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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 2528630" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p><strong>First Blood</strong></p><p></p><p>Viktalia smiled, as a fresh southerly wind brushed against her face, and pushed the <em>Black Joke</em> further along its now westerly course as the morning sun gently pushed away the last of the fog that surrounded them the night before. </p><p></p><p>A week before, a fresh wind had also hit the ship, when the former captain, Cecil Daod, agreed (under Viktalia’s advice) to leave the pinnace and request a post on the Baron’s larger galleon. Of course when Cecil had invited her to his cabin the day of the transfer, Viktalia had expected him to make some untoward advances, so she insisted they drink Formoteran wine... another suggestion the starstruck loon had agreed to. Of course the alcohol hardly affected her, but Cecil had become pliably unconscious, and was transferred by Visiel’s arms to the other vessel with ease.</p><p></p><p>Kaled, of course, had immediately stepped in, and had been given temporary promotion to Ship’s Captain, a change the crew greeted with enthusiasm, and as a result, the positions of the various ship’s officers had shifted. While Viktalia was still Quartermaster, Siran, as the officer with technically the most sailing experience behind Kaled himself, had been bumped up to First Mate.</p><p></p><p>“G’morning, ma’am.” Viktalia’s earrings jingled as she turned and nodded to the sailor who respectfully touched his head as he walked by. The word had spread among the crew that she had been the one to persuade Cecil to leave, and while her position remained the same, her own reputation had risen immensely.</p><p></p><p>She turned back to the early morning sea, watching the wisps of fog steadily burn away, her eyes lazily scanning the distance. Visiel the previous night had been stationed on watch, and after a long stretch, he had grown bored. Kaled had sent the warforged to work helping Siran do an inspection of the ship’s hold, so now Viktalia held the all important watch for other ships.</p><p></p><p><em>We’re close to Kandor... but then again, we haven’t seen any other ships since leaving the Erelion Straits,</em> she thought. Their last sighting had been a small flotilla of Imperial Trade Galleons headed towards Erelion itself, their forms low in the water, their holds likely full of spices, treasure, and rare magical items from the New World. Kandor likely had vessels nearby... its coast was only a hundred miles to their south. <em>But until this fog burns completely away and we can see the horizon again... there’s no chance that we’ll...</em></p><p></p><p>She stopped in mid thought, as her eyes caught something far in the distance... a tiny speck of white, standing out against the background of gray. Excitement built in her as she looked again, then grabbed a telescope and looked yet again. Snapping it shut, and barely containing her glee, she shouted across the decks...</p><p></p><p>“Sail ho!”</p><p></p><p>The entire cadre of officers on board the <em>Black Joke</em> had gathered around Viktalia a few minutes later, with Kaled passing the telescope back and forth between himself and Siran. After a third look, the squat seaman gave a grunt.</p><p></p><p>“She’s a cromster... a small trade galleon,” Kaled grunted, before adding, “she’s turning away from us already, and loosing full sails.” Kaled then ground his teeth back and forth, a sign Viktalia had already learned meant that the grizzled sailor was thinking. “So the Baron’s galleon has to beat upwind to turn towards us?”</p><p></p><p>“Yessir,” Viktalia replied. <em>I’m not happy about it either... our big guns won’t be with us...</em> The galleon would take ages to turn because of the wind... by the time it swung around, the ship in the distance would be long gone... and probably running to the nearest Kandoran warship to tell them two Imperial ships were nearby.</p><p></p><p>Kaled growled, and ground his teeth a little more, before his old eyes gave a flash. He’d made a decision, and turned to the navigator manning the ship’s wheel.</p><p></p><p>“Helm! Bring us about, west by southwest!” he barked, before starting to move towards the quarterdeck. “Mr. Rapp!”</p><p></p><p>“Sir!” the cleric snapped to attention, in a manner so sharp that it surprised Viktalia. <em>Siran showing discipline? I know he’s ex-Navy, but...</em></p><p></p><p>“I understand you’ve commanded gun crews before!” </p><p></p><p>“Yes sir!” Siran seemed to swallow. Viktalia remembered him saying he’d commanded the guns on his last assigned ship during an emergency, but never as a permanent assignment. </p><p></p><p>“You’ve got the gun crews on deck! Ms. Starwynd!”</p><p></p><p>“Sir!” Viktalia brought herself to attention, trying to calm her raging emotions... her initial dread being replaced by excitement <em>A battle! THIS will be a story to tell! And its a merchantman too... it should be an easy, fun take...</em> She immediately started to think of ballad titles, and only with difficulty kept her attention on Kaled.</p><p></p><p>“You’re to go to the foredecks, maintain observation! Understood!”</p><p></p><p>“Sir yes sir!” she saluted, dashing towards the bow. Quickly she was back at the extreme bow, excitedly looking through her spyglass at the other vessel, as Kaled barked orders for the pinnace to hoist full sails, and began its pursuit.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>An hour later, Siran found his attention split between watching the fleeing merchantman, and watching as Visiel and several crewmen physically hauled 9 pounder cannons into position. As enticing as watching the cromster grow closer and closer as the smaller and faster pinnace overhauled the bigger merchant, watching the warforged eventually won out. As Visiel shoved the last of the port guns out of their gunports, Siran gave a grunt. </p><p></p><p>“Why do you grunt,” the warforged said finally, “when I push?”</p><p></p><p>“They look heavy,” Siran replied with a smirk. <em>You sure are helpful,</em> he added mentally. <em>Probably saved us half a minute with running out the cannons there.</em> The former ship’s carpenter then turned, and waved towards the quarterdeck.</p><p></p><p>“They’re out and ready, captain!” he called.</p><p></p><p>“Range, Mr. Rapp?!” Kaled called back.</p><p></p><p>Siran squinted, and looked in the distance. The cromster still had full sails flying, and no flag rising in the wind. If she was an Imperial or Kubalian ship, she would’ve raised her colors in acknowledgement. <em>She’s either Kandoran or Leesian, whichever doesn’t make any difference. Both are legal prizes...</em></p><p></p><p>“I’d call it three hundred yards, sir!” Siran called back. <em>Rather far, but if we fire a few blasts across her bow, maybe her captain will get spooked and just heave to instead of continuing this pointless chase...</em></p><p></p><p>“Excellent! Fire when ready!”</p><p></p><p>With surprising speed, the nimble <em>Black Joke</em> swung around, presenting her four port guns towards the fleeing cromster. As the first cannon came to bear, Siran heart beat faster in his chest, as he shouted the order:</p><p></p><p>“Fire!”</p><p></p><p>One by one the cannons bucked and recoiled, their thunderclap blasts echoing across the sea. For a moment, the sea was obscured by smoke from the four guns, but within seconds the <em>Black Joke</em> had pushed beyond the smoke pall. Siran squinted, looking hard, before his eyes found what they wanted. As expected, the cromster wasn’t badly damaged, though Siran could see a part of her quarterdeck had been shot away by one of the cannonballs.</p><p></p><p>“Yes!” he yelled, as he watched the cromster’s sails started to furl, and she looked like she was starting to turn about...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Viktalia saw the ship turn as well, though with her telescope, she wasn’t nearly as excited.</p><p></p><p><em>They’re running around on deck... and dragging crates onto deck as well. Why would they be hauling their cargo on deck?</em> she asked herself, looking more closely as the ship slowly turned around, ceasing her flight. <em>Either they’re going to dump their cargo overboard, or...</em></p><p></p><p>Her thought stopped, when she saw a man run to the back of the merchant ship, something in his hand. A few seconds later, the orange and red flag of Kandor was slowly climbing above the merchant’s deck.</p><p></p><p><em>Why are they hoisting their flag?</em> she thought, growing more concerned. She turned, and looked behind the pinnace... in the distance, the Baron’s galleon slowly was closing, but he was still far, far off. <em>I don’t like this...</em> She turned back to the cromster, and watched as suddenly dark holes seemed to appear all along the sides of the merchantman.</p><p></p><p><em>What are those... are those...?</em></p><p></p><p>“They’re running out their guns!” Viktalia called, her excitement and expectation changing to fear as she counted the dark holes appearing on the sides of the cromster. <em>Eight gunports... they outguns us two to one,</em> she gulped. Now it was obvious why they ran up their colors, why they had turned around. From the aft poopdeck of the ship, the orange and red flag of Kandor rose steadily, till the wind caught it and snapped it out full. <em>They mean to fight...</em> Suddenly the prospect of a fight did not seem as exciting or enticing as it once did... and fear began to grip the Formoteran more accustomed to warm fires and hearths than cannonballs flying above her head.</p><p></p><p><em>Viktalia, what did you get yourself into?!</em> she railed to herself. She’d watched when the <em>Black Joke</em>’s guns had fired and bucked, and the approaching ship had easily double their guns... the image of a cannonball headed for her head filled her mind.</p><p></p><p><em>Viktalia... you’re an officer now, on a ship! What did you THINK would happen?</em> another part of her mind shouted. <em>This a privateer! You knew this! This is excitement!</em> She took a deep breath, and carefully counted the dark spots again.</p><p></p><p>“They’ve got sixteen guns, easy!” Viktalia added a few moments later, covering the fear in her voice. <em>Maybe Kaled will swing us away? Maybe we’ll run back towards the galleon?</em></p><p></p><p>“Aye!” Kaled called back, before he shouted another command at the crews to turn towards the Cromster and close range. It exposed the <em>Black Joke</em> horribly to being raked, a shot that would send cannonballs careening down the entire length of the ship, but it decreased her cross-section and closed the range between the pinnace and the cromster. In a stand-off firefight, the <em>Black Joke</em> was outgunned enough that her chances of winning were small. If she closed, she could possibly board, in a win or lose all gamble...</p><p></p><p>Just as the pinnace began to respond to the helm, the cromster lit up, bright flashes running down her flanks as he guns opened up, one after the other. Less than a second later, the loud claps of cannonfire assaulted her ears, and instinctively, Viktalia ducked low to the deck. All around her, the air seemed to come alive, as if a swarm of roaring bees flashed just over her head, then just as quickly, the air took on an unearthly calm.</p><p></p><p>Slowly, the bard opened her eyes, then uncovered her ears. The sea gently lapped below, a soothing noise that was immediately interrupted with the shouts of orders and barking of commands. She turned, and saw the ship’s deck was not a sea of broken splinters, the crew with their heads, many laughing now.</p><p></p><p><em>They must have missed us...</em> she realized slowly, her mind slowly understanding why the crew was laughing as they loaded the guns and manned the sails, and despite the eight cannonballs that had just whizzed over their heads. She looked up towards the sails, and only saw a single, large hole. <em>Lucky...</em> she shuddered, her agile mind imagining what <em>could</em> have easily happened...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Visiel!” As the smoke from the cannonfire drifted away, Kaled rumbled through the smoke towards the warforged.</p><p></p><p>“Sir?” the warforged turned, training and honed background roaring through his mind as he was already unslinging his rifle from his back. He looked directly at his commanding officer, despite wanting to immediately check the range on the cromster. <em>I must give Kaled my full and immediate attention. Anything less could result in confusion of orders.</em></p><p></p><p>“Visiel! You said you are a good shot?!” Kaled yelled above the noise and din of sailors reloading cannon and shouting orders.</p><p></p><p>“Yes sir!” Visiel replied, with a sharp salute. “At a range of 800 feet, I have been able to consistently log direct hits on a man-sized...”</p><p></p><p>“Go to the bow, and if you have a shot on anyone on their deck, take it!” Kaled shouted. “Especially their topmen! Take them down, before they can begin taking pot-shots at our decks!”</p><p></p><p>“Yes sir!” Visiel executed a precise, proper salute, just as a musketball whined close to their head. The topmen on the cromster were already at work.</p><p></p><p>“And if you can, take out some of their officers! The more of their people we take out, the longer it’s going to take them to reload those guns!” Kaled shouted, ducking as another ball whined nearby, slamming into the deck with a <em>crack</em>.</p><p></p><p>“Sir, yes sir!” Visiel saluted again, before his eyes immediately dropped to his weapon. <em>Barrel is clean,</em> he coolly observed, before flipping the weapon to examine its wheel-lock firing mechanism. <em>Wheel turns,</em> he confirmed, before reaching a paw towards his belt, and pulling out the matches that the weapon used to fire. While shouts and screams went on around him, he carefully examined each match, making sure it was dry. Finally satisfied a few seconds later, his lumbered past the hurrying crew, before taking his position at the very bow of the ship next to Viktalia, his keen eyes searching the enemy ship as it slowly grew closer and closer.</p><p></p><p>Immediately, he spotted something. <em>Four men in the crowsnest. Likely armed with a rifle. Topmen.</em> He squinted for a moment, picking out one of them... the man was busy loading his gun. <em>Range, 400 feet.</em> Visiel rested his elbow on the railing of the ship, his stance shifting slightly as the pinnace rocked up and down through the waves. Coolly he drew a bead on his target, and squeezed the trigger, and his gun let loose a loud <em>crack</em>, covering his view momentarily with smoke.</p><p></p><p>“Damn!” he hissed when the smoke cleared. Visiel was not given to cursing much... it seemed to offend some humans, something Visiel did not want to do unnecessarily. However, he would curse to himself sometimes... and this was one. He grunted in frustration as the topman he had been aiming at tumbled into the sea.</p><p></p><p><em>A mere shoulder hit!</em> the warforged complained to himself, as he rapidly went through the motions of attaching a new match, and loading his rifle. He was better than that, and he knew it. <em>That topman could be rescued, and pose a future threat! I must have underestimated the wind.</em> He took aim yet again, this time at the topman who was still staring into the sea where his comrade had fallen. A mere 20 seconds after his rifle first fired, Visiel’s fun flashed in anger yet again. The second topman’s head disappeared in a red mist, and his body fell onto the cromster’s deck.</p><p></p><p><em>That is the proper wind elevation,</em> Visiel thought, rapidly reloading yet again. The third and fourth topmen had finally lowered their own guns. For a moment, they were obscured in smoke, and Visiel ignored the sharp <em>crack</em> only inches from his head where one of their bullets had slammed into the pinnace’s railing. Instead, he shifted his aim downward, towards the quarterdeck of the enemy ship, and picked out one man with a feather in his hat.</p><p></p><p><em>High ranking humans have feathers in their hats. Killing him could disrupt their chain of command, keeping them from firing rapidly.</em> </p><p></p><p>He squeezed the trigger, just moments before the <em>Black Joke</em> began her fateful turn to port...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Run out the guns!” Siran shouted, while he almost simultaneously directed Heraclius’ aid from the deep to attack the sailors in the water, one after the other. The gun crews gave a shout as they dashed across the deck to the starboard side, pulling on the winches that hefted the big 9-pounder out of the gunports. Siran himself dashed towards the edge of the ship’s deck, peering through the gunsmoke, as bullets whistled about. </p><p></p><p><em>Where is she?</em> He could hear the slosh of water against the cromster’s hull, the shouts of her crew as they desperately tried to reload their guns. <em>They’re reloading even as we look.</em> Twenty agonizing seconds passed by, until finally he saw a huge, dark shape loom in the gloom.</p><p></p><p>“Fire as she bears!” he cried, repeated the order he’d heard so often aboard the frigate he last served on. </p><p></p><p>Once again, the four cannons bucked and recoiled, the blasts so loud that they came to Siran as a dull <em>whumph</em>. The noise was so deafening that despite the cromster being mere hundreds of feet away, he couldn’t heart he cannonballs shattering the cromster’s hull, or the screams of her crew as two of the cannonballs flashed across at deck level, shattering limbs. The only noise he heard was the loud crack and groan of the cromster’s mizzenmast as it shuddered, then finally broke, after taking a direct hit, followed by the screams of its sailors now stranded in the water... their screams growing louder as the huge shark Siran summoned bore down on them.</p><p></p><p>“Turn her about!” he heard Kaled shout from the quarterdeck. “All hands, prepare for boarding!”</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Visiel’s gun bucked yet again in his arms, as yet another officer on board the cromster fell. A moment later, he heard Kaled’s order, and checked the distance between the ship’s once again.</p><p></p><p><em>Two more shots,</em> he realized, <em>before boarding.</em> The warforged peered through the smoke, and with mechanical precision, evaluated his targets. <em>There are no more humans with feathered hats... after the first two were eliminated, the others removed their hats. But they are still issuing commands.</em> He swung his rifle around, and took aim at one gentleman who seemed to be screaming at the gun crews on the cromster’s deck.</p><p></p><p><em>Gun captain. High priority,</em> Visiel thought, taking aim and squeezing the trigger. When the man’s head snapped back at an unnatural angle, the sailors around him immediately turned, eyes wide, towards the metallic monstrosity that was already calmly reloading his rifle.</p><p></p><p><em>Head shot. Kill,</em> Visiel mentally recorded, as more bullets whizzed by his head. Somewhere behind him, he heard the dull, wet smack of a bullet slamming into a person. He heard Viktalia gasp as a sailor fell dead, but Visiel’s mind was far too focused.</p><p></p><p><em>Next target,</em> he swung his gaze across the rapidly closing deck of the cromster, <em>officer without a hat.</em> The man was waving to the gun crews. <em>He is encouraging them to reload faster.</em> Visiel took aim, and yet another crewman on the cromster was downed, a bullet between his eyes. </p><p></p><p>“Viktalia,” Visiel announced simply in a bland monotone to his friend nearby, “you need to ready your knives. We are boarding.” Rapidly yet precisely, he replaced his rifle on his back, and drew his vicious warhammer.</p><p></p><p>“Okay,” was the response he heard from his friend. </p><p></p><p><em>Her voice is wavering. She is afraid, I think. I should raise her morale.</em> He turned back to Viktalia. Her eyes were wide, and he could see fear, but Visiel saw fear being harnessed, not fear ruling her heart. Yet if he were able too, he probably would have frowned.</p><p></p><p>“Why do you wield a stick instead of a knife?” his metallic voice rumbled about the sloshing waters of two ships rapidly drawing closer. “A knife is a more proper weapon for this situation!” <em>A stick will not cause the same level of damage as a knife...</em></p><p></p><p>His eyes were quick enough to catch her thumb sliding along the length of the baton, as well as watching her push a small part of the stick inwards. There was a soft <em>pop</em> as the end away from her opened, and a three foot long piece of steel wire shot out, landing on the deck with a thud...</p><p></p><p>...and despite the imminent fight, Visiel gave a deep, rumbling metallic chuckle.</p><p></p><p>“You are full of ambushes!” the warforged rumbled with delight. <em>A truly useful comrade! Steel wire like that could easily cut a man, and with that length, it is as useful as a sword! An ambush! Excellent!</em> The chuckles finally changed into all out laughter.</p><p></p><p>As the two ships finally crashed together, the crew of the Kandoran cromster was greeted with the scene out of their nightmares, as a giant metallic monolith lumbered onto their decks, an immense warhammer in hand, while deep, throaty laughter rumbled from his throat...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 2528630, member: 15043"] [b]First Blood[/b] Viktalia smiled, as a fresh southerly wind brushed against her face, and pushed the [i]Black Joke[/i] further along its now westerly course as the morning sun gently pushed away the last of the fog that surrounded them the night before. A week before, a fresh wind had also hit the ship, when the former captain, Cecil Daod, agreed (under Viktalia’s advice) to leave the pinnace and request a post on the Baron’s larger galleon. Of course when Cecil had invited her to his cabin the day of the transfer, Viktalia had expected him to make some untoward advances, so she insisted they drink Formoteran wine... another suggestion the starstruck loon had agreed to. Of course the alcohol hardly affected her, but Cecil had become pliably unconscious, and was transferred by Visiel’s arms to the other vessel with ease. Kaled, of course, had immediately stepped in, and had been given temporary promotion to Ship’s Captain, a change the crew greeted with enthusiasm, and as a result, the positions of the various ship’s officers had shifted. While Viktalia was still Quartermaster, Siran, as the officer with technically the most sailing experience behind Kaled himself, had been bumped up to First Mate. “G’morning, ma’am.” Viktalia’s earrings jingled as she turned and nodded to the sailor who respectfully touched his head as he walked by. The word had spread among the crew that she had been the one to persuade Cecil to leave, and while her position remained the same, her own reputation had risen immensely. She turned back to the early morning sea, watching the wisps of fog steadily burn away, her eyes lazily scanning the distance. Visiel the previous night had been stationed on watch, and after a long stretch, he had grown bored. Kaled had sent the warforged to work helping Siran do an inspection of the ship’s hold, so now Viktalia held the all important watch for other ships. [i]We’re close to Kandor... but then again, we haven’t seen any other ships since leaving the Erelion Straits,[/i] she thought. Their last sighting had been a small flotilla of Imperial Trade Galleons headed towards Erelion itself, their forms low in the water, their holds likely full of spices, treasure, and rare magical items from the New World. Kandor likely had vessels nearby... its coast was only a hundred miles to their south. [i]But until this fog burns completely away and we can see the horizon again... there’s no chance that we’ll...[/i] She stopped in mid thought, as her eyes caught something far in the distance... a tiny speck of white, standing out against the background of gray. Excitement built in her as she looked again, then grabbed a telescope and looked yet again. Snapping it shut, and barely containing her glee, she shouted across the decks... “Sail ho!” The entire cadre of officers on board the [i]Black Joke[/i] had gathered around Viktalia a few minutes later, with Kaled passing the telescope back and forth between himself and Siran. After a third look, the squat seaman gave a grunt. “She’s a cromster... a small trade galleon,” Kaled grunted, before adding, “she’s turning away from us already, and loosing full sails.” Kaled then ground his teeth back and forth, a sign Viktalia had already learned meant that the grizzled sailor was thinking. “So the Baron’s galleon has to beat upwind to turn towards us?” “Yessir,” Viktalia replied. [i]I’m not happy about it either... our big guns won’t be with us...[/i] The galleon would take ages to turn because of the wind... by the time it swung around, the ship in the distance would be long gone... and probably running to the nearest Kandoran warship to tell them two Imperial ships were nearby. Kaled growled, and ground his teeth a little more, before his old eyes gave a flash. He’d made a decision, and turned to the navigator manning the ship’s wheel. “Helm! Bring us about, west by southwest!” he barked, before starting to move towards the quarterdeck. “Mr. Rapp!” “Sir!” the cleric snapped to attention, in a manner so sharp that it surprised Viktalia. [i]Siran showing discipline? I know he’s ex-Navy, but...[/i] “I understand you’ve commanded gun crews before!” “Yes sir!” Siran seemed to swallow. Viktalia remembered him saying he’d commanded the guns on his last assigned ship during an emergency, but never as a permanent assignment. “You’ve got the gun crews on deck! Ms. Starwynd!” “Sir!” Viktalia brought herself to attention, trying to calm her raging emotions... her initial dread being replaced by excitement [i]A battle! THIS will be a story to tell! And its a merchantman too... it should be an easy, fun take...[/i] She immediately started to think of ballad titles, and only with difficulty kept her attention on Kaled. “You’re to go to the foredecks, maintain observation! Understood!” “Sir yes sir!” she saluted, dashing towards the bow. Quickly she was back at the extreme bow, excitedly looking through her spyglass at the other vessel, as Kaled barked orders for the pinnace to hoist full sails, and began its pursuit. An hour later, Siran found his attention split between watching the fleeing merchantman, and watching as Visiel and several crewmen physically hauled 9 pounder cannons into position. As enticing as watching the cromster grow closer and closer as the smaller and faster pinnace overhauled the bigger merchant, watching the warforged eventually won out. As Visiel shoved the last of the port guns out of their gunports, Siran gave a grunt. “Why do you grunt,” the warforged said finally, “when I push?” “They look heavy,” Siran replied with a smirk. [i]You sure are helpful,[/i] he added mentally. [i]Probably saved us half a minute with running out the cannons there.[/i] The former ship’s carpenter then turned, and waved towards the quarterdeck. “They’re out and ready, captain!” he called. “Range, Mr. Rapp?!” Kaled called back. Siran squinted, and looked in the distance. The cromster still had full sails flying, and no flag rising in the wind. If she was an Imperial or Kubalian ship, she would’ve raised her colors in acknowledgement. [i]She’s either Kandoran or Leesian, whichever doesn’t make any difference. Both are legal prizes...[/i] “I’d call it three hundred yards, sir!” Siran called back. [i]Rather far, but if we fire a few blasts across her bow, maybe her captain will get spooked and just heave to instead of continuing this pointless chase...[/i] “Excellent! Fire when ready!” With surprising speed, the nimble [i]Black Joke[/i] swung around, presenting her four port guns towards the fleeing cromster. As the first cannon came to bear, Siran heart beat faster in his chest, as he shouted the order: “Fire!” One by one the cannons bucked and recoiled, their thunderclap blasts echoing across the sea. For a moment, the sea was obscured by smoke from the four guns, but within seconds the [i]Black Joke[/i] had pushed beyond the smoke pall. Siran squinted, looking hard, before his eyes found what they wanted. As expected, the cromster wasn’t badly damaged, though Siran could see a part of her quarterdeck had been shot away by one of the cannonballs. “Yes!” he yelled, as he watched the cromster’s sails started to furl, and she looked like she was starting to turn about... Viktalia saw the ship turn as well, though with her telescope, she wasn’t nearly as excited. [i]They’re running around on deck... and dragging crates onto deck as well. Why would they be hauling their cargo on deck?[/i] she asked herself, looking more closely as the ship slowly turned around, ceasing her flight. [i]Either they’re going to dump their cargo overboard, or...[/i] Her thought stopped, when she saw a man run to the back of the merchant ship, something in his hand. A few seconds later, the orange and red flag of Kandor was slowly climbing above the merchant’s deck. [i]Why are they hoisting their flag?[/i] she thought, growing more concerned. She turned, and looked behind the pinnace... in the distance, the Baron’s galleon slowly was closing, but he was still far, far off. [i]I don’t like this...[/i] She turned back to the cromster, and watched as suddenly dark holes seemed to appear all along the sides of the merchantman. [i]What are those... are those...?[/i] “They’re running out their guns!” Viktalia called, her excitement and expectation changing to fear as she counted the dark holes appearing on the sides of the cromster. [i]Eight gunports... they outguns us two to one,[/i] she gulped. Now it was obvious why they ran up their colors, why they had turned around. From the aft poopdeck of the ship, the orange and red flag of Kandor rose steadily, till the wind caught it and snapped it out full. [i]They mean to fight...[/i] Suddenly the prospect of a fight did not seem as exciting or enticing as it once did... and fear began to grip the Formoteran more accustomed to warm fires and hearths than cannonballs flying above her head. [i]Viktalia, what did you get yourself into?![/i] she railed to herself. She’d watched when the [i]Black Joke[/i]’s guns had fired and bucked, and the approaching ship had easily double their guns... the image of a cannonball headed for her head filled her mind. [i]Viktalia... you’re an officer now, on a ship! What did you THINK would happen?[/i] another part of her mind shouted. [i]This a privateer! You knew this! This is excitement![/i] She took a deep breath, and carefully counted the dark spots again. “They’ve got sixteen guns, easy!” Viktalia added a few moments later, covering the fear in her voice. [i]Maybe Kaled will swing us away? Maybe we’ll run back towards the galleon?[/i] “Aye!” Kaled called back, before he shouted another command at the crews to turn towards the Cromster and close range. It exposed the [i]Black Joke[/i] horribly to being raked, a shot that would send cannonballs careening down the entire length of the ship, but it decreased her cross-section and closed the range between the pinnace and the cromster. In a stand-off firefight, the [i]Black Joke[/i] was outgunned enough that her chances of winning were small. If she closed, she could possibly board, in a win or lose all gamble... Just as the pinnace began to respond to the helm, the cromster lit up, bright flashes running down her flanks as he guns opened up, one after the other. Less than a second later, the loud claps of cannonfire assaulted her ears, and instinctively, Viktalia ducked low to the deck. All around her, the air seemed to come alive, as if a swarm of roaring bees flashed just over her head, then just as quickly, the air took on an unearthly calm. Slowly, the bard opened her eyes, then uncovered her ears. The sea gently lapped below, a soothing noise that was immediately interrupted with the shouts of orders and barking of commands. She turned, and saw the ship’s deck was not a sea of broken splinters, the crew with their heads, many laughing now. [i]They must have missed us...[/i] she realized slowly, her mind slowly understanding why the crew was laughing as they loaded the guns and manned the sails, and despite the eight cannonballs that had just whizzed over their heads. She looked up towards the sails, and only saw a single, large hole. [i]Lucky...[/i] she shuddered, her agile mind imagining what [i]could[/i] have easily happened... “Visiel!” As the smoke from the cannonfire drifted away, Kaled rumbled through the smoke towards the warforged. “Sir?” the warforged turned, training and honed background roaring through his mind as he was already unslinging his rifle from his back. He looked directly at his commanding officer, despite wanting to immediately check the range on the cromster. [i]I must give Kaled my full and immediate attention. Anything less could result in confusion of orders.[/i] “Visiel! You said you are a good shot?!” Kaled yelled above the noise and din of sailors reloading cannon and shouting orders. “Yes sir!” Visiel replied, with a sharp salute. “At a range of 800 feet, I have been able to consistently log direct hits on a man-sized...” “Go to the bow, and if you have a shot on anyone on their deck, take it!” Kaled shouted. “Especially their topmen! Take them down, before they can begin taking pot-shots at our decks!” “Yes sir!” Visiel executed a precise, proper salute, just as a musketball whined close to their head. The topmen on the cromster were already at work. “And if you can, take out some of their officers! The more of their people we take out, the longer it’s going to take them to reload those guns!” Kaled shouted, ducking as another ball whined nearby, slamming into the deck with a [i]crack[/i]. “Sir, yes sir!” Visiel saluted again, before his eyes immediately dropped to his weapon. [i]Barrel is clean,[/i] he coolly observed, before flipping the weapon to examine its wheel-lock firing mechanism. [i]Wheel turns,[/i] he confirmed, before reaching a paw towards his belt, and pulling out the matches that the weapon used to fire. While shouts and screams went on around him, he carefully examined each match, making sure it was dry. Finally satisfied a few seconds later, his lumbered past the hurrying crew, before taking his position at the very bow of the ship next to Viktalia, his keen eyes searching the enemy ship as it slowly grew closer and closer. Immediately, he spotted something. [i]Four men in the crowsnest. Likely armed with a rifle. Topmen.[/i] He squinted for a moment, picking out one of them... the man was busy loading his gun. [i]Range, 400 feet.[/i] Visiel rested his elbow on the railing of the ship, his stance shifting slightly as the pinnace rocked up and down through the waves. Coolly he drew a bead on his target, and squeezed the trigger, and his gun let loose a loud [i]crack[/i], covering his view momentarily with smoke. “Damn!” he hissed when the smoke cleared. Visiel was not given to cursing much... it seemed to offend some humans, something Visiel did not want to do unnecessarily. However, he would curse to himself sometimes... and this was one. He grunted in frustration as the topman he had been aiming at tumbled into the sea. [i]A mere shoulder hit![/i] the warforged complained to himself, as he rapidly went through the motions of attaching a new match, and loading his rifle. He was better than that, and he knew it. [i]That topman could be rescued, and pose a future threat! I must have underestimated the wind.[/i] He took aim yet again, this time at the topman who was still staring into the sea where his comrade had fallen. A mere 20 seconds after his rifle first fired, Visiel’s fun flashed in anger yet again. The second topman’s head disappeared in a red mist, and his body fell onto the cromster’s deck. [i]That is the proper wind elevation,[/i] Visiel thought, rapidly reloading yet again. The third and fourth topmen had finally lowered their own guns. For a moment, they were obscured in smoke, and Visiel ignored the sharp [i]crack[/i] only inches from his head where one of their bullets had slammed into the pinnace’s railing. Instead, he shifted his aim downward, towards the quarterdeck of the enemy ship, and picked out one man with a feather in his hat. [i]High ranking humans have feathers in their hats. Killing him could disrupt their chain of command, keeping them from firing rapidly.[/i] He squeezed the trigger, just moments before the [i]Black Joke[/i] began her fateful turn to port... “Run out the guns!” Siran shouted, while he almost simultaneously directed Heraclius’ aid from the deep to attack the sailors in the water, one after the other. The gun crews gave a shout as they dashed across the deck to the starboard side, pulling on the winches that hefted the big 9-pounder out of the gunports. Siran himself dashed towards the edge of the ship’s deck, peering through the gunsmoke, as bullets whistled about. [i]Where is she?[/i] He could hear the slosh of water against the cromster’s hull, the shouts of her crew as they desperately tried to reload their guns. [i]They’re reloading even as we look.[/i] Twenty agonizing seconds passed by, until finally he saw a huge, dark shape loom in the gloom. “Fire as she bears!” he cried, repeated the order he’d heard so often aboard the frigate he last served on. Once again, the four cannons bucked and recoiled, the blasts so loud that they came to Siran as a dull [i]whumph[/i]. The noise was so deafening that despite the cromster being mere hundreds of feet away, he couldn’t heart he cannonballs shattering the cromster’s hull, or the screams of her crew as two of the cannonballs flashed across at deck level, shattering limbs. The only noise he heard was the loud crack and groan of the cromster’s mizzenmast as it shuddered, then finally broke, after taking a direct hit, followed by the screams of its sailors now stranded in the water... their screams growing louder as the huge shark Siran summoned bore down on them. “Turn her about!” he heard Kaled shout from the quarterdeck. “All hands, prepare for boarding!” Visiel’s gun bucked yet again in his arms, as yet another officer on board the cromster fell. A moment later, he heard Kaled’s order, and checked the distance between the ship’s once again. [i]Two more shots,[/i] he realized, [i]before boarding.[/i] The warforged peered through the smoke, and with mechanical precision, evaluated his targets. [i]There are no more humans with feathered hats... after the first two were eliminated, the others removed their hats. But they are still issuing commands.[/i] He swung his rifle around, and took aim at one gentleman who seemed to be screaming at the gun crews on the cromster’s deck. [i]Gun captain. High priority,[/i] Visiel thought, taking aim and squeezing the trigger. When the man’s head snapped back at an unnatural angle, the sailors around him immediately turned, eyes wide, towards the metallic monstrosity that was already calmly reloading his rifle. [i]Head shot. Kill,[/i] Visiel mentally recorded, as more bullets whizzed by his head. Somewhere behind him, he heard the dull, wet smack of a bullet slamming into a person. He heard Viktalia gasp as a sailor fell dead, but Visiel’s mind was far too focused. [i]Next target,[/i] he swung his gaze across the rapidly closing deck of the cromster, [i]officer without a hat.[/i] The man was waving to the gun crews. [i]He is encouraging them to reload faster.[/i] Visiel took aim, and yet another crewman on the cromster was downed, a bullet between his eyes. “Viktalia,” Visiel announced simply in a bland monotone to his friend nearby, “you need to ready your knives. We are boarding.” Rapidly yet precisely, he replaced his rifle on his back, and drew his vicious warhammer. “Okay,” was the response he heard from his friend. [i]Her voice is wavering. She is afraid, I think. I should raise her morale.[/i] He turned back to Viktalia. Her eyes were wide, and he could see fear, but Visiel saw fear being harnessed, not fear ruling her heart. Yet if he were able too, he probably would have frowned. “Why do you wield a stick instead of a knife?” his metallic voice rumbled about the sloshing waters of two ships rapidly drawing closer. “A knife is a more proper weapon for this situation!” [i]A stick will not cause the same level of damage as a knife...[/i] His eyes were quick enough to catch her thumb sliding along the length of the baton, as well as watching her push a small part of the stick inwards. There was a soft [i]pop[/i] as the end away from her opened, and a three foot long piece of steel wire shot out, landing on the deck with a thud... ...and despite the imminent fight, Visiel gave a deep, rumbling metallic chuckle. “You are full of ambushes!” the warforged rumbled with delight. [i]A truly useful comrade! Steel wire like that could easily cut a man, and with that length, it is as useful as a sword! An ambush! Excellent![/i] The chuckles finally changed into all out laughter. As the two ships finally crashed together, the crew of the Kandoran cromster was greeted with the scene out of their nightmares, as a giant metallic monolith lumbered onto their decks, an immense warhammer in hand, while deep, throaty laughter rumbled from his throat... [/QUOTE]
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