Pirates of the Sorcerean - A dawn at sea

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After seeing the captain to the mess deck and then noticing Nimue still there, Dante decided to head back to his own cabin. Normally, he would have shared it with Meatloaf, but considering Dante preferred to stay on deck, watching the horizon, Meatloaf was usually alone.

As it was though, Meatloaf was not in the cabin, so Dante drew his sabre. The sword was far to fine a blade to be wielded by a marine, who normally prefered the heavier cutlass.

ooh, #500th post

An expert twirl of the blade and a perfect twist proved Dante to be more than he seemed.

 

Nimue scowled at the horizon, curled up in the crow's nest with an arm around the mast. Storm coming, she thought to herself. The sky always seemed to speak to her. Storm coming...and.... she turned and looked behind her, Ship. Oh, bugger.

Something told her that this wasn't quite the ordinary variety of pursuit, but oh well; when it came to overwhelming odds and hordes of enemies, she knew how to deal with things. It was when it came to people that WEREN'T to be faced at the edge of a knife that she seemed to have problems - so sooner or later they ended up at knife point anyway. How ironic.

For a few moments she considered if she might have wronged Dante. No matter, she thought with venom. Better safe than sorry, and better presumed guilty till proven innocent. You should have learned THAT by now in the school of hard knocks, she scolded herself. Idiot. Can you really afford to trust?

Her experiences had given her an innate fear of anyone that made anything even remotely close to a sexual overture towards her. Particularly, of men who knew a lot more than they should given the front they presented. Dante spoke a little too eloquently to be "just" a pirate; not like Peyweth, the stereotypical drunken buccaneer, or like Meatloaf, an amusing fellow, who seemed to be good-willed and harmless.

Blood of Fallen Angels! she thought, and she wasn't sure if she was inwardly swearing, or remembering. No! she told herself. Time for that later. No, never...never. There are other things to deal with right now, fool, she reminded herself scathingly.

Identifying the figure of first mate amidst as the only female amidst the cluster of crewmen busying themselves on deck, she climbed down from the crow's nest, jumping the last four feet and landing with her customary grace.

"I assume you already know we're being followed," she told Tanya.

 

"And I assume you know what this ship is capable of, no?" noted a quite, almost whisperlike voice behind them both.

Weasel, leaning casually against the railings, was looking out at sea. "This is my ship, and I'd be darned if it isn't the finest and fastest schooner in the Sorcerean!"

He flicked some seaweed, which had surprisingly appeared on the rail, back into the sea. "It won't catch us. Whatever it is. It won't catch us."

He turn to Nimue, grinned, and pointed to a spot on the horizon ahead of them. "We, however, will most assuredly catch them!" he said, pointing to the misty patch far ahead. Looking closer, you can just make out a merchant ship in the fog.

"Time fer some plundering, to be sure!" He waddled over to the hatch leading down below, opened it, and shouted at the top of his voice;

"Merchant ship ahead! Merchant ship ahead! Plunder fer y'all! Come mah mateys, there be piratin' te be done! Har Har!"

Hearing the bellows and whoops from below, he smiled contently. It might as well be now that the crew got their sealegs and pirate blood, because when we find that treasure, we're going to need it, he thought.

Walking over to the mast, he released the simple pulley mechanism which brought a weight crashing down to the wooden deck, and a black painted flag with crossed bones up to the top.

"Ahoy mateys, 'ere we go!"

 

Nimue grinned. Finally, she thought. Something's HAPPENING besides everybody infuriating everybody else. And everybody infuriating me, she added after a pause. Quick as lightning, two long, curved daggers appeared from *somewhere* in her clothes (the existence of another, hidden dimension has been postulated to explain where exactly she puts the damn things ), and, holding one in each hand, she races towards the prow. A thought fleetingly crosses her mind, Is it such a good idea to be assaulting a merchant ship with what looks like Royal Navy behind us? But...if we back down, we'll seem intimidated, and that will give them the impression they can bully us...oh, bloody.... She stops at the prow and stares at the ocean.

[ October 17, 2003, 00:55: Message edited by: Tiamat ]

 

"No I did not know they had left harbor already if that's what you're saying, m'lady." she says to Nimue.

Tanya grabbed her slim spyglass from her belt and looked towards the merchantmen as told by Weasel.
Smirking she saw that indeed it was a merchantman, one of the bigger ones too. Had it not been for the fact that the royal navy was on their tails, she'd have no qualms about leaping aboard.

Hmm... This could prove problematic con..

"WEASEL! Bring that flag down immediately!" she roared across the deck, her eyes blazing.
"If what the Stewards tell us is true, there's at least a dozen ships after us that wouldn't mind blasting away anything with that flag!" she says pointing at the flag. She takes a deep breath, looking around the buzzling crew, then back at Weasel.
"Instead, I suppose you have a bell here to rally the crew for information as all ships do. I have an idea that might gain us that ship without delay of standard boarding with roaring cannons."

[ October 17, 2003, 01:13: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

"M'lady is not necessary," Nimue replies shortly. "I am only an Apprentice, and not too fond of ceremony either. But...it seems like you have an idea. I hope for all our sakes that it's a good one, or Weasel's stupidity will cost us our lives." She grasps her belt pouch, "Yep, still here," she sais to herself, and then addresses Tanya again, "Tell me what you intend. I may be able to help."

 

"Maybe you can, however for it to work it requires the best of the crew. First of all we shall appear as another ship, without the flag of piracy since after all we're hunting for the treasure of Ruthbarb. Now I suggest a longboat, loaded with those of the crew most able and skilled in boarding, to enter the merchantman during night and see if they can overcome the guards there. I suppose you're eager to board a ship, Weasel? and from your reaction, Nimue, I'd believe you too."
she points at them as she mentions them, then looks thoughtful.

"We might even have us a fully operational second ship before the end of this then? You say you're Stewards, should be a grand chance to prove your worth to the order, no?"
She glances at Nimue, then at Fabian.
"We have more than able officers and steersmen, and I suppose at least some of the crew on that ship would be willing to go for the biggest treasure of all time instead of trading. Unless it's one of the Royal Navy ships. Does this sound acceptable, Weasel?"
She gives him a calculating stare, as if not sure what to do with him.

 

"Yes, it's just behind the wheel actually. But they're only navy, they can't catch up with us anyway!" he grinned, "Or is there something I've a-missed while I were sleeping?"

He fiddles, with his sword's hilt for a second. I was hoping there would be some excitement.., *sigh* another day then. Walking up to Tanya, his right arm flashes round for a second, and the rope pulley holding the flag up was severed, bringing the flag down.

"But your suggestion sounds very interesting, melaydee Tanya. What did you have in mind?" A wicked grin flashes in front of his face.

 

Nimue grins, and all at once the gleam in her face is once again more animal than human. "I'm in. What do you require? Illusion? A distraction? Invisibility? Sleeping lookouts? Knives in backs? Just warn me ahead of time."

 

"Merchantmen, usually peaceful ship. twelve to twenty able fighters to take on the entire crew by night. Let's assume half are inept at fighting and thus it'll be around forty or fifty we will face. I suggest we have those who will want to go, to go. If there are too many to fit in the boat, well.. We'll just have to send only the best to maximize the odds of victory. What do you think?"

 

"That sounds very good," Nimue agrees. "And I can even the odds out further. Disabled fighters are no good at defending a ship."

 

"..or attacking, if you say any ship has a steward aboard, I would assume one to be on that one as well. However, the final decision shall the captain's, but being responsible for the security of the lives of the crew, I cannot endorse the idea of a fight with the cannons."
She looks at the ones standing present.
"Which is for the sake of most the crew, what they're most able at. I only brought along two people who are good shooters, and I certainly have no idea of how to shoot a cannon myself."

 

"Not every ship merits a Steward, Ma'am," Mister Fabian interjected. "There aren't enough of us to man every common merchantman and fishing boat on the Sorcerean. At most, there might be another Apprentice, out on a training voyage." He fixed Nimue with a steely gaze. "I'm sure Nimue can handle whatever might arise. I'd rather stay on the Ariel and intercept any pursuit that might come from behind."

 

Tanya choked and looked in disbelief at Fabian.
"A fishing boat!? Have you no respect for the maidens of the sea! I'd wager there be more people and cargo on that ship than this one. Even if only an apprentice, you say yourself that Nimue is an apprentice too. I'd assume it would even out on that point."

She coughed a little and regained her pose.
"There was some talk of bad weather?"

 

Mister Fabian was unperturbed. "You raise an interesting point, Ma'am, one that's been debated in the Order since its founding. If I'm ever invited to help the Elders make policy I'll voice my opinion, but until then I'll keep my own counsel on the matter. Perhaps Mister Perry's Lorebooks will solve the question for all time.

"In any case, be assured that Nimue will be neither unsupervised, nor beyond the reach of my assistance, should it be needed. As for the weather, the coming storm should be nothing more than an inconvenience. It might even provide some useful cover for your... raid." Mister Fabian tried to sound derisive, but even he was excited by the prospect of taking the second ship.

 

Meatloaf's ears seemed to almost popup when he heard about the exrta cargo.

Still on the deck, Meatloaf had heard everything that had been said. Not worrying about any of this though he continued to stare out to sea, trying to find that boat again. He personally didn't think it would be a good idea to board the ship, and he decided to voice his oppinon.

"Umm, sorry to inturpute you all, sir, but I really don't think it be a good idea to take this ship. What would you do about the cook? There only be one on this boat whose good enough to cook for a boat full of people, and 'e isn't leaving this boat 'till we reach dry land!"

 

Weasel coughed; "Well no-one said ye filthy seadog had te come. It be onle ye real pirates who want te do some sneaky plunderin' that be goin'!" He winked at Tanya.

"Nahw, I give ye my piratey promise o' honour that I'll bring back whatever cookin' stuff there be on that ship for ye."

"How be that a-soundin'?"

 

Dante appeared on deck, and was startled by the sudden commotion that was going on. "What's happening?" he asked to the first crew member he managed to slow down.

"Merchant vessel. We're boarding 'em!" and then he dashed off.

"Tanya," Dante called to the first mate "Let me help board them. It's sort of a marine specialty"

 

Peyweth appeared, slightly more refreshed than before. He wuickly picked up on what was going on and grinned cheesily.
"Aye! It be a fine idea. Let's leap aboard the ship, kill 'em, grab the loot an' run before the Navy has moved a mile!"

 

George lay on his bed, fully awake, and thinking.
And then he heard voices. Yelling. Shouting, even. Something about merchant ships. He heard the name "de Trinst" mentioned, and he bolted up on the bed.
(A new day again...) he thought to himself, putting on his eyepatches on his forehead and perfectly good eye. Footsteps approached the cabin. Time to bring out the insanity ruse.
George stumbled over to the door and kicked it open, making it hit somebody on the face. He took the dagger he stuck on it and stuffed it in his belt, then proceeded on the deck.
"Goodmorning, Tanya." he said to Fabian idly. "And heavens above! Where'd your moustache go, Ted!!" he yelled to Tanya. "Anyway, Tyler, what is going on around here?"