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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 2621799" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p><strong>Unexpected Guests</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p>Viesel stood rigidly, telescope in hand, scanning the horizon as the next day began to dawn. Everyone had insisted the night before that he help rebuild the fort, but Viesel had balked. </p><p></p><p><em>I have sharp eyes. Enemies can arrive early. I am best suited to watch for them, until the sun has arisen and human eyes can see as well as mine.</em> He’d argued the same point the night before, and persuaded his superiors to agree. </p><p></p><p>As he scanned the horizon, looking for threats, his eyes spotted something indistinct, just to the left of the rising sun. He raised his telescope, shielding it partly from the blazing light, and looked just long enough to see a speck of white.</p><p></p><p></p><p><em>This is not good.</em> There was an old adage in the Imperial army, that no plan survived contact with the enemy. <em>Especially if the enemy arrives early,</em> the warforged thought, quickly loading a charge into his rifle, and firing a blast into the air. A half-minute later, he fired the gun again. <em>Two shots... danger!</em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Siran grumbled, and tried to pull the covers over his head, only to have something hold them in place. He tugged again, and still the light kept attacking his eyes. Finally, he sat up, rubbed them, and squinted, looking about the room.</p><p></p><p>Laying next to him was the woman he’d ‘checked’ the night before, her arm keeping her half of the covers firmly in place. He was about to wake her up, to see if any more ‘medical tests’ needed to be done, when he heard two sharp <em>cracks</em> echoing through the window.</p><p></p><p><em>Gunshots... Viesel!</em></p><p></p><p>Immediately training kicked in, and he leapt from the bed, only to stumble and fall to the ground as his feet got tangled in the covers. Twisting and turning like a pro, he tangled himself even more, as his companion rolled over and sleepily whined for quiet.</p><p></p><p>“Anias’ flaming... toothpick... bloody... flaming!” the cleric twisted, freely his arm only to entrap his legs even more. Finally, with an enormous kick, he forced himself free and leapt to his feet, just in time to see the door to his rather seedy inn-room thrown wide open.</p><p></p><p>“Gah!” Viktalia backed away, shielding her eyes from the unholy horror that was Siran uncovered, “Put some clothes on!” By the grimace on her face, it looked as if she’d seen the ugliest ghost in existence</p><p></p><p>“Sirraaaannn?” the woman’s sleepy voice whined again, “Its eeaaarlyyy...”</p><p></p><p>“I’m trying to!” the cleric fired back, donning his trousers hurriedly and cursing on the names of various pagan gods. “Damn stupid Pelor’s flaming...” As Viktalia groaned again in complaint, Siran looked up at her, pulling on his tunic. “You’re not helping!”</p><p></p><p>“How can I help when I’ve been scarred for life?” the bard fired back, still shielding her eyes.</p><p></p><p>“Sirraaaan!” the woman whined, “Not noooowww. It’s eaaarlyyy...”</p><p></p><p>“Your money’s on the dresser,” the cleric said hurriedly, buckling on his breastplate before blowing the half-sleep and confused woman a kiss. “It was a fun time, may we meet again, and yes, you are definitely cured!” he called, before dashing out of the room.</p><p></p><p>“Gah,” Viktalia groaned, following him.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“How many?” the cleric asked about ten minutes later, shouts and orders ringing across the docks as both the <em>Spotted Pinnace</em> and Kaled’s <em>Black Joke</em> prepared to hurriedly put to sea. While Siran had struggled to escape the webs of his evil covers, Viktalia had rounded up the ten crew that were not sleeping on ship the night before... all had been in the same inn as Siran, fortunately. </p><p></p><p>“Viesel said three ships,” Hrik said breathlessly in response. The poor boy had run down from the warforged’s sniper point to report the information. “He says that one ship is bigger than the others. I think its the elves. If its the elves, everything is going to go bad. They weren’t supposed to come like this. I have a gun. I can shoot it. Icanhelpyououtright? Right?”</p><p></p><p>Siran ignored the boy’s questions, raising his own telescope and looking out to sea. “Three ships,” Siran rumbled a moment later, snapping the telescope shut. For a moment, the captain in him took over, and he barked several more orders to get the ship underway as quick as possible, cursing up a storm to encourage the rather tired and somewhat hung-over crew to hurry.</p><p></p><p>“Gods be damned!” Siran heard Viktalia say, and for a moment, the cleric agreed with the Formoteran. Siran spun back around, looked through his telescope again, and growled.</p><p></p><p>“Three ships!? All three ships have returned!?” Siran hissed to himself a moment later. The sail had now grown larger, revealing itself to be a large ship with at least three masts... something easily as large as Kaled’s cromster, if not larger. Beneath the sea of white canvas hung a long and low hull, its sides painted green, its gunports painted brilliant red. Siran gulped as he counted eight blood red spots on one side of the large ship.</p><p></p><p><em>Sixteen guns there... and they’re probably bigger than ours, on top of being bronze...</em> </p><p></p><p>On each side of the larger ship came two smaller vessels, only two masts each, like the <em>Spotted Pinnace</em>. Their hulls, following elven tradition, were also painted brightly, this time a searing sky blue. Siran couldn’t count their guns just yet, but eh safely guessed each ship could easily hold as many guns as the <em>Spotted Pinnace,</em> in a worst case scenario.</p><p></p><p><em>So at worst... we’ve got 24 guns, counting the pieces on Kaled’s ship,</em> Siran quickly added in his head. <em>And they have... 32, some of which, at least, are larger than our own. And at least some of the guns are bronze.</em> He winced, and decided he needed to leave the math behind for someone like Hrik.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Visiel quietly ordered the four other sharpshooters with him to check their weapons, as his glowing eyes glared at the oncoming ships. He squinted, and frowned again.</p><p></p><p><em>The large ship... its larger than Lieutenant Kaled’s!</em></p><p></p><p>The warforged raised his gun, and shots again rang out over the harbor.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“What is Viesel doing now?!” Siran turned and snarled, alarmed and annoyed, before raising his fist towards the bluffs above. “Dammit! Stop wasting ammunition! We know there’s something dangerous out there!”</p><p></p><p><em>What could Viesel have noticed that would’ve made him fire his gun again?</em> Viktalia thought. It definitely was not like the warforged to brazenly waste ammunition... there was some purpose to his firing of the guns. <em>We know there are three ships... unless there’s a horde of tiny other ships, the only thing could be...</em></p><p></p><p>“The big ship is larger than Kaled’s,” Viktalia thought aloud. <em>Worst case... three ships, heavily armed with many crews, versus our lightly crewed and comparatively lightly armed ships...</em> Several whispered curses rang from her lips.</p><p></p><p>“Probably has a hundred crew,” Siran whispered back after hearing her words. “We can’t fight that firepower! We’ve got only twenty here, and maybe another twenty on Kaled’s ship! Bah!”</p><p></p><p></p><p>“We need a distraction,” Viktalia stated the obvious, and Siran nodded. The cleric looked down for a second as the <em>Spotted Pinnace</em> lurched forward, the first wind catching into her sails. Suddenly, he looked up, an idea in his eyes.</p><p></p><p>“Hey!” he barked to the few townspeople gathered to see them off, “get Lady Rowena! Tell her if she’s such a druid, to make a illusion or fogbank or something to get those some of those ships to head away!” Several of the townsfolk turned and dashed away, in pursuit of the druid.</p><p></p><p>“What? Why?” Viktalia asked sharply. “She’s supposed to be helping Viesel once we pin the elves in the harbor!” <em>What about our trap? It’s still possible to pin the three elven ships here...</em></p><p></p><p>“There won’t be any trap. They’ve probably seen our ships already,” the cleric replied grimly, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t spring something different on them.”</p><p></p><p>“But why fog?” the bard persisted, “why not try to have her make an illusion of another ship? A fogbank won’t attract...”</p><p></p><p>“Oh yes it will,” Siran cut her off, the grimness still in his voice, but a slight smile was now on his lips. “If you saw several ships in harbor, then saw a fogbank creeping away from the harbor... a small fogbank, an obvious fogbank, one large enough it could still hide a small warship...”</p><p></p><p>“Oh...” Viktalia stopped, a smile starting to form on her own lips. <em>Brilliant!</em></p><p></p><p>“If we can get either the big ship or the two little ones to chase after the fog, we can run down the other group... and stand a fighting chance,” the cleric paused, as he looked through his telescope again. “The big ship’s got sixteen guns... it looks like the smaller ones have ten apiece. If they split...”</p><p></p><p>“Siran...I might have underestimated you a bit,” Viktalia grinned. <em>Devious and impressive!</em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><em>She looks very stately up there on that ridge,</em> Siran thought about ten minutes later, looking up at Rowena as the druid raised her arms towards the sea. The wind flapped against her silk, making it billow behind her as she called on the powers of the ocean itself, her voice distant, but rising in a melodic chant that seemed to almost soothe his ears. <em>I bet she was a real looker when she was herself... before she was cursed,</em> the cleric mused momentarily. It was a welcome distraction.</p><p></p><p>To the side of the <em>Spotted Pinnace</em>, Kaled’s <em>Black Joke</em> was already building up speed, racing past the smaller ship, before turning sharply to starboard, a move that would take her towards the east, and a small cove east of the town. The <em>Spotted Pinnace</em> followed suit, both ships raising full sail, their act of being panicked merchantmen in full swing.</p><p></p><p>As Siran watched intently, behind them the small elven flotilla seemed to stop, before finally they raised sail again, turning steadily towards the party’s two vessels. Then suddenly, in front of the harbor, the sea began to boil. Steam began to billow from the harbor depths, growing deeper and stronger, until a bank of fog, perhaps 50 feet wide and 20 feet tall at its highest, obscured a section of the sea. Siran blinked in surprise, as the fogbank slowly began to move, further and further down the coast in the opposite direction from where the two real ships were sailing.</p><p></p><p>After a few minutes, the largest elven ship seemed to pull in her sails, as her two smaller companions piled on canvas, and spun away from the <em>Spotted Pinnace</em> and <em>Black Joke</em> towards the now rapidly moving fogbank.</p><p></p><p><em>They’re going after the fogbank.</em> Siran was miffed that the big ship wasn’t chasing the fog... they stood a better chance, he thought, against two smaller ships than one big one, but even now, at least they stood a chance.</p><p></p><p>“Boys! Pull down the sails! Make it look sloppy!” Siran shouted, not caring that the last part of the order probably wasn’t necessary. <em>We need to look panicked, scared, as if we don’t know what to do... lure the big ship closer...</em> “Helm, turn us 20 degrees to port!” <em>Just enough that when we stop, our broadside will be facing the elven bastard...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Now... to hope that Rowena’s dog can go on long enough to keep those other elves away...</em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Viktalia too, watched the large elven ship as it slowly made its way towards them, its triangular lanteen sails only half unfurled.</p><p></p><p>“Why are they coming so slowly?” she asked, annoyed and afraid. <em>Do they suspect a trap?</em> She hurriedly looked down, confirming that the <em>Spotted Pinnace</em>’s gunports were closed. <em>How can they suspect a trap? They’re whole-heartedly chasing down Rowena’s fogbank... but they’re only lazily coming this way!</em></p><p></p><p>A few minutes later, the elven ship furled the last of its sails, and everyone on board the <em>Spotted Pinnace</em> gave a collective groan.</p><p></p><p><em>Dammit...</em> Viktalia cursed, fear and adrenaline running through her veins. <em>They know something is up! They know it!</em> At any moment, she expected the elven ship to use the last of its coasting speed to turn, bringing its long range guns to bear...</p><p></p><p>Instead, she heard Siran’s excited voice shout, “She’s dropping a longboat!”</p><p></p><p><em>A longboat only has ten or twelve people on board. Why are they dropping a longboat and sending it our way unless...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>...they think we’re not worth the trouble of bringing their ship over?</em></p><p></p><p>“They bought our merchant ruse!” Viktalia blurted out excitedly. “They think we’re weak, so they’re only sending a longboat!”</p><p></p><p>“You really think so?” Siran asked guardedly, his spyglass on the tiny rowboat as it approached. “There’s only eight people in the boat. I don’t have a high opinion of elves, mind you, but elves can’t be that stupid.”</p><p></p><p>“These are... now what do we do about them? If they get on board, they’ll know we aren’t merchant ships really...”</p><p></p><p>“We can’t use our cannon... that’s far to obvious to the mother ship, and she could call back the two others,” Siran thought aloud. At the mentioning of the two others, Viktalia grabbed Siran’s telescope and checked. The other elven ships were now racing around a small rock promontory, to the west of the town. Quickly, they disappeared from sight.</p><p></p><p>“The other elven ships are gone,” Viktalia added. <em>The large elven ship is quite far off... they might not see clearly if a few of us take pot-shots at the longboat when it draws near. If that’s the case...</em></p><p></p><p>“Siran, you think we should just shoot the longboat with some muskets?” <em>It’d get rid of these slavers quickly!</em> Now that she was sure the big ship wasn’t promptly ready to destroy them, and that she’d already had a taste of combat, Viktalia’s jitters were quickly disappearing. “I think I could take out the one in front, whose wearing something shiny...”</p><p></p><p>“No,” the captain replied rather suddenly.</p><p></p><p>“No? Why? You just said they can’t board us!” Viktalia said in confusion. “If they get on board...”</p><p></p><p>“They won’t,” the cleric grinned. “I have something special for them.”</p><p></p><p>Slowly, agonizingly, Viktalia watched the longboat draw closer and closer. As the longboat approached, Viktalia could make out its crew a little better... about ten elves manning the oars, each with a wicked curved scimitar and a pistol at each of their sides. At the prow of the longboat stood a single officer, resplendent in full silver armor, a gold hilted longsword on his hip. As the longboat closed, the officer raised a ship’s horn to his mouth. It too was ornate, with ironically peaceful patterns of leaves across its commanding form.</p><p></p><p>“Heave to!” a lilting, almost darkly musical voice called, its accent twisted the words of Common into something strange. “This is First Spear Elwin Midras of the elven ship <em>Mithril Seas</em>! You are now our prize of war! Heave your ships to, and prepare for boarding! We will take you out to the <em>Mithril Seas</em> where you will receive good treatment!”</p><p></p><p><em>Good treatment? Treatment as good as slaves?</em> Viktalia wanted to growl, anger building up. <em>You call burning a town good treatment!? Killing these people good treatment!?</em> Itchily, the bard pulled out her pistol, hiding it behind her back.</p><p></p><p>“...resistance will be met with devastating firepower! Heave to, and prepare to be boarded!”</p><p></p><p>“Prepare for boarding my ass!” snarled back under her breath. She looked at Siran, expecting the captain to have his blunderbuss out already... but instead, the cleric was quietly praying on the deck of the ship. Frustrated, Viktalia whipped out her own pistol and took aim.</p><p></p><p>“Prepare for this!” she shouted, aiming for the head of the officer.</p><p></p><p>And all hell broke loose.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 2621799, member: 15043"] [b]Unexpected Guests[/b] Viesel stood rigidly, telescope in hand, scanning the horizon as the next day began to dawn. Everyone had insisted the night before that he help rebuild the fort, but Viesel had balked. [i]I have sharp eyes. Enemies can arrive early. I am best suited to watch for them, until the sun has arisen and human eyes can see as well as mine.[/i] He’d argued the same point the night before, and persuaded his superiors to agree. As he scanned the horizon, looking for threats, his eyes spotted something indistinct, just to the left of the rising sun. He raised his telescope, shielding it partly from the blazing light, and looked just long enough to see a speck of white. [i]This is not good.[/i] There was an old adage in the Imperial army, that no plan survived contact with the enemy. [i]Especially if the enemy arrives early,[/i] the warforged thought, quickly loading a charge into his rifle, and firing a blast into the air. A half-minute later, he fired the gun again. [i]Two shots... danger![/i] Siran grumbled, and tried to pull the covers over his head, only to have something hold them in place. He tugged again, and still the light kept attacking his eyes. Finally, he sat up, rubbed them, and squinted, looking about the room. Laying next to him was the woman he’d ‘checked’ the night before, her arm keeping her half of the covers firmly in place. He was about to wake her up, to see if any more ‘medical tests’ needed to be done, when he heard two sharp [i]cracks[/i] echoing through the window. [i]Gunshots... Viesel![/i] Immediately training kicked in, and he leapt from the bed, only to stumble and fall to the ground as his feet got tangled in the covers. Twisting and turning like a pro, he tangled himself even more, as his companion rolled over and sleepily whined for quiet. “Anias’ flaming... toothpick... bloody... flaming!” the cleric twisted, freely his arm only to entrap his legs even more. Finally, with an enormous kick, he forced himself free and leapt to his feet, just in time to see the door to his rather seedy inn-room thrown wide open. “Gah!” Viktalia backed away, shielding her eyes from the unholy horror that was Siran uncovered, “Put some clothes on!” By the grimace on her face, it looked as if she’d seen the ugliest ghost in existence “Sirraaaannn?” the woman’s sleepy voice whined again, “Its eeaaarlyyy...” “I’m trying to!” the cleric fired back, donning his trousers hurriedly and cursing on the names of various pagan gods. “Damn stupid Pelor’s flaming...” As Viktalia groaned again in complaint, Siran looked up at her, pulling on his tunic. “You’re not helping!” “How can I help when I’ve been scarred for life?” the bard fired back, still shielding her eyes. “Sirraaaan!” the woman whined, “Not noooowww. It’s eaaarlyyy...” “Your money’s on the dresser,” the cleric said hurriedly, buckling on his breastplate before blowing the half-sleep and confused woman a kiss. “It was a fun time, may we meet again, and yes, you are definitely cured!” he called, before dashing out of the room. “Gah,” Viktalia groaned, following him. “How many?” the cleric asked about ten minutes later, shouts and orders ringing across the docks as both the [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i] and Kaled’s [i]Black Joke[/i] prepared to hurriedly put to sea. While Siran had struggled to escape the webs of his evil covers, Viktalia had rounded up the ten crew that were not sleeping on ship the night before... all had been in the same inn as Siran, fortunately. “Viesel said three ships,” Hrik said breathlessly in response. The poor boy had run down from the warforged’s sniper point to report the information. “He says that one ship is bigger than the others. I think its the elves. If its the elves, everything is going to go bad. They weren’t supposed to come like this. I have a gun. I can shoot it. Icanhelpyououtright? Right?” Siran ignored the boy’s questions, raising his own telescope and looking out to sea. “Three ships,” Siran rumbled a moment later, snapping the telescope shut. For a moment, the captain in him took over, and he barked several more orders to get the ship underway as quick as possible, cursing up a storm to encourage the rather tired and somewhat hung-over crew to hurry. “Gods be damned!” Siran heard Viktalia say, and for a moment, the cleric agreed with the Formoteran. Siran spun back around, looked through his telescope again, and growled. “Three ships!? All three ships have returned!?” Siran hissed to himself a moment later. The sail had now grown larger, revealing itself to be a large ship with at least three masts... something easily as large as Kaled’s cromster, if not larger. Beneath the sea of white canvas hung a long and low hull, its sides painted green, its gunports painted brilliant red. Siran gulped as he counted eight blood red spots on one side of the large ship. [i]Sixteen guns there... and they’re probably bigger than ours, on top of being bronze...[/i] On each side of the larger ship came two smaller vessels, only two masts each, like the [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i]. Their hulls, following elven tradition, were also painted brightly, this time a searing sky blue. Siran couldn’t count their guns just yet, but eh safely guessed each ship could easily hold as many guns as the [i]Spotted Pinnace,[/i] in a worst case scenario. [i]So at worst... we’ve got 24 guns, counting the pieces on Kaled’s ship,[/i] Siran quickly added in his head. [i]And they have... 32, some of which, at least, are larger than our own. And at least some of the guns are bronze.[/i] He winced, and decided he needed to leave the math behind for someone like Hrik. Visiel quietly ordered the four other sharpshooters with him to check their weapons, as his glowing eyes glared at the oncoming ships. He squinted, and frowned again. [i]The large ship... its larger than Lieutenant Kaled’s![/i] The warforged raised his gun, and shots again rang out over the harbor. “What is Viesel doing now?!” Siran turned and snarled, alarmed and annoyed, before raising his fist towards the bluffs above. “Dammit! Stop wasting ammunition! We know there’s something dangerous out there!” [i]What could Viesel have noticed that would’ve made him fire his gun again?[/i] Viktalia thought. It definitely was not like the warforged to brazenly waste ammunition... there was some purpose to his firing of the guns. [i]We know there are three ships... unless there’s a horde of tiny other ships, the only thing could be...[/i] “The big ship is larger than Kaled’s,” Viktalia thought aloud. [i]Worst case... three ships, heavily armed with many crews, versus our lightly crewed and comparatively lightly armed ships...[/i] Several whispered curses rang from her lips. “Probably has a hundred crew,” Siran whispered back after hearing her words. “We can’t fight that firepower! We’ve got only twenty here, and maybe another twenty on Kaled’s ship! Bah!” “We need a distraction,” Viktalia stated the obvious, and Siran nodded. The cleric looked down for a second as the [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i] lurched forward, the first wind catching into her sails. Suddenly, he looked up, an idea in his eyes. “Hey!” he barked to the few townspeople gathered to see them off, “get Lady Rowena! Tell her if she’s such a druid, to make a illusion or fogbank or something to get those some of those ships to head away!” Several of the townsfolk turned and dashed away, in pursuit of the druid. “What? Why?” Viktalia asked sharply. “She’s supposed to be helping Viesel once we pin the elves in the harbor!” [i]What about our trap? It’s still possible to pin the three elven ships here...[/i] “There won’t be any trap. They’ve probably seen our ships already,” the cleric replied grimly, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t spring something different on them.” “But why fog?” the bard persisted, “why not try to have her make an illusion of another ship? A fogbank won’t attract...” “Oh yes it will,” Siran cut her off, the grimness still in his voice, but a slight smile was now on his lips. “If you saw several ships in harbor, then saw a fogbank creeping away from the harbor... a small fogbank, an obvious fogbank, one large enough it could still hide a small warship...” “Oh...” Viktalia stopped, a smile starting to form on her own lips. [i]Brilliant![/i] “If we can get either the big ship or the two little ones to chase after the fog, we can run down the other group... and stand a fighting chance,” the cleric paused, as he looked through his telescope again. “The big ship’s got sixteen guns... it looks like the smaller ones have ten apiece. If they split...” “Siran...I might have underestimated you a bit,” Viktalia grinned. [i]Devious and impressive![/i] [i]She looks very stately up there on that ridge,[/i] Siran thought about ten minutes later, looking up at Rowena as the druid raised her arms towards the sea. The wind flapped against her silk, making it billow behind her as she called on the powers of the ocean itself, her voice distant, but rising in a melodic chant that seemed to almost soothe his ears. [i]I bet she was a real looker when she was herself... before she was cursed,[/i] the cleric mused momentarily. It was a welcome distraction. To the side of the [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i], Kaled’s [i]Black Joke[/i] was already building up speed, racing past the smaller ship, before turning sharply to starboard, a move that would take her towards the east, and a small cove east of the town. The [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i] followed suit, both ships raising full sail, their act of being panicked merchantmen in full swing. As Siran watched intently, behind them the small elven flotilla seemed to stop, before finally they raised sail again, turning steadily towards the party’s two vessels. Then suddenly, in front of the harbor, the sea began to boil. Steam began to billow from the harbor depths, growing deeper and stronger, until a bank of fog, perhaps 50 feet wide and 20 feet tall at its highest, obscured a section of the sea. Siran blinked in surprise, as the fogbank slowly began to move, further and further down the coast in the opposite direction from where the two real ships were sailing. After a few minutes, the largest elven ship seemed to pull in her sails, as her two smaller companions piled on canvas, and spun away from the [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i] and [i]Black Joke[/i] towards the now rapidly moving fogbank. [i]They’re going after the fogbank.[/i] Siran was miffed that the big ship wasn’t chasing the fog... they stood a better chance, he thought, against two smaller ships than one big one, but even now, at least they stood a chance. “Boys! Pull down the sails! Make it look sloppy!” Siran shouted, not caring that the last part of the order probably wasn’t necessary. [i]We need to look panicked, scared, as if we don’t know what to do... lure the big ship closer...[/i] “Helm, turn us 20 degrees to port!” [i]Just enough that when we stop, our broadside will be facing the elven bastard... Now... to hope that Rowena’s dog can go on long enough to keep those other elves away...[/i] Viktalia too, watched the large elven ship as it slowly made its way towards them, its triangular lanteen sails only half unfurled. “Why are they coming so slowly?” she asked, annoyed and afraid. [i]Do they suspect a trap?[/i] She hurriedly looked down, confirming that the [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i]’s gunports were closed. [i]How can they suspect a trap? They’re whole-heartedly chasing down Rowena’s fogbank... but they’re only lazily coming this way![/i] A few minutes later, the elven ship furled the last of its sails, and everyone on board the [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i] gave a collective groan. [i]Dammit...[/i] Viktalia cursed, fear and adrenaline running through her veins. [i]They know something is up! They know it![/i] At any moment, she expected the elven ship to use the last of its coasting speed to turn, bringing its long range guns to bear... Instead, she heard Siran’s excited voice shout, “She’s dropping a longboat!” [i]A longboat only has ten or twelve people on board. Why are they dropping a longboat and sending it our way unless... ...they think we’re not worth the trouble of bringing their ship over?[/i] “They bought our merchant ruse!” Viktalia blurted out excitedly. “They think we’re weak, so they’re only sending a longboat!” “You really think so?” Siran asked guardedly, his spyglass on the tiny rowboat as it approached. “There’s only eight people in the boat. I don’t have a high opinion of elves, mind you, but elves can’t be that stupid.” “These are... now what do we do about them? If they get on board, they’ll know we aren’t merchant ships really...” “We can’t use our cannon... that’s far to obvious to the mother ship, and she could call back the two others,” Siran thought aloud. At the mentioning of the two others, Viktalia grabbed Siran’s telescope and checked. The other elven ships were now racing around a small rock promontory, to the west of the town. Quickly, they disappeared from sight. “The other elven ships are gone,” Viktalia added. [i]The large elven ship is quite far off... they might not see clearly if a few of us take pot-shots at the longboat when it draws near. If that’s the case...[/i] “Siran, you think we should just shoot the longboat with some muskets?” [i]It’d get rid of these slavers quickly![/i] Now that she was sure the big ship wasn’t promptly ready to destroy them, and that she’d already had a taste of combat, Viktalia’s jitters were quickly disappearing. “I think I could take out the one in front, whose wearing something shiny...” “No,” the captain replied rather suddenly. “No? Why? You just said they can’t board us!” Viktalia said in confusion. “If they get on board...” “They won’t,” the cleric grinned. “I have something special for them.” Slowly, agonizingly, Viktalia watched the longboat draw closer and closer. As the longboat approached, Viktalia could make out its crew a little better... about ten elves manning the oars, each with a wicked curved scimitar and a pistol at each of their sides. At the prow of the longboat stood a single officer, resplendent in full silver armor, a gold hilted longsword on his hip. As the longboat closed, the officer raised a ship’s horn to his mouth. It too was ornate, with ironically peaceful patterns of leaves across its commanding form. “Heave to!” a lilting, almost darkly musical voice called, its accent twisted the words of Common into something strange. “This is First Spear Elwin Midras of the elven ship [i]Mithril Seas[/i]! You are now our prize of war! Heave your ships to, and prepare for boarding! We will take you out to the [i]Mithril Seas[/i] where you will receive good treatment!” [i]Good treatment? Treatment as good as slaves?[/i] Viktalia wanted to growl, anger building up. [i]You call burning a town good treatment!? Killing these people good treatment!?[/i] Itchily, the bard pulled out her pistol, hiding it behind her back. “...resistance will be met with devastating firepower! Heave to, and prepare to be boarded!” “Prepare for boarding my ass!” snarled back under her breath. She looked at Siran, expecting the captain to have his blunderbuss out already... but instead, the cleric was quietly praying on the deck of the ship. Frustrated, Viktalia whipped out her own pistol and took aim. “Prepare for this!” she shouted, aiming for the head of the officer. And all hell broke loose. [/QUOTE]
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High Seas Shenanigans (Updated: 12/04/05)
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