Pirates of the Sorcerean - what the night hides

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Tanner pondered, torn between doing what was right, and fullfilling his duty to The Waitoa. It just wasn't right for someone to be left floating out in the sea. The storm had cleared, there was no reason whatsoever that a boat couldn't be sent out.

Yet no one was going to send boat out.
He sighed, and began to descend from the mast, resigning himself to reciting the prayers of the Lord of the Sea when he returned. It was bad form to bring back sailors from the depths, the old god liked his souls.

There were very few people on the deck, so he was able to make it to the small rowboats hanging from the side of the ship without a problem. If he was on any sanctioned mission, there would have been several people to help him lower the boat into the water. As it was, Tanner had to cut the ropes tying the boat to the ship and dive in after it.

Even though Tanner was a pathetic swimmer, he sill managed to roll over the side of his dismal little boat, which almost tipped over with him weight.
By the time he got himself in, there were several crew members leaning over the rails of The Waitoa, laughing at his foolhardiness. Tanner tried his best to ignore them, even though he felt his anger shimmering beneath the surface.
Tanner didn't really have a plan, outside of getting to the stranded person and getting him to safety, which was probably a good thing, as if he had've stopped to consider he would have realised his folly.
He slotted the oars into their places and began rowing towards the driftwood.

 

Gilbert Bates threw down his pen in frustration when he heard the laughing and cheering above deck. He adjusted his hat and trounced out on the deck.
"What is going on around here?!" he shouted as looked at where the others are and saw Tanner, rowing his boat towards a certain something.
Snatching a telescope from a nearby sailor, he adjusted and looked to what that something was. It turned out to be a person, on a driftwood. Gilbert sighed. Very silly of Tanner, he thought. Apart from the fact that he can't swim very well, okay, not at all, the chances of surviving in the cold water is next to zero.
He gave the telescope back to the sailor and walked back to his room, and continued to do his work.

 

"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall...ninety-nine bottles of beer," Kassandra sang out hoarsely as she aimlessly drifted on that piece of driftwood. She had gone through every drunken pirate song she ever knew, and now, she was singing "Ninety-nine bottles of beer" for the fourth time, in a vain attempt to keep her mind occupied for the situation she was in, no matter what the odds actually were that she would be liberated from the sea.

It was the waiting that was probably the worst for her. There was nothing to blue ocean for miles around, nothing but calm serenity. And while such a view would be beautiful for Kassandra to look at on her ship, out here, being a part of that scenery, it made her sleepy, and she knew that if she slept, she was done for.

Wearily, she turned her head up towards the sky, hoping that the rising sun would warm her chilled skin. She had stopped shivering a while ago, and knew that it wouldn't be much longer now. She would soon be a part of the sea forever. It was a harsh irony for her, to be overtaken by something she had loved for all of her life. But, Kassandra knew that the sea was a cruel mistress, and the almighty Lord of the Deep was not particular of who came to greet him in his icy underwater palace.

"My...my Lord...please, give your humble servant one last chance to prove herself to be worthy," she croaked out. Her body ached all over, and her throat was dry from the constant smell of water she couldn't use to quench her thirst. Many times she had thought of just letting one drop pass her cracked lips, but that would only make matters worse.

She might have had a chance if she wasn't so cold and stiff, if she could have found another piece of driftwood, Kassandra might have been able to paddle her way back to the ship, even if she might have been lucky enough to pick the right direction.

"Ugh, stop it, girl. You've never gave in to foolish hopes, don't start now. I accept my fate, my Lord," she cried out as she stopped treading the water with her legs, her only means of survival now solely relying on that piece of driftwood, which was beginning to break off. "Do with me as you will. I only hope that I've pleased you as a privateer."

Kassandra let out a resigned, ragged sigh, loosening her grip on her makeshift floatation device little by little, forcing herself to give up on her last vestiges of hope. Just as she was about to completely let go, something slightly wavered in the corner of her eyes, something that made her look up and focus on a small part of the horizon.

She shook her head slightly. It couldn't be anything of importance, maybe another piece of driftwood, or maybe it was those sharks finally sniffing her out. But, she couldn't take her eyes off of it, and it kept getting closer.

"Hello, are you out there?"

Kassandra's attention immediately centered on the faint voice. Someone came! They cared about her! Oh, truly, Lady Luck had been with her on this day. She took back every bad word that she said about her crewmates and began to flail one of her arms wildly, trying to get the attention of this kind-hearted soul. "Please," she cried out as loud as she could, "please, I'm over here!"

"I'm coming, just hang on!"

Kassandra almost cried when she heard the response, and then she said something that she had never said before. "Please, help me!"

 

Tanner leaned into his oars, heading straight to where the voice was coming from. The body was almost hidden by driftwood, though a mass of long matted hair was still visible.

The voice was hoarse, yet higher pitched than he would expected. But then, he must have been out at sea for many hours now, and was probably terrified.
"I'm coming, just hang on, I'll get you out in a second," he called out reassuringly, doubting that his words would help the stranded sailer one bit.

He manouvered the boat around to the other side of the driftwood and plunged one hand into the freezing cold water, while keeping the boat steady with the other. He grabbed the body around the waist and dragged it aboard his tiny boat. Pushing the hair away from her face he looked down, surprised.
"Well, well, well, where did you come from," he mused out loud. He had never seen her aboard The Waitoa before, even though it was a small ship, he prefered the crow's nest to the galley. It was rare for any ship to travel with a women on board anyway, especially a naval one.

Tanner pulled off his shirt and tried to wipe some of the water from her, as well as create enough friction to warm her blue body slightly. He wasn't entirely sure that he was helping in any way, shape, or form, but an attempt was better than doing nothing at all.

The wind that blew across the sea chilled him to the bone, and he could only imagine what it would feel like to her, coated in freezing water.
"You're going to be okay," he said, as reassuringly as he could, though he doubted it himself. "Let's get back to the ships."

 

((OoC: Now, to claim back my character!))

As laughter driffted over the deck, William was busy planning with his first mate Malcolm, what to do from here. Hearing the laughter William jumped up, faering a fight had already broken out. They could not afford fighting amoung the crew at this moment. They just could not, if they ever wanted to see that tresure.

Marching over to where the laughter came from. Seeing a group of saliors standing around, William instantly assumed that it had already finished, what ever 'it' was.

"What on the 7 seas do you think you are doing there!?" William screamed at them. "You have work to do! So unless you have a flaming good reason why you are not busy, you bet to all run off right this moment!"

William smiled to himself when all the sailers jumped to attention and saluted. Then he noticed that one still stood there, with what looked like a guilty look upon his face.

"I do hope you have a blimn good reason to be still standing here sailer?" William asked in a clam but cold voice.

"Er, sir. There's to men over board sir. And these men here sir, weren't doing nothing about it sir."

William, after a quick stunded moment, glanced over the deck, where he managed to make out what was a small row boat.

"What are you waiting for you fools! We do not, and I mean do not, leave out men to die!" William, once again screaming, said. Turning around he started issuing orders. "Turn the ship around! Lower the row boats! Get that flaming Steward out here!"

 

Gilbert threw his pen across the room, annoyed at the noise outside. How the hell could he work like this?!
He trounced to the deck again and started yelling "What is going on here?! I'm tryi-"
Then he saw the Admiral.
"Admiral de Trinst!" Gilbert said, bowing. "I have not been able to finish my reports yet, sir, thanks to the noise outside here."

 

From the desck of the Waitoa, St. John muttered a spell and the few wisps of cloud in the clear sky coalesced over the longboat, forming a swirling lens that concentrated the sun's rays on the two figures within. "Have blankets ready, and rum," he ordered. When they pulled Kassandra's sshivering body onto the deck, he broke the spell with a harsh laugh. "The best place to warm this one is in your bed, Tanner. Is the crow's nest getting lonely? Is that why you brought her back?"

 

He sat in the depths of Sorrow's Rock, and waited. The threads were all coming together, now. He had waited for the moment ever since he had come here to guard. It had seemed appropriate really, that the site of the true King's death generations ago hide the secret that could destroy entire nations. The threads are coming together, he thought, Blood will flow.

 

Tanner's hand moved to the old cutlass sheathed at his hip.
"Take back your words, Steward," he said stiffly. "Just hurry up and get her warm. I have not just saved her from certain death to bandy words with a fool like you."

 

St. John glares at Tanner briefly, then sneers. "Stewards serve the sea," he replies with a mocking bow, his voice dripping derision. He passes a hand over Kassandra's forehead, then her chest, and a brief thread of red passes into her body. "She'll live, but I still recommend blankets and rum."

 

"Tanner, Go get you self warmed up with some run and a blanket like our steward here suggested. David, you take this lady into the first mates cabin and make sure she's not dying, after that, report back to me. Now go!"

 

St. John manages to keep his tone neutral, replying simply, "Aye, sir." He gestures for two crewmen to bring Kassandra below. They lay her on the First Mate's bunk, then one slips away and returns with dry clothes. St. John strips away her sodden garments and replaces them, only the presence of the crewmen preventing him from taking more than the minimum time and hand motions required to do so. When he is confident that her spirit is firmly linked to her body, he turns leave. "Get her something warm to drink from the galley. Send for me if she doesn't begin to rouse in a few hours."

He raps abruptly on the Admiral's door. "Admiral, you wanted to see me?" The annoyance in his voice is thinly disguised.

 

After giving out the orders and making sure the crew was back to work, William retreated to his cabin, where he called for his first mate, Malcolm.

"Yes, come in," William called out, to Malcolm's knock on the door. "And close the door behind you please"

Malcolm walked in, wearing the usual clothes of one second in charge of a navy ship would wear. He had a uniform pretty much simmilar to that of William's but with less markings upon his shoulder. He wore a hat, with a slightly smaller feather on it, but everything else about their dress was identical.

Willaim stood up from where he was sitting, at the head of a table and offered him a seat. "Take a seat Malcolm. David should be here any minute"

William went back to studying some papers in front of him, until there was yet another knock on the door.

"David, come in, and take a seat. How is our newest crew member? Will she survive the night?"

 

"Nothing wrong that some dry clothes and blankets won't fix, Wil-" he breaks off suddenly, catching sight of Malcolm - "Admiral. But it's good you got her to me when you did."

St. John is, as usual, annoyed by Malcolm. It wasn't anything the man had ever done, it was simply his air of quiet competence, two traits that St. John had never had in abundance. The very way the man wore his uniform made St. John - similarly clad, of course, Stewards being officers - feel rumpled by comparison, as if he'd buttoned his jacket wrong or scuffed his boots. Unconsciously, he slouches in his chair, making the difference even more pronounced.

"Body and soul will hold together for the night. But what about her demands such interest?"

~~~~~~~~

Once the crew has the Pride under control, Mister Fabian turns to Nimue with a sigh. "I should see what's needed over on the Ariel." She could tell that he wasn't eager to face Tanya. "I want you to stay here and assist the Captain. Follow his lead - you need to learn seamanship as much as magic if you want to become a Steward, and this is a good opportunity. If Captain Peyweth isn't available, pick a group of crewmen and offer to help however you can. Or ask Mr. Dante, he knows his way around the decks."

He makes his way to the longboat and puts his back to an oar, to the surprise of the pirate accompanying him. "'Ere now, why should we row to the Ariel? Can't ye just snap yer fingers and have us there?"

Mister Fabian joins his laughter. "If you really want more magic after last night..."

"Nae, after tha' there's summat comforting about having this boat under me own control. "'Tis not a long trip, after all."

Mister Fabian climbed onto the deck and set to work, healing the injured and assisting with any number of small tasks, all the while watching for Tanya out of the corner of his eye.

[ October 26, 2003, 22:40: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

Nodding, William picks up his feather ink pen and starts to write something on a piece of paper in front of him.

"Now, gentlemen," William start after laying down his pen. "As you well know by now, there was a ship in front of us. Now I expect, judging by the way that it moved through that storm, that that ship was captianed by the faresum pirate Tanya. If this is so, there is no doubt that that ship is also heading towards Sorrow's Rock. And, unless I'm mistaken, this ship has no, due to our current situation, way to catch up to it."

At this point William stood up and started pacing the length of the cabin, in deep thought. After awhile of this he turns towards Malcolm and David.

"I am out of ideas of how we can catch up. David, is there any way using your magic?"

 

The crew aboard Ariel seemed slightly nervous at Fabian's return. His help was gladly appreciated, however darting glances met him every now and then, displaying their wondering of his departure just before the storm. After a few hours, Archer walks over to Fabian and smiles at him, giving him a pad on the back with his rough dirty hand.
"Bye the powers 'tis good ye be back, but why sail 'way due the storm?"
he makes a pondering expression showing his first wrinkles as an old sea dog.

 

Mister Fabian is torn. He knows how difficult it is to earn a pirate's trust, how easy to lose it, and how impossible it would be for him to do his job without it. But Nimue was his Apprentice, and that made him responsible for her actions. He quickly hits upon a half-truth that will protect them both.

"That storm could have been much worse. Nimue and I needed to combine forces to keep what control we could." It was a thin story but Archer seemed to buy it, especially in light of Mister Fabian's efforts in the cleanup.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I need to do some research, Admiral. Whatever entity was behind that storm, it was no Steward. Such a skill is a matter of mere legend, not history. Every APprentice wishes for mastery over the weather, and every Steward settles for something less. But I'll see what I can do."

 

Nimue finishes repairing the sail she was on, while mentally practicing her concentration exercises and reviewing most basic magical theory. She suspects that she would need it. Grumbling, she sweeps her long fall of black hair out of her eyes, which is looking decidedly grimy from the constant spray of salt water, and turns her head to look at the land in the distance.

Except that the distant sight of Sorrow's Rock is now not so distant anymore; the Pride is only a hundred meters or so from land, and closing in. She hears Peyweth's hoarse voice shout, "Let down the rowboat!".

Releasing the mended sail from her hands she moves towards the Captain, her energy returning (if not her optimism...she did not think she had ever possessed such). "Captain, I assume you are leaving a skeleton crew on the ship? It would be best if you remained on board, as the highest-ranking crew member, in case the Waitoa arrives and some sort of action is necessary."

She adds, "Sorrow's Rock...the treasure is probably connected to the ruined temple at the peak of the isle." She points; luckily, it is visible; she would not want to explain her experience within the Storm. Not waiting for a reply, she moves towards the longboat, which shortly after, begins moving to shore....

 

"And don't think your leaving me." Dante said, quickly sliding into the rowboat "You haven't said if I've proved you wrong yet."

 

A similar boat sets out from the Ariel. Mister Fabian is on board, and this time there are enough pirates as well that he doesn't have to row. The whole island seems to waver before him, but he knows that the strange flashes of light - although how can anything with such blackness at its core be called light? - emanating from the ruined temple are invisible to his comrades. A powerful place, this, if the very stones have an aura...