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Sails of Dread

Feel like burning like a bright wizard? Being as green as a gobbo? Robust like an Ironbreaker? Bloodthirsty like a witch elf? Feel free to speak as them here.
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Senlui
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Sails of Dread

Post#1 » Sun Feb 14, 2021 12:37 pm

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“Get down!” cried a shrill voice, barely audible over the sounds of cannon-fire bursting from an Imperial galleon flanking the Druchii vessel. Plumes of smoke erupted from the guns below the deck of the much larger ship, flashes of powder strobing,as the ships rocked upon the choppy sea bordering the coastline of Hargendorf. It had been folly to sail this far into the territory of Men, but the Captain had been convinced somehow to do so, be it through bribery, blackmail, or simply threats of violence.

The corsair fleet had struck six settlements along the Nordland coast in as many days, leaving behind a trail of destruction; each town stripped of anything of value and left as a scene of slaughter. Six days they had rampaged against a poor defence, before the seventh had brought more worthy opposition. From the east a galleon of fine build had come, her white sails pulling her black-painted hulk through the waves to liberate the people of Nordland from this terror of the seas. At first sight of her masts, the other four ships of the Druchii fleet had made the decision to change their course, and seek bounty elsewhere. But not this one.

Lord Borkor watched the battle from the upper deck of Hope’s Ruin. Sent and funded by his father, the coin bestowed to the corsair fleet had granted the young Druchii a certain degree of power, but with it the expectations that he would be fruitful in his expedition. The Lordling was determined to return to the port city of Clar Karond with a well-filled hold, enabling him to present a hefty bounty to the Drachau at the time of Hanil Khar, and gain favour for both himself and his House. Hungry for renown and glory, he had discarded the Captain’s advice and urged they stand and fight the enemy rather than take advantage of the Druchii ship’s superior speed and evade direct combat. Victory here would provide more livestock for the slave markets as well as any other goods aboard the galleon that might be plundered. With the rest of the fleet now specks behind them on the horizon, they would make their stand here. Victory was the only option. Wearing a heavy suit of armour and gripping a pair of hooked swords, he eagerly awaited the opportunity to board the enemy warship.

With a whoosh, a bolt thrower launched a long steel shaft into the side of the Empire galleon near the waterline. It was immediately targeted by the cannon battery of the warship, a cannonball splitting the blackened wood of the deck with a crash before being carried into the Druchii weapon and tearing it and two of its crew apart. Borkor cursed at the loss of the weapon and called an order for those manning the remaining five bolt throwers to redouble their efforts as he stepped down onto the lower deck to join the Captain who was maintaining calm amongst the slaves chained to the oars with sharp cracks of his barbed whip.

“Hold steady, you worthless scum!” the Captain shouted, his whip splitting the skin across the back of a human who screamed in agony at the blow. Noting Borkor’s approach, he growled to the Lordling “This is folly, my lord. We cannot stand against such a ship.”

“Do you question my orders?” Borkor replied angrily, the ship juddering as a cannonball hit the port side. “You do know what happens to mutineers, don’t you?”

“No my lord, I mean yes.” The Captain replied, his grimy brow glistening with sweat. “The rest of the fleet has moved on. We are alone and outgunned.”

“The others are cowards. Their reputations shall be forever scarred by their actions. For us shall come victory and a great prize once we take command of that warship.” Borkor mused in reply, hungry for battle.

“If you say so.” The Captain responded understanding the Lordling’s reasoning. Pickings had been poor so far but he believed this had made Borkor reckless and impatient. And now the Lordling’s decision had placed Hope’s Ruin and all aboard her in a most unfavourable position. He bitterly thought of ways of being rid of the noble, wondering if they would survive their sea battle at all as a cannonball brought down the aft sail, splitting the mast which crashed down at the rear of the oarsmen crushing many to death. Cheers were carried across from the human vessel and were met with roars and curses as a volley of bolts answered in return from the corsair ship.

“Keep her steady and we’ll...” Borkor was interrupted mid sentence as he was grabbed and thrown to the deck, a cannon roaring by and reaping carnage out of a row of oarsmen, chained to their benches and unable to evade the shot.

The Lordling grabbed hold of the one responsible for knocking him down, rolling him on to his back and raising a sword, the spiked pommel ready to be brought down to deliver a death blow against a temple.

“Captain, have this clumsy bastard nailed to the mast!” He snarled, his face twisted with rage.

The Druchii beneath Borkor hissed a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

The corsair shrugged an arm to his right and Borkor followed the line of the gesture to see the Captain, or what was left of him less than a foot away. He had taken the full impact of the cannonball, his head and the top of his torso torn away from his body and reduced to a bloody smear across the deck.

Borkor let go of his sword and grabbed the corsair that had thrown him down by his arms and slammed him hard against the deck, reeling from how close he had just come to being killed. Had this miserable Druchii not intervened he would have shared the Captain’s fate.

“How dare you touch a Highborn!” He roared, punching the corsair in the face twice. “Where is the second in command?”

“Dead, m’lord.” Replied the elf.

“Then get up and take over,” ordered the Lordling as he rose to his feet. “What is your name, dog?”

“Kasayth, m’lord.” came the reply as the corsair picked himself up, nursing a bloody nose.

“It’s Captain Kasayth now. Get us out of this mess.” Borkor growled, as he took account of the damage to the ship, noting that the mainsail was now ablaze.

“Aye. All we need now is a sea dragon and a flock of harpies.” replied Kasayth. Borkor glared at the Druchii, not sure whether he was ridiculing him or was just immensely dim.

“I don’t care how you do it, just get on with it.” the Lordling snapped back, turning and heading back to the upper deck.

Kasayth grinned, hardly believing his luck. He prized the Captain’s whip from his lifeless hand and snapped it above his head to get the crew’s attention over the din of screams, cannon fire, and bolt shots. “You heard him you savages, now get to it!”


“Turn hard to port!” Kasayth shouted, thinking to lessen the target area of their vessel. By wheeling around, only the stern would be vulnerable and whilst they made a sweep away from the larger galleon, opportunity would be granted to shoot several volleys of bolts at the enemy.

He was enjoying the feeling of new found power until, “We can’t Kas... Captain. Rudder’s come loose.”

Kasayth hurried to the stern, shoving his way through a frenzied mob of corsairs tearing down the burning mainsail with hooked poles and casting the flaming cloth overboard. He scrambled up the steps to the ship’s wheel. Lord Borkor threw him a questioning gaze, Kasayth responding with a reassuring nod and smile, before clenching his teeth and grabbing the Druchii on the wheel by his matted topknot. The Druchii looked to the Captain with alarm, his adam’s apple bobbing as he felt the tip of a knife below his ear.

“What do ya mean Rudder’s come loose?” snarled Kasayth, just low enough to be out of earshot of the Lordling.

“Loose Captain... or rather, gone.”

Kasayth released the corsair and stomped to the back rail. Leaning over the edge, he could see the damage. The rudder hung from its chain in smashed fragments, useless and ruined. He sighed to himself and returned to the wheel.

“When did this happen?”

“A fair while ago...”

“You mean to tell me that you just stood there pretending to steer the ship?”

“That’s the measure of it, Captain. He’d have thrown me over the side.” The corsair replied, gesturing to Borkor who was beginning to look interested in the scene at the wheel.

“What’s to say I won’t chuck you overboard, idiot?” Kasayth questioned, grabbing the corsair’s topknot again.

“Release me and I’ll save you the bother.” The Druchii replied ruefully, thinking it better to leap into the icy waves and escape a slow and painful death.

Kasayth let go of the corsair’s hair, thinking the situation through. “You’re Jerek’s son, aren’t you?”

“Aye Kasayth, second eldest, Ranal.”

“Well Ranal, if we’re going to get out of this alive, you just keep doing what you’re doing.”

The corsair nodded his understanding, turning the wheel anticlockwise.

“Is anything amiss?” queried Borkor, stepping confidently towards them.

“Don’t bother yourself m’lord, in all this excitement this oaf forgot his port from his starboard.” Kasayth replied, smacking the back of Ranal’s head, causing the corsair to yelp. The Lordling raised a brow, thinking them both incompetent, and to their relief returned to watching the battle.

It was then that one of the corsairs on the deck noticed something and shouted a warning cry whilst pointing at the enemy vessel. Kasayth followed his gaze and paled at the sight before him. The Druchii had been barraged by a single deck’s worth of cannon fire, but now hatches were opening on what must be the deck above. Loaded cannons were wheeled forwards as the Druchii shot reaver bolters and crossbows at the enemy ship. One by one, twelve cannons shot a barrage of munitions at the smaller Druchii vessel, the noise of the guns blasting only seconds before their vessel shuddered with the impacts. The screams of the wounded were joined by the sound of the ship creaking.

“Breach in the hold!” Yelled a voice from the slave deck.

Kasayth ran down from the upper deck to look at the damage, thinking this promotion wasn’t going so well. “How bad is it?”

A one-eyed corsair, his face scarred by a hefty diagonal wound, gestured behind him, where three cannons had punched through the side. The slaves began to panic as water gushed in, the vessel already starting to lean.

Lord Borkor had come down to see for himself, his face a mask of anger and dismay. His hakseer cruise had taken a definite turn for the worse. Kasayth took a swig from his wine flask.

“She won’t stay afloat for long.”

Lord Borkor floundered for words. No amount of threatening or violence would prevent the ship from sinking. “So do you have any ideas?”

Kasayth stroked his chin, his icy eyes narrowing in thought, before a desperate smile spread across his face. “There’s only one thing for it now. We board the bastards!”
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Marric
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Re: Sails of Dread

Post#2 » Thu Mar 04, 2021 7:12 pm

Great story Sen! Can we expect follow up?
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Dabbart
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Re: Sails of Dread

Post#3 » Thu Mar 04, 2021 7:30 pm

"You mean to tell me that you just stood there pretending to steer the ship?”

“That’s the measure of it, Captain. He’d have thrown me over the side.”

Hahahaha!

Well written. Keep it coming!
Azarael wrote: It's only a nerf if you're bad.

(see, I can shitpost too!)
Secrets wrote: Kindly adjust your attitude to actually help the community and do not impose your will on it. You aren't as powerful as you think.

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Senlui
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Re: Sails of Dread

Post#4 » Fri Mar 05, 2021 7:02 pm

Thanks both, yes there definitely will be more!

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Senlui
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Re: Sails of Dread

Post#5 » Sat Mar 06, 2021 7:30 pm

One by one muzzles flashed as the row of cannons fired upon the stricken corsair ship, splintering deck, shredding flesh, and shattering bone, drumming their percussion of battle. From the corsair raiding ship below, screams of pain and defiance rose above the deafening din of the enemy galleon’s guns. Wounded by iron ball and grapeshot, Hope’s Ruin leaned further to her port side with anguished creaks of wood, straining to hold herself together as water poured in through the broken hull.

“We’ve pissed ‘em off...” breathed a corsair, looking up to the doom upon them as he loaded his handheld crossbow and spat on the deck beneath the shadow of the much larger ship looming over them.

“We’re going to piss them off a lot more before we’re done,” snarled Kasayth grimly, defiance flashing in his eyes, his lips widening into a crazed grin. “Release the livestock!”

The corsair looked to his newly promoted Captain with a curious expression, wondering what he had in mind. There was a madness in their predicament, all reason sailed away with the rest of their fleet, and they left to fight or die in the aftermath. Who best to lead them through such a storm, than an utter madman?

“Aye, Captain.”

Brushing his matted hair from his eyes and over his shoulders, the Druchii clipped his crossbow to his back and dashed across towards the galley, bounding over casualties where they lay sprawled across the gore-streaked deck. Reaching the steps to the lower deck and the benches, he found it half submerged, the slaves on one side of the ship now floating lifelessly beneath the water, their ankles still chained to their benches holding them from drifting free. Still connected to the dead by their shackles, those that were still alive clambered to stay above water, gripping the benches or climbing over their ill-fated companions with wails of panicked anguish knowing the fate that would soon befall them as the rising brine steadily advanced.

“Enough whining, you dogs!” roared the corsair, slowing as he reached the lock, unclipping the end link. The chain began to slide free, snaking effortlessly through ankle shackles as the slaves scrambled to free themselves. Some had served for years, others were more recent additions to the ranks that drove the ship forward, captured from the northern coasts of the Empire, and already had seen more horror in these few weeks than the sum of their lives before.

“Round them up!” Kasayth shouted.

Druchii guided their stumbling and confused quarry into a tight group on the deck, encouraging them with jabs of blades or a blow from a cudgel. Their bodies weak and overworked, they staggered into a huddle together, no spirit left to fight.

Another boom of cannon fire, and Hope’s Ruin leaned violently with a juddering groan, falling into the side of the galleon. The remains of the masts were all that stopped her from tipping fully as they crashed against the starboard side of the larger ship, balancing the Druchii vessel precariously under the motion of the waves. Goods rolled into the water, their bolters fell into the sea, crew held on to anything fixed down to prevent themselves from sliding overboard. Flames devoured the starboard side, smoke thick and cutting with each breath, with nowhere to go but up, Kasayth reasoned.

On the deck above, men were lining up with guns pointing down at them, taking shots at the Druchii. Victory was theirs.

“Hold your fire!” Kasayth called, over the din in Reikspiel, his Naggarothi accent thick upon his tongue, then calling an order in his own language, “Lower crossbows!”

Above, the men looked unsure as an Officer joined them, observing what would happen next, not yet obeying the request as rifles cracked more shots down at the raiders.

Lord Borkor, somehow still alive, stormed towards Kasayth, his face twisted with fury. “What are you doing? We attack!”

“Well if you want to lead the charge, be my guest,” Kasayth suggested in reply, his expression cool, but struggling to conceal his sickness of this privileged noble’s blustering presence.

“I’ll have you flayed alive when we reach land.”

“If we reach land,” corrected Kasayth, as a burning beam came crashing down, spraying the deck with cinders and flame.

The gravity of the situation seemed then to settle upon the Highborn, Kasayth taking advantage of this to lean close. “Listen, we’re up to our necks in it. You want to stay alive, hmm? Then listen to me, and bloody pay attention.”

Borkor opened his mouth as if to argue, but was caught by the surprise of Kasayth interrupting by thrusting a pointed finger towards his face, “I mean it. I’ve seen plenty of your sort, and it never ends well for ‘em.”

“Now follow me to the main mast, and keep your mouth shut.”

Borkor was stunned by how audacious this sea rat conducted himself. His fists trembled with anger, yet he followed, weaving across the deck through smoke and bullets. Perhaps it was through the shock of being spoken to in such a manner? Or perhaps he realised this whelp was his best chance of survival?

“I said hold fire!” Kasayth yelled, again in Reikspiel. “You want your cripples back?”

The slaves were being moved towards the fore mast, and one by one began to crawl along it, climbing towards their sanctuary. The Officer finally saw what was happening, and raised his hand, commanding the men to stop shooting. Atop the galleon’s deck, two crew began to lower a rope ladder down the side, to meet the top of the wedged mast and assist the evacuation.

One of the galley slaves made it, pulled up and into the arms of one of the galleon’s crew as his legs finally gave way beneath him. The second would appear to weep as he was liberated from his ordeal, and gaunt faces finally began to flicker with hope as they moved as quickly as they could from raiding ship to galleon.

Click

From the blanket of smoke, Kasayth fired a shot from his handheld crossbow, the bolt finding its mark between the Officer’s eyes. “Now, sea-crows! Attack!” he roared.

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