance, a tri of sails appear from a cove before them.
“Damn them” spat the captain, gritting his teeth, “And to the Devil with them all.”
“Mister Kerr” shouted Mor, “Break out the small arms and load the cannons! We’ll show our teeth if they want to take us!”
“Aye Skipper” shouted the rather burly Duff Kerr, the ship’s second mate, as he turned to rush below.
As the crew started moving about the deck, as muskets, blunderbusses, pistols and cutlasses were carried up to them. Flasks of powder and pouches of lead balls followed, as did charges for the ship’s eighteen cannon. Captain Mor relieved the helmsman and turned the ship starboard, heading for the open ocean. He might still escape a battle, if all the pirates were aboard small coastal vessels.
Below, Major Griffith paced back and forth in front of the pen, where Eagle’s Cry was become increasingly restless. The Aircoreman was in a foul temper. He had presented the captain of this stinking tub, with a most reasonable plan for him to fly off and see just who was giving chase. He had then been informed that he wouldn’t be allowed to, followed by a list of petty reasons. The deck wasn’t big enough, the beast would smash the spars or tangle the rigging, he wouldn’t be able to land and other such nonsense.
His mood wasn’t improved when he found Ensign Watkins, sleeping besides King. According to the given explanation, she had bet the biggest sailor aboard that she could out drink him and in the following contest, most of the crew had given up their daily ration of grog, so that a winner could be found. She wasn’t even sure if she had won.
----------------------------------
Captain Hawkins smiled, as his ship, the Revenge, joined the three of smaller vessels of his fleet. They had finally chased down some good prey.Over the past few weeks, they had only taken a sloops or schooners (which he had impressed into his service as a fleet), with small cargos. Now they had spotted a decent sized merchant, who’s Indasman was bigger then his own.
“Pegleg” shouted the pirate captain, “Get below and get the signal. Its time we snap up this prize.”
“Aye Captain!”
------------------------------------
“Nay sailor” continued Captain Mor, as Nynette landed on the deck, “Me normal route is through the Inner Sea, hugging…..”
The Ulsttorish man trailed off, as a pillar of darkish smoke raced skyward from one of the ships chasing them. As he (and nearly the every other member of the crew on deck) stared at it, knowing that the smoke was moving too fast to be a fire, the top of the pillar exploded with red light. Red fire rained down, fizzling out well before it reached the canvas of the suspected pirate ships. He continued to star, wondering what that had meant to do, when the sound of a second explosion, was heard from behind him, well in front of the Sea Breeze’s bow. Calder turned and to his horror, saw in the distance, a tri of sails appear from a cove before them.
“Damn them” spat the captain, gritting his teeth, “And to the Devil with them all.”
“Mister Kerr” shouted Mor, “Break out the small arms and load the cannons! We’ll show our teeth if they want to take us!”
“Aye Skipper” shouted the rather burly Duff Kerr, the ship’s second mate, as he turned to rush below.
As the crew started moving about the deck, as muskets, blunderbusses, pistols and cutlasses were carried up to them. Flasks of powder and pouches of lead balls followed, as did charges for the ship’s eighteen cannon. Captain Mor relieved the helmsman and turned the ship starboard, heading for the open ocean. He might still escape a battle, if all the pirates were aboard small coastal vessels.
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“What in God’s name was that?” Maggie looked up from the journal she’d been writing in at the noise above that sounded like an explosion. Oddly enough, it wasn’t fear that trickled down her spine, it was excitement. Perhaps it would be different if she’d known that explosion had been aimed at them, and that they were being pursued by pirates and enemy ships, but at the moment she was simply glad that her boredom was momentarily relieved. A woman not pron to idleness, the last eight days had been hellish for Maggie, whom had little else to do but read and write in her cabin once she’d finished examining the ship.
Once the initial shock of the noise wore off, Maggie stuffed her journal in her shoulder bag before pulling out her spy glass, and her pistol; both of which had been procured at the market in Vors. Her brother-in-law had been wary of letting Maggie travel alone, insisting it was not safe for a woman to travel unaccompanied, but with another baby expected due within the month, he could hardly go himself. Maggie had initially resented his comment that more than suggested weakness, but had decided that it did perhaps hold some merit. Her solution however, was to purchase a means of defending herself. And so she had a pistol, along with some extra rounds and powder in her bag, though she’d never expected to need to use them.
Once on deck, Maggie saw chaos. Men running around to arm themselves, following orders from the captain, and most concerning, the ships on the horizon coming their way, with at least one frying the loathsome Tri-color of the Tordarian Navy.
“Blasted interfering baphoons!” Maggie swore under her breath. Perhaps it was her original nationality, but Maggie had not liked the Tordarians before the war, and she was much less fond of them now. Dashing to the rail, Maggie opened her spyglass first to look upon the Tri-color ship, then to the three on the horizon. No colors usually meant pirates, that much she knew, which didn’t bode well for their ship, as it was a merchant vessel carrying valuable goods. Not to mention being captured by pirates was a bloody and often unpredictable business. Depending on the type, they could all find themselves with slit throats, ransomed, or sold into slavery. None of which sounded particularly appealing. Suddenly, Maggie was quite glad she’d bought the gun.
Once the initial shock of the noise wore off, Maggie stuffed her journal in her shoulder bag before pulling out her spy glass, and her pistol; both of which had been procured at the market in Vors. Her brother-in-law had been wary of letting Maggie travel alone, insisting it was not safe for a woman to travel unaccompanied, but with another baby expected due within the month, he could hardly go himself. Maggie had initially resented his comment that more than suggested weakness, but had decided that it did perhaps hold some merit. Her solution however, was to purchase a means of defending herself. And so she had a pistol, along with some extra rounds and powder in her bag, though she’d never expected to need to use them.
Once on deck, Maggie saw chaos. Men running around to arm themselves, following orders from the captain, and most concerning, the ships on the horizon coming their way, with at least one frying the loathsome Tri-color of the Tordarian Navy.
“Blasted interfering baphoons!” Maggie swore under her breath. Perhaps it was her original nationality, but Maggie had not liked the Tordarians before the war, and she was much less fond of them now. Dashing to the rail, Maggie opened her spyglass first to look upon the Tri-color ship, then to the three on the horizon. No colors usually meant pirates, that much she knew, which didn’t bode well for their ship, as it was a merchant vessel carrying valuable goods. Not to mention being captured by pirates was a bloody and often unpredictable business. Depending on the type, they could all find themselves with slit throats, ransomed, or sold into slavery. None of which sounded particularly appealing. Suddenly, Maggie was quite glad she’d bought the gun.
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"Clean up this mess."
That was the order Lola was given, granted, it was so broad that it meant the girl would go above and beyond what was expected of her. Really the Captain probably would have been content with her removing the teeth from the table, a remnant of the brawl that had transpired the night before. Lola, however, was no content with this. No. Things were dirty, things were a mess, and it was her job to make things shine. Unfortunately, this was a pirate ship and there was no feasible way that the young woman could get it all done in just a day. She was already on the third wash rag, the other two being stained disgusting shades of brown and black, and was scrubbing vigorously at what she assumed were bloodstains on the floor.
Had she not been interrupted by the sound of footsteps (pegsteps?) coming down the stairs she'd have gone on in such a way for hours on end. Putting the rag back into the bucket Lola straightened up, resting her hands on her lap as she looked up at the Peg-legged pirate who seemed excited. This worried Lola somewhat, as usually when one of the crew looked excited it either meant she was going to get brutalized in some way or things were about to start exploding. Neither of the two options Lola found to be particularly pleasing seeing as she was usually left to make those exploding things go "boom".
"Lola!" He shouted, causing her to recoil backwards a little, her hands coming up to her chest. Lola wasn't a fan of shouting, or fast movement, or bad hygiene, or. . . .well, almost anything that could be found on the ship.
"Yes sir?" She squeaked out, attempting to twist her expression into one that wasn't of complete and utter worry. She preferred to do her job with some semblance of a smile as she was taught to do by previous owners though smiles were few and far in between on the Revenge. At least for Lola they were.
"I've got a job for you do." Lola could feel her heart sink a bit. Things were about to explode. Things were about to get horrible. Whenever someone other than the Captain had a job for her to do it usually meant the ship was being whisked away into a horrible world full of looting, injury, untidiness, and death. But, more importantly, untidiness.
A few minutes later Lola was standing next to Pegleg, rocket in hand(s) looking a bit faint as she smiled weakly. Out of having to shoot a gun, fire a canon, or send off a rocket, the third of the three was her least favorite. There was a lot that could go wrong and Lola certainly didn't want to lose a finger. Had it not been for the fact that she'd likely get beaten our chained up to the mast for insubordination she may have considered talking her way out of it.
"You know what to do Lola." Pegleg grumbled.
"I wish I didn't sir." She muttered under her breath. Lola tried to keep her hand steady as she lit the fuse for the rocket, and bolted as soon as she could and as fast as her legs could allow her. Lola didn't have much of an idea of what was about to go on, she didn't really care to know either. In many occasions ignorance really did prove to be bliss. If she was lucky no one would order her to be actively involved in whatever pirate escapades were about to transpire and she could hide in the Captain's quarters where she could hide and fold clothes.
That was the order Lola was given, granted, it was so broad that it meant the girl would go above and beyond what was expected of her. Really the Captain probably would have been content with her removing the teeth from the table, a remnant of the brawl that had transpired the night before. Lola, however, was no content with this. No. Things were dirty, things were a mess, and it was her job to make things shine. Unfortunately, this was a pirate ship and there was no feasible way that the young woman could get it all done in just a day. She was already on the third wash rag, the other two being stained disgusting shades of brown and black, and was scrubbing vigorously at what she assumed were bloodstains on the floor.
Had she not been interrupted by the sound of footsteps (pegsteps?) coming down the stairs she'd have gone on in such a way for hours on end. Putting the rag back into the bucket Lola straightened up, resting her hands on her lap as she looked up at the Peg-legged pirate who seemed excited. This worried Lola somewhat, as usually when one of the crew looked excited it either meant she was going to get brutalized in some way or things were about to start exploding. Neither of the two options Lola found to be particularly pleasing seeing as she was usually left to make those exploding things go "boom".
"Lola!" He shouted, causing her to recoil backwards a little, her hands coming up to her chest. Lola wasn't a fan of shouting, or fast movement, or bad hygiene, or. . . .well, almost anything that could be found on the ship.
"Yes sir?" She squeaked out, attempting to twist her expression into one that wasn't of complete and utter worry. She preferred to do her job with some semblance of a smile as she was taught to do by previous owners though smiles were few and far in between on the Revenge. At least for Lola they were.
"I've got a job for you do." Lola could feel her heart sink a bit. Things were about to explode. Things were about to get horrible. Whenever someone other than the Captain had a job for her to do it usually meant the ship was being whisked away into a horrible world full of looting, injury, untidiness, and death. But, more importantly, untidiness.
A few minutes later Lola was standing next to Pegleg, rocket in hand(s) looking a bit faint as she smiled weakly. Out of having to shoot a gun, fire a canon, or send off a rocket, the third of the three was her least favorite. There was a lot that could go wrong and Lola certainly didn't want to lose a finger. Had it not been for the fact that she'd likely get beaten our chained up to the mast for insubordination she may have considered talking her way out of it.
"You know what to do Lola." Pegleg grumbled.
"I wish I didn't sir." She muttered under her breath. Lola tried to keep her hand steady as she lit the fuse for the rocket, and bolted as soon as she could and as fast as her legs could allow her. Lola didn't have much of an idea of what was about to go on, she didn't really care to know either. In many occasions ignorance really did prove to be bliss. If she was lucky no one would order her to be actively involved in whatever pirate escapades were about to transpire and she could hide in the Captain's quarters where she could hide and fold clothes.
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James frowned at the captain's reply and remained looking out across the grey-blue waves to where those three flecks ominously remained ever-present on the horizon.
Suddenly there was the faint sound of squealing air and a flare shot out from the bow of one of the pursuing ships. A signal could only mean one thing and James span around, straining eyes unfamiliar with the barren expanse of the ocean to glimpse the pirates' ally. Sure enough, an answering flare lit up their deck with a red flicker even through the watery light of the sun overhead. Up ahead, the bows of three more ships edged out beyond the headland of the rocky shoreline they had been hugging for the last day or so. They were trapped.
Within seconds, the captain had bellowed out his instructions and the ship leapt into life as if sailors and trundling cannons had jumped straight out of the woodwork. To describe the deck as a hive of activity was to describe it perfectly; each sailor and cabin boy had their own steps to dance- heaving the guns, to the portholes, cleaning their barrels or fetching tinder and flint- and each performed them well, moving about and around each other effortlessly. It was a feat of discipline and had obviously been beaten into them by endless drills.
Knowing that he would be of little help by doing nothing (and less still by trying to help with the cannons), James turned and hurried down below deck to his own cabin. Missing Maggie by a second or two, he shut the door on the then-empty corridor and ducked inside his own cabin. He heaved out his trunk from beneath the narrow cot bed and opened it. It took a moment to rifle beneath his clothes to draw out the rosewood box he kept his pistol in. He removed it from its place unceremoniously and put it in the right hand pocket of his jacket, filling the other with ammunition.
He made it back onto deck to find his spot on the railing had been taken by one of the other passengers. A woman he knew to be called Margaret Timbleton squinted through an eyeglass whilst the sea-breeze caught her hair and whipped it up about her face. The ships her gaze was fixed upon had gained on them in the short time James had been below deck.
He was about to ask her if she could see anything of note when he caught sight of the contents of the bag she had slung over her shoulder.
"Do you even know how to load that?" he said, eyeing the pistol.
Suddenly there was the faint sound of squealing air and a flare shot out from the bow of one of the pursuing ships. A signal could only mean one thing and James span around, straining eyes unfamiliar with the barren expanse of the ocean to glimpse the pirates' ally. Sure enough, an answering flare lit up their deck with a red flicker even through the watery light of the sun overhead. Up ahead, the bows of three more ships edged out beyond the headland of the rocky shoreline they had been hugging for the last day or so. They were trapped.
Within seconds, the captain had bellowed out his instructions and the ship leapt into life as if sailors and trundling cannons had jumped straight out of the woodwork. To describe the deck as a hive of activity was to describe it perfectly; each sailor and cabin boy had their own steps to dance- heaving the guns, to the portholes, cleaning their barrels or fetching tinder and flint- and each performed them well, moving about and around each other effortlessly. It was a feat of discipline and had obviously been beaten into them by endless drills.
Knowing that he would be of little help by doing nothing (and less still by trying to help with the cannons), James turned and hurried down below deck to his own cabin. Missing Maggie by a second or two, he shut the door on the then-empty corridor and ducked inside his own cabin. He heaved out his trunk from beneath the narrow cot bed and opened it. It took a moment to rifle beneath his clothes to draw out the rosewood box he kept his pistol in. He removed it from its place unceremoniously and put it in the right hand pocket of his jacket, filling the other with ammunition.
He made it back onto deck to find his spot on the railing had been taken by one of the other passengers. A woman he knew to be called Margaret Timbleton squinted through an eyeglass whilst the sea-breeze caught her hair and whipped it up about her face. The ships her gaze was fixed upon had gained on them in the short time James had been below deck.
He was about to ask her if she could see anything of note when he caught sight of the contents of the bag she had slung over her shoulder.
"Do you even know how to load that?" he said, eyeing the pistol.
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"Do you even know how to load that?"
Maggie’s gaze was torn away from her spyglass to look upon the man she’d come to know on the ship as James Viteri, the infinitely wealthy businessman whose uncle’s snobbery seemed to know no end. She gazed down at the rifle in his hands and gave a slight snort. “Of course I know how to load it. I’m not in the habit of purchasing items I cannot use Mr. Viteri.” Maggie replied, insulted by his implication of incompetence.
“It would not be too much to expect that you Sir are a capable shot? It would be a shame to see you kidnapped and ransomed by pirates. I fear you could be waiting for months whilst Vors and Elmdelem fight for the honor of paying your ransom.” Maggie commented casually with the slight air of a jest as she turned her gaze back to her eye glass. On one of the Pirate ships she’d seen earlier, she saw a woman and a man. They were holding something with a lit fuse. It looked alarmingly like a handheld canon, and it was pointed at them.
“Oh bugger…”
Maggie’s gaze was torn away from her spyglass to look upon the man she’d come to know on the ship as James Viteri, the infinitely wealthy businessman whose uncle’s snobbery seemed to know no end. She gazed down at the rifle in his hands and gave a slight snort. “Of course I know how to load it. I’m not in the habit of purchasing items I cannot use Mr. Viteri.” Maggie replied, insulted by his implication of incompetence.
“It would not be too much to expect that you Sir are a capable shot? It would be a shame to see you kidnapped and ransomed by pirates. I fear you could be waiting for months whilst Vors and Elmdelem fight for the honor of paying your ransom.” Maggie commented casually with the slight air of a jest as she turned her gaze back to her eye glass. On one of the Pirate ships she’d seen earlier, she saw a woman and a man. They were holding something with a lit fuse. It looked alarmingly like a handheld canon, and it was pointed at them.
“Oh bugger…”
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Calder might have smiled, if he had looked away from the sea, to watch his crew ready his for battle. There was a good level of discipline to the near frantic preparations, as each of the ‘gun captains’ bellowed at their crews to loaded the guns. It was almost if the sailors armed with muskets for into squads, as old hands that had fought together gathered the newer sailors to them. Discipline for a merchantman, although almost any naval officer would have compared them with a mob of headless chickens.
Which was the very thought of Major Griffith, as he pushed his way through the crowded deck. His saber slapped against his thigh, when it wasn’t getting tangled in the legs, sashes and belts of the sailors around him. He had the carbine in his hands and was using the butt to force men from his path. The brace of pistols had been left behind, as they did not have the steel strip, which would allow them to be attached to a belt (which of course didn’t stop the sailors from tucked pistols into their belts) but rather had holsters build into the gryphon saddles.
“Captain” demanded Nicholas, “I must insist that you allow me to take my gryphon into the sky, as it is plain that they mean to give battle.”
“As I told ye afor” said Calder, soundly only slightly annoyed, “Ye’re beastie won’t clear the rigging and there be no way to get it up on deck. If ye hadn’t noticed, my lads had to hoist it aboard.”
“Captain” countered Nicholas, his tone icy, “I am an aviator, trained to fight in the skies. I need…”
“Ye need nothing” started the captain, firmly. “But ta help protect the ship.”
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“Capitán” called a voiced filled with disappointment, from the rigging of the Revenge, “She’s turning out to sea!”
Captain Hawkins stared up at the pirate in the mast and then turned to stare at his crew as a sigh of disappointment rippled through them. He didn’t understand, as he had only joined them about a year ago, with the handful of his crew (and his Lola), whom had survived the wreck of the Rover and were now scattered around his fleet as officer’s he could trust. The Crebalian pirate he had had never been aboard a large, sea going vessel but had spent their time sailing costal vessels. Their maps (and everyone else’s) had nothing about the ocean to the west, save for a warning; Here Be Monsters
“Well follow them” bellowed the pirate captain. His face was filled with fury, as the crew balked at his command. A snarl crossed his lips, as Hawkins pointed his dragon (which was a blunderbuss in pistol form) at the helmsman. With a great deal of reluctance, the Revenge broke away from the fleet of small pirate vessels, sailing out into the unexplored ocean, after the merchantman.
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“Well” said Calder, looking back over his shoulder and staring at the ship, which had dogged his out into the open ocean, “He’s a brave or stupid, that’s for sure. Lets see how far he’ll follow.”
The wind tugged at his hair and clothing, nearly tearing the black tricorn from the captain’s crown. The first raindrops began to fall, from the dark clouds, which had blown in suddenly from the west. Ahead was only darkness and churning waves of a mighty storm. The canvas in the rigging of the Sea Breeze creaked and strained against the spars. Kerr had already suggested lowering the sails, to prevent damage to both the canvas and the masts but Morr had ordered him not to. If they lost any speed, the pirate would be upon them.
Which was the very thought of Major Griffith, as he pushed his way through the crowded deck. His saber slapped against his thigh, when it wasn’t getting tangled in the legs, sashes and belts of the sailors around him. He had the carbine in his hands and was using the butt to force men from his path. The brace of pistols had been left behind, as they did not have the steel strip, which would allow them to be attached to a belt (which of course didn’t stop the sailors from tucked pistols into their belts) but rather had holsters build into the gryphon saddles.
“Captain” demanded Nicholas, “I must insist that you allow me to take my gryphon into the sky, as it is plain that they mean to give battle.”
“As I told ye afor” said Calder, soundly only slightly annoyed, “Ye’re beastie won’t clear the rigging and there be no way to get it up on deck. If ye hadn’t noticed, my lads had to hoist it aboard.”
“Captain” countered Nicholas, his tone icy, “I am an aviator, trained to fight in the skies. I need…”
“Ye need nothing” started the captain, firmly. “But ta help protect the ship.”
--------------------------------------
“Capitán” called a voiced filled with disappointment, from the rigging of the Revenge, “She’s turning out to sea!”
Captain Hawkins stared up at the pirate in the mast and then turned to stare at his crew as a sigh of disappointment rippled through them. He didn’t understand, as he had only joined them about a year ago, with the handful of his crew (and his Lola), whom had survived the wreck of the Rover and were now scattered around his fleet as officer’s he could trust. The Crebalian pirate he had had never been aboard a large, sea going vessel but had spent their time sailing costal vessels. Their maps (and everyone else’s) had nothing about the ocean to the west, save for a warning; Here Be Monsters
“Well follow them” bellowed the pirate captain. His face was filled with fury, as the crew balked at his command. A snarl crossed his lips, as Hawkins pointed his dragon (which was a blunderbuss in pistol form) at the helmsman. With a great deal of reluctance, the Revenge broke away from the fleet of small pirate vessels, sailing out into the unexplored ocean, after the merchantman.
--------------------------------------
“Well” said Calder, looking back over his shoulder and staring at the ship, which had dogged his out into the open ocean, “He’s a brave or stupid, that’s for sure. Lets see how far he’ll follow.”
The wind tugged at his hair and clothing, nearly tearing the black tricorn from the captain’s crown. The first raindrops began to fall, from the dark clouds, which had blown in suddenly from the west. Ahead was only darkness and churning waves of a mighty storm. The canvas in the rigging of the Sea Breeze creaked and strained against the spars. Kerr had already suggested lowering the sails, to prevent damage to both the canvas and the masts but Morr had ordered him not to. If they lost any speed, the pirate would be upon them.
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"I've never so much as aimed a pistol in my life," said James evenly, raising his voice over the breeze which was rapidly turning into a full-blown gale. "And I think that I would be able to pay my own ransom should the need arise."
As the rather unladylike words left Maggie's mouth, James directed his gaze back to the ships that were still giving chase in the distance. Over the din of the wind and the spray, something whined towards them like the drone of a high-pitched bee. It trailed a tail of smoke as it soared over the water with deceptive speed. He barely had time to pull Maggie out of the way once he had realised what it was.
With an all-consuming crack, the rocket punched its way through the carved oak railing where James and Maggie had been standing moments before and exploded when it hit the deck, bursting with light and a wave of heated air that picked James up off his feet and hurled him back onto the boards. Splinters and debris rained down as he automatically threw up his arm to shield them.
With his ears still ringing and the sounds of the crew and the sea oddly deadened, he gingerly picked himself up. His heart pounding, he surveyed the damage. Thankfully, the rocket had missed the mast and, from the state of the deck, only managed to tear up a few boards rather than making it through to the hull. Even now, the sailors were shaking the splinters from their hair and going back to their guns as if it had never happened. It seemed like only he was still reeling from the effects of the rocket that had so narrowly missed him.
And Miss Thimbleton- he'd almost forgotten about her. Hastily he turned around to check the rocket, or his violent avoidance of it, had done her no lasting harm.
As the rather unladylike words left Maggie's mouth, James directed his gaze back to the ships that were still giving chase in the distance. Over the din of the wind and the spray, something whined towards them like the drone of a high-pitched bee. It trailed a tail of smoke as it soared over the water with deceptive speed. He barely had time to pull Maggie out of the way once he had realised what it was.
With an all-consuming crack, the rocket punched its way through the carved oak railing where James and Maggie had been standing moments before and exploded when it hit the deck, bursting with light and a wave of heated air that picked James up off his feet and hurled him back onto the boards. Splinters and debris rained down as he automatically threw up his arm to shield them.
With his ears still ringing and the sounds of the crew and the sea oddly deadened, he gingerly picked himself up. His heart pounding, he surveyed the damage. Thankfully, the rocket had missed the mast and, from the state of the deck, only managed to tear up a few boards rather than making it through to the hull. Even now, the sailors were shaking the splinters from their hair and going back to their guns as if it had never happened. It seemed like only he was still reeling from the effects of the rocket that had so narrowly missed him.
And Miss Thimbleton- he'd almost forgotten about her. Hastily he turned around to check the rocket, or his violent avoidance of it, had done her no lasting harm.
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Baz OcHann had stayed to himself, seeing as he was a fugitive. He was wanted by every government on Mersia for the worst of any reason he could contemplate. Tordard wanted him for being an enemy combatant, Swiden wanted him for instigating rebellion, Elmdelem wanted him for pissing off Swiden, his own country of Schunno wanted him for being a traitor, and Crebel wanted him for simply having brought his manhunt to their borders. When he reached the docks in lawless Vors, he knew that his only hope was to escape to Ulsttor and live a frugal life as a farmer. He had known Ulsttorian mercenaries during the civil war in Schunno, and their descriptions of the land were simply majestic, painting a picture in Baz's head that had lasted since their fateful meeting. Now, it was up to Baz's own fortitude to reach the Farnorth and hope that he didn't have to slash his way through to happiness.
He had ignored the other passengers, the crew, and everything that seemed to be happening up above his cabin. He had confided in a book he had traded for in Vors and had not had the time to peruse, entitled "A Treatise on the Nature of Fencing, annotated with emphasis on Crebeli and Tordardian contrast, with illustrations". Baz's strong suit was not reading. He was so caught up in raising his father's farm and providing himself to the Schunno Loyalists that he had never been provided with a proper education, save for a former educator that served as his sergeant for a year. He understood the Schunnoan and Elmdelemish alphabets, but after his teacher was shot down, Baz never had any other way to read the books that the sergeant had with him. He did, however, understand the word 'Fencing', and along with this single word, the only way that he knew what the book was about was through the pictures inside. Surely, he would be able to learn something about fighting with swords that he hadn't learned in Schunno.
The book, on the outset, wasn't as helpful as he had thought it would be. It had large words with strange markings of alphabets he had never seen, as though it were using certain words of one language sprinkled into another. These special words were written at an angle to the other words, and lighter in tone and thickness of the ink. He mainly was concerned with the pictures, as the sentences began to form themselves as he understood visually what it was trying to explain. The first chapter or so covered an urge for mastering footwork, which Baz had never thought of before. It was such an essential component that it literally could decide the outcome of a duel, and Baz knew it.
He was contemplating the idea of stance, and the necessity of the rest of one's legs during a duel, when there was a loud crash above deck. It was a very familiar sound, like the report of a 20-pound cannon. It sounded deafening for those near it, and with his luck, it was either pirates or police, but police rarely opened fire without provocation. Baz considered going upstairs to see what the ruckus was, and to assess whether or not the ship was threatened, but he understood that there was a risk of someone noticing him if he made himself known. With his Lancaster handgun tucked beneath his armpit and his swordbelt buckled at his waist, he decided to march to the main deck and see things with his own eyes.
What he saw, however, was a gaping hole in the planks, made by nothing other than some type of explosive ordinance. Based on the ship behind them with pirate colors on their mast, the situation became very clear to him, although it was made more real by the stormy clouds to the front of the ship. Baz sighed at the tactic, more out of frustration of the knowledge of coming hardship, as though he knew there would surely be work in store for him that was unnecessary. As with any ship in any freak storm, they needed all the help they could get, and Baz was exactly the type they needed, lest the boat be lost to the sea. All he wanted to do was lay in a bed and read his book, not busy himself with a ship pursued by criminals. With grieved psyche burning, he leaned on the guardrail facing the pirate ship, watching them play their next move.
He had ignored the other passengers, the crew, and everything that seemed to be happening up above his cabin. He had confided in a book he had traded for in Vors and had not had the time to peruse, entitled "A Treatise on the Nature of Fencing, annotated with emphasis on Crebeli and Tordardian contrast, with illustrations". Baz's strong suit was not reading. He was so caught up in raising his father's farm and providing himself to the Schunno Loyalists that he had never been provided with a proper education, save for a former educator that served as his sergeant for a year. He understood the Schunnoan and Elmdelemish alphabets, but after his teacher was shot down, Baz never had any other way to read the books that the sergeant had with him. He did, however, understand the word 'Fencing', and along with this single word, the only way that he knew what the book was about was through the pictures inside. Surely, he would be able to learn something about fighting with swords that he hadn't learned in Schunno.
The book, on the outset, wasn't as helpful as he had thought it would be. It had large words with strange markings of alphabets he had never seen, as though it were using certain words of one language sprinkled into another. These special words were written at an angle to the other words, and lighter in tone and thickness of the ink. He mainly was concerned with the pictures, as the sentences began to form themselves as he understood visually what it was trying to explain. The first chapter or so covered an urge for mastering footwork, which Baz had never thought of before. It was such an essential component that it literally could decide the outcome of a duel, and Baz knew it.
He was contemplating the idea of stance, and the necessity of the rest of one's legs during a duel, when there was a loud crash above deck. It was a very familiar sound, like the report of a 20-pound cannon. It sounded deafening for those near it, and with his luck, it was either pirates or police, but police rarely opened fire without provocation. Baz considered going upstairs to see what the ruckus was, and to assess whether or not the ship was threatened, but he understood that there was a risk of someone noticing him if he made himself known. With his Lancaster handgun tucked beneath his armpit and his swordbelt buckled at his waist, he decided to march to the main deck and see things with his own eyes.
What he saw, however, was a gaping hole in the planks, made by nothing other than some type of explosive ordinance. Based on the ship behind them with pirate colors on their mast, the situation became very clear to him, although it was made more real by the stormy clouds to the front of the ship. Baz sighed at the tactic, more out of frustration of the knowledge of coming hardship, as though he knew there would surely be work in store for him that was unnecessary. As with any ship in any freak storm, they needed all the help they could get, and Baz was exactly the type they needed, lest the boat be lost to the sea. All he wanted to do was lay in a bed and read his book, not busy himself with a ship pursued by criminals. With grieved psyche burning, he leaned on the guardrail facing the pirate ship, watching them play their next move.
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James had barely managed to get himself and Maggie out of the way before the rocket hit, its impacts sending them both flying off their feet. Margaret’s landing had been no softer than James’ and her ears rung slightly from the sound. “That,” She said, wobbling a bit as she gently stood and pushed the hair that had come loose from her bun out of her face. “Was entirely more adventure than I signed up for. Good gracious, that thing nearly killed us.” Maggie said the last part as if more offended than frightened by the deadly flying projectile.
“You don’t suppose the Captain might have a convenient stash of those in the hold we could fire back?” She commented lightly to James, noting he seemed in a similarly unharmed condition. “Are you alright Mr. Viteri? You seem a bit rattled.” Maggie commented with a light smile, knowing well she was in no better condition.
“You don’t suppose the Captain might have a convenient stash of those in the hold we could fire back?” She commented lightly to James, noting he seemed in a similarly unharmed condition. “Are you alright Mr. Viteri? You seem a bit rattled.” Maggie commented with a light smile, knowing well she was in no better condition.
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“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.
------------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
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.
------------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
Setting
0.00 INK
The violent storm that ravaged the Sea Breeze was unlike anything Maggie had ever seen before in her life. As she was not a seaman, that was perhaps not an alarming statement, but she had seen the look upon the Captain and other crew’s faces; they had not either. The last thing she could remember before she awoke in her cabin, feeling distinctly stiff and nauseous, was the mad rush below deck, and the captain’s last resort instructions to stay below and pray. It was the most unbearable feeling to Maggie, knowing she had no control over her own fate at the moment, that all their survivals hinged on nothing but pure luck and chance, and yet, she could remember nothing of the hours in between that moment, and now.
Maggie rose stiffly from the floor, fitting the wave of nausea that ensued from her protesting body. Despite her spinning head, it was obvious the ship was not moving. She was only beginning to become accustomed to the constant rock of the ship, and noticed its absence almost immediately. Fumbling towards the window, letting her eyes adjust to the overly bright light, she looked out and saw a terrain that she could not place or recognize at all. That perhaps, put Maggie on edge more than the fact their ship was beached on the shore. Moving out of her cabin in a daze, Maggie set about looking for someone, anyone else whom had survived.
“Hello! Anyone, can you hear me?!” Maggie shouted out from the hallway, her voice somewhat hoarse, and she was disturbed by the fact she did not know why. Had she been screaming during the storm? It certainly felt like it. Her pace was slow, her body aching as she moved through the hall. There had to be others alive she assured herself, it was only logical that there would be.
Maggie rose stiffly from the floor, fitting the wave of nausea that ensued from her protesting body. Despite her spinning head, it was obvious the ship was not moving. She was only beginning to become accustomed to the constant rock of the ship, and noticed its absence almost immediately. Fumbling towards the window, letting her eyes adjust to the overly bright light, she looked out and saw a terrain that she could not place or recognize at all. That perhaps, put Maggie on edge more than the fact their ship was beached on the shore. Moving out of her cabin in a daze, Maggie set about looking for someone, anyone else whom had survived.
“Hello! Anyone, can you hear me?!” Maggie shouted out from the hallway, her voice somewhat hoarse, and she was disturbed by the fact she did not know why. Had she been screaming during the storm? It certainly felt like it. Her pace was slow, her body aching as she moved through the hall. There had to be others alive she assured herself, it was only logical that there would be.
Setting
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With any prospective battle between their ship and the pirates pursuing them delayed by the storm that seemed both to swell up from the tumultuous sea beneath them and the bruised and howling sky above them, James retreated, along with Maggie, beneath deck. The waves seemed impossible in size and the contents of the ship were shaken about as they tossed it to and fro like a toddler with a rattle. James barely made it half-way down the corridor before the ship rolled violently to one side. He threw out his hands to break his fall but he was too late- a beam caught his temple and everything flickered into darkness.
Then... light. James gradually became aware of the sensation of heat, the suns rays gently warming the back of his neck, already half-dried the sea-sodden jacket he still wore. Painfully- his head was agonising- he opened his eyes and stretched out his hand to dig his fingers into sand. Once the blue-white afterglow had died away, he could properly take in his surroundings. A beach, tropical from the whiteness of the shell-flecked sand and the unfamiliar vegetation that encroached upon it. Sky, aching blue with no sign of the storm that had torn it asunder just a few hours ago. And, as he slowly got up, put his hand to a blood-encrusted temple and turned around, the ship. It had broken almost entirely in two, exposing a cross-section of the corridor from which he must have been flung. Debris was scattered across the sand- barrels, netting, sail and worst of all, a body. Veined purple and buzzing with sand flies, the shell of a man was tangled awkwardly in a piece of rigging just a few yards away from James.
He looked away. He'd seen bodies before, but this was not the time to dwell. There might be survivors still. This was the only thing his mind seemed willing to focus on.
And yet, almost as soon as it had, there came a shout from beyond the rocks where the ship had lodged. Tearing off his jacket- torn and useless as it now was- James stumbled hastily towards the sound. When he rounded the outcrop, he came into view of its source. A woman peered out from the exposed innards of the ships.
"Miss Thimbleton!" he shouted, suddenly flooded with relief that he was not the only one still living. "Miss Thimbleton, are you alright?"
From behind a dense patch of stubby palms, a pair of bright brown eyes watched, blonde brows dipping into a frown.
Then... light. James gradually became aware of the sensation of heat, the suns rays gently warming the back of his neck, already half-dried the sea-sodden jacket he still wore. Painfully- his head was agonising- he opened his eyes and stretched out his hand to dig his fingers into sand. Once the blue-white afterglow had died away, he could properly take in his surroundings. A beach, tropical from the whiteness of the shell-flecked sand and the unfamiliar vegetation that encroached upon it. Sky, aching blue with no sign of the storm that had torn it asunder just a few hours ago. And, as he slowly got up, put his hand to a blood-encrusted temple and turned around, the ship. It had broken almost entirely in two, exposing a cross-section of the corridor from which he must have been flung. Debris was scattered across the sand- barrels, netting, sail and worst of all, a body. Veined purple and buzzing with sand flies, the shell of a man was tangled awkwardly in a piece of rigging just a few yards away from James.
He looked away. He'd seen bodies before, but this was not the time to dwell. There might be survivors still. This was the only thing his mind seemed willing to focus on.
And yet, almost as soon as it had, there came a shout from beyond the rocks where the ship had lodged. Tearing off his jacket- torn and useless as it now was- James stumbled hastily towards the sound. When he rounded the outcrop, he came into view of its source. A woman peered out from the exposed innards of the ships.
"Miss Thimbleton!" he shouted, suddenly flooded with relief that he was not the only one still living. "Miss Thimbleton, are you alright?"
From behind a dense patch of stubby palms, a pair of bright brown eyes watched, blonde brows dipping into a frown.
Setting
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"Miss Thimbleton!" he shouted, suddenly flooded with relief that he was not the only one still living. "Miss Thimbleton, are you alright?"
At first, Maggie had been startled by the sight of the ship in pieces, and it’s opened side, but now she was filled with utter relief to hear a familiar voice. The idea of being stuck in this exotic and alien place alone had been strong enough to incite an emotion close to panic, and Margaret Thimbleton was not a woman prone to panic.
“Mr. Viteri?” Maggie called down, seeing to figure of a man on the beach, and recognized her fellow passenger. “Oh thank heavens you’re alright.” Maggie said more quietly, running fingers in a nervous manner through the messy ruminants of her bun. It was a habit Maggie had thought she’d kicked years ago, but in light of current events, it was perhaps understandable.
“I do believe I’ll survive at least another day.” Maggie called down to James, noting her scraped hands and busted lower lip (probably from some sort of impact with the floor she still could not recall), but her injuries were quite minor. “I trust as you’re up and about you are well Mr. Viteri? Is there anyone else down there with you? I haven’t found anyone on the ship yet.”
At first, Maggie had been startled by the sight of the ship in pieces, and it’s opened side, but now she was filled with utter relief to hear a familiar voice. The idea of being stuck in this exotic and alien place alone had been strong enough to incite an emotion close to panic, and Margaret Thimbleton was not a woman prone to panic.
“Mr. Viteri?” Maggie called down, seeing to figure of a man on the beach, and recognized her fellow passenger. “Oh thank heavens you’re alright.” Maggie said more quietly, running fingers in a nervous manner through the messy ruminants of her bun. It was a habit Maggie had thought she’d kicked years ago, but in light of current events, it was perhaps understandable.
“I do believe I’ll survive at least another day.” Maggie called down to James, noting her scraped hands and busted lower lip (probably from some sort of impact with the floor she still could not recall), but her injuries were quite minor. “I trust as you’re up and about you are well Mr. Viteri? Is there anyone else down there with you? I haven’t found anyone on the ship yet.”
Setting
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Calder would never be sure, for how long he had pressed his back against the ship’s wheel, staring up into the flapping tatters. It could have been hours or minutes before the cries of the passengers reached his ears. Even then it didn’t have much of an effect, as the Ulsttorman continued to stared skywards, watched the clear blue sky. This all had to be a dream, he was sure of it. There wasn’t any land to the west, not that a ship could reach and seeing as he could only remember the storm and then waking up like a half drowned rat, the ship couldn’t have sailed for more then a week (or he’d be dead of a lack of food and drink), being on this alien shore wasn’t possible.
At last, Captain Morr stood up and stumbled over to the port railing. If this was some horrible nightmare, he damn well wasn’t going to listen to other people shout in it. He sucked in a breath, so that he could yell at the those poor souls that had wandered into his dream, when he looked down and saw the damage to the side of his beloved ship. His body had bruised and ached like the devil but the gaping wound in the Sea Breeze near stopped the sailor’s heart and it felt like his very soul had been ripped open. He let out an anguished cry and slumped against the oak railing. Dream can’t hurt like this, everything had to be real!
“My ship” he moaned, as a few sailors appeared out of the hatch on the deck, roused by the sound of their Captain’s voice. They stared or stumbled about, too sick or dazed to take everything in at once. One young lad fell to his knees and started to babble something that might have been a prayer. An older salt, a bushy white beard but no hair on his crown, started to coil some of the line on the deck, his mind numb and needing to do something familiar to protect itself.
Down below, in the ship’s hold, Major Griffith stirred. He remembered running down to find his wayward ensign and getting down with the gryphons and then nothing. The officer put a hand to his face and winced as his fingers found shards of glass sticking out of his face. His jacket was sticky and stank of fermented whale oil. Once of the lamps, swinging freely from the ceiling, must have struck him during the storm.
“Ensign Watkins” croaked Nicholas, between grunts of pain, as he started pulling the glass from his cheek.
At last, Captain Morr stood up and stumbled over to the port railing. If this was some horrible nightmare, he damn well wasn’t going to listen to other people shout in it. He sucked in a breath, so that he could yell at the those poor souls that had wandered into his dream, when he looked down and saw the damage to the side of his beloved ship. His body had bruised and ached like the devil but the gaping wound in the Sea Breeze near stopped the sailor’s heart and it felt like his very soul had been ripped open. He let out an anguished cry and slumped against the oak railing. Dream can’t hurt like this, everything had to be real!
“My ship” he moaned, as a few sailors appeared out of the hatch on the deck, roused by the sound of their Captain’s voice. They stared or stumbled about, too sick or dazed to take everything in at once. One young lad fell to his knees and started to babble something that might have been a prayer. An older salt, a bushy white beard but no hair on his crown, started to coil some of the line on the deck, his mind numb and needing to do something familiar to protect itself.
Down below, in the ship’s hold, Major Griffith stirred. He remembered running down to find his wayward ensign and getting down with the gryphons and then nothing. The officer put a hand to his face and winced as his fingers found shards of glass sticking out of his face. His jacket was sticky and stank of fermented whale oil. Once of the lamps, swinging freely from the ceiling, must have struck him during the storm.
“Ensign Watkins” croaked Nicholas, between grunts of pain, as he started pulling the glass from his cheek.
- 83 posts here • Page 1 of 4 • 1, 2, 3, 4
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View All » Add Character » 13 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Loare
A Lythari turned wild woman who has lived alone for most of her life.
Izquixochitl
A priestess of the Lythari moon-worshipping alliance.
Dolores "Lola" Rio
Natural born follower
Jane Watkins
Ensign in the Elmish Aircore
Nicholas Griffith
Major in the Elmish Aircore
Baz OcHann
Schunnoan soldier on a secret mission
James Viteri
Nephew of the wealthy Lord Durkin and second-in-command of the family's huge trade empire.
Lord Phillip Holmes Durkin
He's the one paying for the shipping, and as such has taken a personal interest in the matter.
Trending
Izquixochitl
A priestess of the Lythari moon-worshipping alliance.
Dolores "Lola" Rio
Natural born follower
Calder Mor
Captain of the Sea Breeze
Jane Watkins
Ensign in the Elmish Aircore
Loare
A Lythari turned wild woman who has lived alone for most of her life.
James Viteri
Nephew of the wealthy Lord Durkin and second-in-command of the family's huge trade empire.
Nicholas Griffith
Major in the Elmish Aircore
Lord Phillip Holmes Durkin
He's the one paying for the shipping, and as such has taken a personal interest in the matter.
Baz OcHann
Schunnoan soldier on a secret mission
Most Followed
Izquixochitl
A priestess of the Lythari moon-worshipping alliance.
Calder Mor
Captain of the Sea Breeze
Nicholas Griffith
Major in the Elmish Aircore
James Viteri
Nephew of the wealthy Lord Durkin and second-in-command of the family's huge trade empire.
Lord Phillip Holmes Durkin
He's the one paying for the shipping, and as such has taken a personal interest in the matter.
Loare
A Lythari turned wild woman who has lived alone for most of her life.
Dolores "Lola" Rio
Natural born follower
Whip Venst
A rogue pirate from Swiden, running from something other than the law...
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Shipwrecked
1 ... 5, 6, 7by Irish Wolf on Thu Oct 28, 2010 1:49 pm
- 122 Replies
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- Last post by NorthernSoul
on Sat Apr 16, 2011 4:58 pm
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Shipwrecked
Most recent OOC posts in Shipwrecked
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
*poke*
My dears, are we going to keep moving?
I thought I had convinced Wakeangle to join up but I haven't heard from her in a few days. I'm in the process of throwing up a new recruiting thread.
My dears, are we going to keep moving?
I thought I had convinced Wakeangle to join up but I haven't heard from her in a few days. I'm in the process of throwing up a new recruiting thread.
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
Well ninja, the Alliance and Empire are at war, its just kinda stalled into skirmishes and raiding. Plus the Empire already has a plan to breath a little life back into the conflict.
Anyways, it sounds like idea 1 is the winner and I have sent out a few pms and will be opening a recruiting thread some time today.
Anyways, it sounds like idea 1 is the winner and I have sent out a few pms and will be opening a recruiting thread some time today.
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
Perhaps a combination of 3 and 1? Say we get through the part in 3 where we meet Xo and they are headed back to her city when the hostile natives of the other sect strike, taking Xo and some of the group hostage while the other's escape. Perhaps then it could turn into a collaborative rescue mission between the shipwrecked sailor and the people of Xo's city? I got the vibe there was going to be war between the two sects anyway, so perhaps this is a catalyst that gets the ball rolling?
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
Well, I think option 1 sounds the most interesting but really, it's your RP. Perhaps we could do with some more recruitment too...?
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
Oh and if you'd like some more natives, like say a hunter or warrior, say the word and I'll make her.
Anyways, time fore bed.
Anyways, time fore bed.
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
The plot is loose and willing to wiggle!
Now I suppose that we have a few directions we could go in, depending on how you feel about it.
Option one
James and party find the town Xo was heading to in the last or only post she was mentioned in (page 2). When the humans show up, the Lythari capture them, with Maggie (damn I am that weak) or James (damn he was right) or a random sailor escaping to bring Calder to the "rescue". The captain arrives just as the language barrier is standing to fall and his plan to free them might get everyone killed.
Option two
James and friends find a nice cave (or get chased into one) but before they can report back to the beach, the surviving raiders find them and attack! Can they hold out until rescue?
In the mean time, Xo appears on the beach with a party of her Alliance warriors. Tense stand off, while the leaders try to communicate. A native brings a report of the sound of the strangers weapons in the mountains. Can the massage be communicated in time to save James, Maggie and the sailors?
Option three
James and friends find a nice location out in the woods and bring the news back. James gets to gloat, while the captain glowers, as they rig up a way to carry the supplies and other gear to the spot. All the while Xo continues to watch them, almost getting caught a few times, until she tries to approach the strangers, on behalf of her mother or just to learn more about them?
Now I suppose that we have a few directions we could go in, depending on how you feel about it.
Option one
James and party find the town Xo was heading to in the last or only post she was mentioned in (page 2). When the humans show up, the Lythari capture them, with Maggie (damn I am that weak) or James (damn he was right) or a random sailor escaping to bring Calder to the "rescue". The captain arrives just as the language barrier is standing to fall and his plan to free them might get everyone killed.
Option two
James and friends find a nice cave (or get chased into one) but before they can report back to the beach, the surviving raiders find them and attack! Can they hold out until rescue?
In the mean time, Xo appears on the beach with a party of her Alliance warriors. Tense stand off, while the leaders try to communicate. A native brings a report of the sound of the strangers weapons in the mountains. Can the massage be communicated in time to save James, Maggie and the sailors?
Option three
James and friends find a nice location out in the woods and bring the news back. James gets to gloat, while the captain glowers, as they rig up a way to carry the supplies and other gear to the spot. All the while Xo continues to watch them, almost getting caught a few times, until she tries to approach the strangers, on behalf of her mother or just to learn more about them?
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
I can do... It's just, to be honest, I'm struggling to come up with much inspiration for this RP. Now that the two groups have split off, you're going to effectively be RPing on your own. That and the only native character still active is mine (which makes things difficult as I don't know where you want the plot to go).
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
Must resist jokes about girls and how they "suck"......
Anyways. I have posted. Will we be seeing Xo show up at some point in the near future?
Anyways. I have posted. Will we be seeing Xo show up at some point in the near future?
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
My character's kinda hanging at the moment too. I read that your character was running along the treelines and I placed my character in your route Jadeling. So let me know if there's anything we can work out.
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
Perhaps have one of the sailors or one of our characters save her from a scary snake monster? Or perhaps she ends up at the base of the ship and James/Calder/Maggie help her up?
Re: [OOC] Shipwrecked
Still here, still reading. Still puzzling out how to get Loare definitively on the side that probably won't kill her on sight.
I have the next few days off, so I'm sure I'll have a chance to reply. Hopefully today. I'm on it!
I have the next few days off, so I'm sure I'll have a chance to reply. Hopefully today. I'm on it!