Corsairs of the Red Sails

[Skittle_Overlord]

Chaos ensued as Arto calmly wiped down the captain’s desk. She ignored the battle yells and noise coming from outside, she had learned to simply tune it out and get to her work. Thinking of nothing in particular she started to hum a tune, a lullaby her adoptive mother always sang. It probably wasn’t the smartest of things to do, especially since pirates were right outside, but she figured no one could hear her over the loud mess unfolding outside, besides, these her were the captain’s quarters and no but the captain himself or the cabin boy came in here often. As for the moment, the captain was preoccupied, so no worries.

A loud crack sounded as she heard some cannon fire, she didn’t so much as flinch. Arto was so into her work that she even started to sing the pretty lullaby, but her attention was snapped back to reality as the door slammed open. Standing there was a slightly frightened looking man, he was no pirate, but one of the sailors from the opposing ship, apparently some of them had started boarding in hopes of turning the hopeless odds. Arto’s gray eyes became wide as the man looked at her confusedly; he shook his head and pointed a musket at her. “Don move ‘n don make a sound.” He demanded in a sharp accent that Arto didn’t recognize. Arto acted in a flash, she ducked behind the captain’s desk, just in time to dodge a bullet that hit a window where her head used to be instead. Her hands flew to her vest; she pulled out one of her long daggers and threw it at the man’s left leg from under the desk. It found its target and did what it was meant to do, it made the man fall over and clutch his leg, a second dagger found its way to his head, Arto’s aim didn’t fail her in the least.

She stood up and brushed some glass off of her shoulder, “Damn, now I’m going to have to patch up a window and swab the floor.” Arto sighed and walked over to the dead man, poking him she said angrily, “All thanks to you mate.”

Grabbing his arm she dragged him as best she could out of the cabin, the man was rather heavy. When she finally did she let his arm drop and just left him on the floor outside the captain’s door, he was way to heavy for her to drag anymore. Panting a bit she took back her daggers and wiped them off on his shirt. There were other dead men on the deck as well; fools who tried to board the Dark Lady. Tucking her daggers away she went back inside and started sweeping up the glass. “Pain in the arse…” she mumbled.

[Tiix]

Andy looked around the ship and joined the men in fighting. She was not only trained on how to keep herself alive, but also in the art of true fencing. Deciding to have a bit of fun she taunted one of the enemies. She backed him into a corner and pulled out her dagger. Stepping up to him she smiled and put the dagger to his throat. The man, thinking it was a better fate, jumped into the icy water and she rolled her eyes “Coward!” she yelled over the side of the ship.

That one moment of distraction cost her, she felt a stabbing pain in her ribcage. Using the same dagger she threatened the other man with she swung around and stabbed her attacker in the arm, giving her a chance to turn around and face her attacker. Using her booted foot she kicked him in the chest sending him to the ground. Stepping on the man’s throat as she pulled the knife from her side she grunted trying to ignore the pain. Suffocating the man she bit her lower lip. She ripped off the arm of her shirt and wrapped it around her chest trying to put pressure on the wound. It was going to have to do for now, she looked around the ship. There was too many people to kill to truly take care of it right now.

[Orrin55]

Greyn had joined with the first wave, and was into the sailors like a whirlwind, his axe viciously cutting a swath in the ranks of the enemy. Let the other's head below deck if they wanted, his axe was far to big to be any use in there, instead he made sure no one escaped from the decks. One sailer got lucky, ducking underneath the ax head he tried to come in for the kill but a simple kick had him reeling back into the circle of death.

Thats when he noticed the threat on the bow. Upstairs, both musket men and throwers barricaded themselves and began bombarding the crew.Greyn had to figure something out, but his blunderbuss was meant for close range, and he didn't want to throw his axe. Only one thing to do, charge and hope one of his pirate friends kept him safe.

[OriginalSix]

His feet pounding against the wood, Bakarr ran for the nearest door to the gun deck. Six feet from it, a dark shape threw itself in front of him. Bakarr instinctually raised his arm to strike, pausing as he recognised the wulfen features of Rotendo. Through the hammer of blood pounding in his ears, he barely registered the other gnole saying something about finishing the fight.

Growling a brusk "Aye," Bakarr shoved past him and threw himself through the doorway. Despite the differences between them, and his own intense dislike of the cooks religious leanings, Bakarr was glad to have him at his back. Fighting alongside another gnole brought back memories of his youth, of running with his pack, of his father...

Bakarr violently shook his head. Now was not the time for fond remeniscences. It was essential the Passion's gunnery deck was cleared before they fired a broadside into the Lady. No matter how few guns she had, firing from this range would cause heavy damage to their hull. Damage they couldnt afford to take.

The two gnoles stormed down the staircase, A crewman by the name of Victor barrelling through the door after them several seconds later. Bakarr hit the floor and immediately threw himself at the nearest man. Busy loading his cannon and facing away from them, the sailor stood no chance. Bakarr's cutlass slashed through his arm to the bone, dropping him to the deck screaming. Two quick steps took him to the next man, standing agape at the ferocity he'd just witnessed. He fell just as fast, clutching desperately at the foot long gash down his chest.

A series of rapid cracks broke the air as the sailors levelled their pistols at the intruders. Bakarr almost yelped as lead shot thudded into his left arm, dropping to all fours as another ball glanced off his knee. He looked up into the barrel of a gun, ten feet away, the eyes of the sailor pointing it at him ice cold. The sailors knuckles whitened as his finger squeezed tight on the trigger. Bakarr could do nothing to defend himself.

[Irish Wolf]

"Thats my boys" cried Peryer, as the first of his crew jumped aboard, followed my a disorderly mob of screaming savage men, ready for death and plunder, "Thats my boys!"

He let out his own shout and took a running leap over the railing. As the wide legs of his pants fluttered around his shoeless feet, his left hand shot down to his waist and pulled forth a pistol. From the side of his vision, he could see merchant sailors, their skin a deep bronze hue, leaping aboard his own ship, hoping that the fighting would be easier or perhaps to bluster their own number with freed slaves. It was an amusing plan of theirs to say the least. Those that had been chosen to say behind would be sulky, pissed and would love a good chance to kill something. And then there was Otto himself, a great fat man with dark ebony skin, more then able to use his whip to disarm and enslave.

As the merchantmen fell back away from the middle of the deck, the corsair captain landed upon the quarterdeck. One man, armed with boarding pike, thrust his weapon at the red clad belly of the invading sailor, only to have it knocked away with the flat of a cutlass. Before a second attempted might be made, the captain's pistol spat fire and lead, dropping the sailor dead upon the deck.

"Have At 'em Lads" roared Peryer, parrying the blow of a cutlass with his own blade.

[The Lord of Hats]

"YOU'LL NOT BE USIN' DAT ON MY WATCH!" Rotendo bellowed as he became a blur of blues, reds, and browns, barrelling towards the sailor. There was a sharp report as the man sent the leaden ball digging into Rotendo's chest, but the pain of the impact didn't even register with the gnole. He merely continued his charge, his left hand coming up in a wide slash, the sailor making a lame attempt to block the blow with his rifle. The swing knocked the weapon out of the man's hands, leaving him clutching at his throat, blood gushing from between his fingers.

Rotendo's breathing was deep now, and slightly ragged. The spirits were guiding him well, but he knew, deep within his gros bon ange, that soon their hold upon him would begin to weaken. He was skilled, as cheval went, but his time for preparation had been limited. He hoped that this would end before he was left unguarded on the enemy ship.

That was all deep within him, conscious thought buried beneath layers of instinct and influence. Almost without his guidance, his body had already rushed forward, and was currently fighting a man who had decided he would rather try his luck with a blade. Machete clashed against cutlass, Rotendo gaining ground but losing positioning of his hands, wild swings pushing the man backward but throwing Rotendo off balance. The man smirked at Rotendo. The duel was in his hands, now. He had maneuvered the gnole into a position where, after blocking this final wild vertical swing, he would be perfectly positioned to lay open Rotendo's guts. He brought his cutlass up to parry, steel meeting steel.

The cutlass snapped in two. Gnoles of all stripes had long been looked down upon, their cultures considered uniformly primitive. It was just as widely agreed, however, that they forged the best steel in the world. Rotendo left the man and his spilling guts on the deck behind him as he continued to press forward, seeking his next target.

[jakor]

Victor ran in after the gnoles, he knew the three of them couldn't seize this deck alone so as he fought he looked around for something he could use. His eyes fell on a stack of powder kegs, the fools, he thought every sailor knows not to leave that much gunpowder lieing around on your gunnery deck, he'd have to teach them a lesson. Victor aimed his pistol at a stack of kegs and yelled "Nobody move or I'll blow this place" he watched as the rest of the deck froze "Now, if you slop value your lives you'll give these fine gnoles your weapons."

[OriginalSix]

Bakarr watched as Rotendo threw himself between him and the sailors musket, the cook barely even flinching as it discharged square into his chest. The gnoles heavy hand swung out and the sailor dropped, blood pouring from the gaping ruin where his throat was a second before.

Launching himself onwards, Rotendo engaged another sailor, sword to sword. The duel was swift and bloody, Rotendo's gnolish steel machete cleaving through the other mans blade, leaving him in a bleeding heap.

Fighting through the pain in his limbs, Bakarr pushed himself to his feet. As he stood Victor called out from behind him. "Nobody move or I'll blow this place!"
Bakarr looked round. Victor was pointing his pistol at a pile of powder kegs. Inside his head, Bakarr cursed. Victor's ruse was foolish and incredibly risky. Playing on the hope you would be crazy enough to blow yourself to pieces along with your enemy. Amazingly, it worked. The sailors all slowly ceased to fight, pistols and swords twitching in nervous hands. Bakarr knew the only way this would work is if he kept the momentum, keeping the sailors on the back foot.

As Victor called out again Bakarr drew his claymore, all five and a half feet of glittering steel still dripping blood from his initial charge. He gestured to the starboard cannon, his voice a roar. "Move, now!"

Cowed, the remaining sailors shuffled to the side, most abandoning their weapons as they went. Bakarr glanced at Rotendo, still bleeding from the musket wound, his eyes bloodshot, obviously under the influence of one of his concoctions. It wasn't any wonder he had shrugged off the shot so easily. Bakarr gave him a brisk nod, then turned, limping towards the stairs. He threw himself up them, into chaos. Across the deck corsairs and sailors were brawling everywhere in tight groups, musket fire whistling overhead from sharpshooters on both sides. Bakarr grabbed the nearest few corsairs, shoving them towards the stairs, following them back down a fraction of a second later.