Pirates of the Sorcerean - what the night hides

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The sun sets, and the scene on the ocean has remained much the same as it was; the Ariel's prow cutting smoothly through the waves, tailed by the massive and unwieldy ship of the Royal Navy, and following the merchant ship heavily loaded with cargo.

The Ariel ostentatiously kept quiet during the day, but of course that wasn't the intended plan. No good pirate could possibly pass over this opportunity.

As the night fell, a mist rose, out of a clear and cloudless sky and after a very dry day. The moon's rays were incapable of penetrating the thick fog, managing only to illuminate it with a sickly glow that only enhanced the eerie feeling of the overall scene. It was unlikely any of the crews on the ocean could have seen further than a meter away from their own noses. To top it all off, the lone lookouts in Admiral de Triste's crew, and the crew of the merchant ship, were feeling decidedly sleepy.

A small boat detached itself from the side of the Ariel and moved through the water almost noiselessly, except for the sound of oars meeting water.

In the dead hours after midnight, it is rumored among landlubbers that ghosts walk. Of course, pirates know better. More than any other time, night is a pirate's time. Pirates are fond of darkness, as it conceals their objectives more clearly than any magic-wrought illusion.

Yes, black dealings are what the night hides....

 

Tanya aids them on their way and stands looking after the longboat till they've disappeared into the fog. Godspeed..

Doing a count on those remaining on the ship, she made a watch order shifting every hour. She headed down into the galley for a good dinner and a possible nightcap and parley with whom ever of the remaining crew hung out there.

 

The men move the longboat through the silent night until suddenly, Nimue sees the dark wooden side of the ship before them. The boat stops. She nods to herself, and stands up, gulping slightly at the rocking of the smaller boat. "Leave it to me," she sais with a grim smile. "I used to work roofs."

She looks almost surprised that she has said this, but nevertheless, she uncoils a slender rope from around her waist, which beings to float up until hangs vertically next to the side of the ship - glowing purple. Angels bless for Fabian's fog, she thinks in annoyance. Why does EVERYTHING I do wind up glowing bleeding purple? That'll get me in trouble some day.... but nevertheless begins climbing up the side of the merchant ship.

On deck, there is only one lookout. He is sound asleep. She smiles to herself; who'd have guessed that a pinch of valerian in the spell mix would make such a difference? One of the few happy accidents of her apprenticeship. She tosses a rope ladder over the side of the ship as noiselessly as she can, and waits. This should be a piece of cake, she thinks. I hope.

 

Peyweth grabed the rope in one hand a placed his dagger in his teeth with the other. The pulled himself up, looking every bit the pirate that he was.
That didn't make his any better at climbing up rope ladders however. It kept swaying, though no doubt it would be perfectly still as soon as the next person climbed up it. Many bumps and muttered curses later he made it over the side, making seemingly loud scuffling noises as he landed on the deck.
He pushed himself to his feet and looked around carefully, seeing that all was in place as it should be.

 

George wondered around in the galley holding two kegs of rum after being kicked out by Meatloaf again. Looking around, he spotted Tanya and quickly approached her.
"Welcome, welcome!" George bellowed, handing her a keg. "I figured you'd be thirsty, o good sailoress, and thought I would be gentlemanly for once and bring the lady a drink! Hah! Splendid, ain't it..."

 

Tanya eyes the mug suspiciously.
"Indeed.. what is this? Ale, rum?"
She took the mug and sniffed.

"Ah, well thank you George, cheers"
she raises her mug and takes a gulp.

"So what is your profession, George? Till now I must admit I have been quite.. puzzled by it."

 

"My profession?" George said as he took a swig of the rum. "I serve no practical functions whatsoever and wastes the ship's rations though drinking kegs of rum for no apparent reason." he said quite proudly. "Oh...and I also seem to be a good swordfighter, or some such. Which is why I have two swords, to double my power, see..."

 

Nimue nods to Peyweth and sais softly, "Now, how should we go about disabling the enemy crew and convincing them to sail their own boat for us, Captain?" she asks, somewhat doubtfully. "I have the magic, but you have the command. And I honestly can't imagine how to make them keep quiet." She shrugs. "Certainly they are very much asleep, and can remain so until you wish me to release them."

 

Mister Fabian wasn't worried about the raid. Although he hadn't told Nimue, he was sure that there was no Steward - apprentice or otherwise - on board the merchantman. She should be fine, as long as the rest of the raiders could keep their piratical lusts in check.

Most of his attention was on the fleet behind them. If St. John was paying attention, the fog Mister Fabian had raised would have been a huge, unmistakeable calling-card. Thank the powers that be that the man was a chronic sycophant. Even after all his years with the Navy, St. John would likely be sucking up to the Admiral rather than looking for the unexpected. Even so, Mister Fabian stayed on deck, part of his attention forward with the raiders, the rest sweeping the sea to their stern.

 

"I don't be trustin' this magic of yurs," said Peyweth gruffly. "Shut the blasted thing off, we'll kill 'em while they're still asleep. Get 'em to sail their boat up t' ours an' unload their cargo."

 

"Peyweth, don't be a fool! The entire point of Tanya's plan was to keep some of them alive to sail the ship for us. That way, we would then be in control of two ships, and the Royal Navy, which might I remind you, is right behind us, would not notice a thing. I mean, imagine...we'd then have TWO pirate ships to one Navy ship, and they wouldn't even realize...what a blow to the Navy scum! I say we kill the Captain and anybody that looks like an officer, and leave some of our men behind to control the remaining crew; they should be fairly tractable, then. Think about it, Captain Peyweth. TWO ships, all your own. To pass up such a wonderful opportunity would be idiocy at best."

[ October 19, 2003, 15:24: Message edited by: Tiamat ]

 

Peyweth considered, "Well, they don't be needin' all of their crew. We kill all but who we be needin', an then take the ships! Then we have two ships!," he said, as though it was his idea.

 

Dante, overheard the conversation "Aye, two ships would be a fine" he said "But this vessel is much slower than the Ariel , and this venture is based on speed. If we take this one as well, we will be vastly slowed. It's your choice captain, I'm just voicing my opinion."

 

Nimue shrugs, "Are you pirates? Do you want plunder? Now, if you want the plunder, this is the only way to do it without having the Navy being after us specifically, with a real reason to arrest us. On the other hand, do you really think some of the crew we have would willingly forgo plunder? Furthermore, if we move all this ship's goods to the Ariel, we will be slowed down considerably anyways, AND the merchant crew would know something was wrong and go straight to the Navy ship. However, if we move SOME of this ship's goods to the Ariel, and move the rest in the ship itself, which we've taken over, it should not slow us down too much. We already have the Navy on our tail, so how can it hurt? I DO recommend we don't stay here arguing till the sun rises, though. There's only so long I can maintain a spell with such broad reach, even with Fabian's help!" she adds acidly.

 

Mister Fabian knew it as soon as the first sailor fell to a pirate's cutlass. It was a Steward's occupational hazard, the way he became a barometer for his ship's crew. Trying to stave off the building agitation, he wondered if this was part of the reason there had been very few female Stewards throughout the Order's history, aside from the sailors' usual superstitions against women on ships. Mister Fabian didn't share this belief, but he was routinely glad that the vast majority of the crew's wenching took place in port, where the bond was much weaker.

The exhiliration was still building, so Mister Fabian knew the slaughter on the merchantman continued. It was becoming a distraction, so he turned away from the rail and headed below, hoping not to meet anyone on his way to his cabin.

 

"Capt'n! There be a strange fog avast!" cried down Tanner Hackley, the lookout of The Waitoa. "It be magic fer sure! Get the Steward!"

There was a great deal of thumping around the deck as peopel scurried to their posts. Finally a cry came out loud and clear in the night.
"Bring out the oars! There be pirates abroad!"

**************

"We be keepin' the ship. Maybe not fer long, but she'll be an asset t' us. We c'n send it where we dunnot dare risk The Ariel. Let 's git t' the killin' now."

 

Mister Fabian was almost below when he felt a stirring in the aether that could only mean one thing - St. John, aboard the Waitoa, had been alerted to their presence and was trying to assess the situation. He sent a crewman to summon Tanya and the remaining crew to the deck. They were still well-protected by the fog and distance, but it was time to make ready for battle.

[ October 20, 2003, 22:02: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

Nimue stands on the deck of the wallowing merchant ship, her dagger's blade red and dripping with the Captain's blood. Compulsion is a good thing when you're trying to find someone, she thought smugly. They come to you. Her grin seemed less than human.

Her Othersenses flew out beyond her body effortlessly, as they always did; she was SURE there was something wrong with the ease with which it came to her - as if her consciousness were not entirely attached to her body. She shuddered, until her mind reached the Waitoa and something else altogether attracted her attention.

She pulled out a crystal from her belt pouch, white with a pulsing core of green light, and spoke into it, breath ragged with anxiety. "Fabian, St John is aware of us. I don't know HOW exactly he broke through the sleeping enchantment we put on the fog; perhaps the Waitoa was warded?" She shrugs. "Tanya had an excellent plan, but we're in trouble!

She looks over the deck of the Pride of Drentan, where chaos so briefly reigned and then was put down: Peyweth smiling triumphantly at the wheel, Dante meticulously cleaning his saber on the dead first mate's garb, and the rest of the raiding party - about a third of the Ariel's crew - maintaining order.

"We have the ship," she adds to Fabian, almost as an afterthought. "We're bringing some of the merchant crew to the Ariel, to replace the men that Peyweth is leaving here to keep order; we're also moving some of the cargo to our boat, so that the Pride doesn't slow us down too much. We'll need speed, I think." She sighs, "And to think I wanted excitement."

 

Nimue felt Mister Fabian's voice in her head, rather than hearing it in her ear. "I know about St. John," he said tersely. "Leave him to me, for now. Your first job is to keep the crew over there focussed so we can make best speed. Once we're under way, I'll need your help to keep us both concealed."

He knew it was risky to keep working magic with another Steward on the prowl, but there was no choice. If they could get away quickly enough, there was chance that St. John wouldn't see his aura, as clear a beacon of their position as if they sailed under the noontime sun. Mister Fabian didn't know St. John except by reputation, and that gave him a thread of hope.

So how to keep the Waitoa at bay while the Pride was made ready? The fog had run its course so something else was required... ghost images? a siren's call to distract the crew? Either was easy enough, but Mister Fabian's aura would still give away their true position. Suddenly, he thought of the focussing spell he had told Nimue to use. If he reversed the glass, perhaps that would reverse the effects. It would be difficult for the navy to pursue them if the sailors couldn't think straight.

Hurrying back to the deck, Mister Fabian faced aft and pulled a small spyglass out of his belt. To Tanya's surprise he didn't put it to his eye but instead held it reversed before his mouth and spoke a quiet spell into it.

 

Nimue muttered the focus spell Fabian had reminded her of and steadily kept her concentration on it, in the back of her mind; she was used to compartmentalizing her thoughts by now. "Invisibility?" she asked Fabian into the crystal linked to his aura. When he did not reply, she supposed that he was doing something about it. It was nice, occasionally, to be the Apprentice. Responsibility for others had never been her strong point - yet here she was, keeping a bunch of scatter-brained pirates on track. She heaved a slight sigh.

Peyweth, at the wheel, was screaming his orders in his usual wine-hoarse voice; the longboat carrying some of the Pride's goods moved to the Ariel, and she could see and feel in her mind both ships letting out their sails and setting their course towards Sorrow's Rock.

Her urgent call surprised her; since when had she ever cared? yet she let it resound, heard through out the ship. "Swiftly! Swiftly, I tell you, you fools! Much depends on this."