18 replies to this topic

[currymaniac]

Salt water lashed against the darkened hull of the ship, the wood creaking under the strain that the turmoiling sea was putting it under. The sky had darkened quickly and now only the odd sliver of moonlight could be seen through the charcoal gray clouds. As if trying to from a reflection of what was happening to the bottom of the ship rain thundered down on the deck, drenching the men who were working tirelessly in order to keep the ship afloat. Already the sail had been furled up to save it from being ripped asunder and the cannons had been strapped down as best they could. The Ascension was preparing for one hell of a night.

They had set sail two days ago, under the rumor that the Isla de las Profundidades had once again arisen. The captain of the Ascension, Captain Henry Mordred, had gotten this information from a fisherman, and had paid dearly for it too, two hundred gold pieces. The fisherman himself was too scared to go near the island himself, knowing that it had disappeared beneath the depths before and fearful that it would do so once more. So, Mordred put the word about that he was looking for a few extra crew, giving a few brief details of where he was planning to go, and then set sail, extra men at the ready.

The captain considered himself more of a private businessman than a pirate. Rather than plundering he dealt with certain aquistions and according to him none of his crew suffered from scurvy. He demeanour was rough, but with a kindness behid it, like a boss who wants to be friends with his employees but just isn't able to.

Now, back on the Ascension the captain is in a rage. He screams at the linesman and the cooper, the latter's barrels being smashed to pieces on the deck by the waves which are ever increasin in size. Pushing the helmsman out of the way he takes charge of wheel, yelling at whatever crew are available to relight the quenched lamps. The deck swivels as if there is a massive axis on the ship's keel, making the crew slip left and right as they attempt to bring some control to the situation.

Edited by currymaniac, 26 April 2008 - 09:57 PM.

[Ghost]

A storm! That damned Captain has just recieved a new lease on life - there's no way I'll gut him while we're in troubled waters; first, he's an able seaman, and there's a sad lack of such on this here tub. Second... well, calling down bad luck in the mistd of a storm, by spilling a Captain's blood...? Bah, might as well slit my own throat in the bargain...

Eldrid D'Jean sheaths his blackened blade, and springs into action; if the Captian is to live for now, then it's time to focus on other things. Like saving this ship.

Grabbing a torch from the tar-bucket, the stringy 'would-be cutthroat' has to work hard to light it with his flint and steel, before it finally catches. When it does, he tries to maneuver about on deck to re-light the lanterns, all the while trying to keep the torch out of the wind and the waves, and holding on to the rigging as he goes.

"Best find us a landing, Capt'n! And sooner's better than later, too!" he roars over the crashing of the waves, adding under his breath "All the sooner to meet yer death..."

Edited by Ghost, 26 April 2008 - 08:41 PM.

[Gryffydd65]

Steffan wretched once more over the rails as he tried to help with the sails, his body was just not made for a seafaring life and he hoped the captain knew what he was doing.

"God, help me, save me, oh why did I leave dry land." he screamed in between wretching some more of his last meal of oats and barley.

[Ghost]

"Get a hold of yerself, boy!" Eldrid bellows over the roaring wind, into the young Lord's ear as he comes up to him, on his way along the rail. Eyeing the young man with his unsettling left eye, Eldrid adds with an angry sneer: "If yer can't fasten that line, leave it to someone who can! The Capt'n needs a ship with sails that answers when he calls, if we're to live through this!"

With that, he yanks the sail-line out of the boys hand's, and with a determined grip begins winding the line around a nearby sailing pin with one hand.

"Now, least ye can do is get up yonder and light a lantern or two, and I'll tighten this line here," Eldrid shouts, indicating the prow of the ship and holding out his torch to the boy. "Hurry!"

Going forwards to light the lanterns is in fact a more dangerous job at present, but at least a boy of Steffan's size is less likely to be blown over board if a wave hits, as most of him will be beneath the rail.

[Dehoffren]

Aurturo T Remus IV was safely stowed below decks as the storm lashed at the ship above. He wasn't oblivious to the sounds of the waves crashing at the ship's side or to the yell of the captain trying to ride out the weather fury but at this precise moment Arturo's attention was focused on the potato that was evading his fork. "The little blighter" he said good naturedly "You would think he knows what is in store for him" as he lunged at the vegetable again with his fork. The rolling on the ship was mimiced by the food and drink laid out on the table before him.
Arturo had been in a heightened state of excitement since he had heard of the Island rising. Barely able to contain his enthusiam he had booked on to this ship without any fore-thought and was enjoying every stomach churning moment of it so far. Making one last ditch attempt to spear the potato Arturo lauched himself as far forward as his large tummy that was wedged against the table would allow him, timed his assault and gained his prize. Grinning from ear to ear over his little victory he stuffed the buttery starch into his mouth and chewed contentedly.

Edited by Dehoffren, 27 April 2008 - 01:43 PM.

[currymaniac]

A crash could be heard from below deck and the ship lurched hard to port as the captain lost control of the wheel. He sprung back as the wheel started to turn erratically, too afraid of losing his hand to the spinning grips that circle the great wheel to try and regain control. Making a life and death decision, the captain made for the only option he saw open to him. "Release the sail!" he yelled above the din of the wind, hoping that perhaps the wind would be their saviour rather than their damnation.

Below deck, one of the strapped cannons broke free from its ties and as the ship lurched to port it was flung across the ship, breaking a hole through the hull of the ship. The hole was thusfar above the level of the sea, but that didn't stop water from making its way through as the waves crashed against the seasoned wood.

[Ghost]

'Release the sail!'

The order came through clear enough. But, pulling at the sailing pin, Eldrid found he had done too good a job moments before; the rope wouldn't come loose; the knot soaked in salpregnant fisher.

This was bad. Hesitating but a moment, Eldrid drew his blackened knife again, and sliced through the taut line he had just fastened securely - sliced it as high up as possible; they could splice the rope later if they lived. For now, a sail-line flailing wildly in the wind could whip a man to blood, take his eye out, or worse; hang him. Or snare him and throw him over board; in storms like this, loose lines were the wind's weapons.

Shouting over to the other side of the ship, where some dark shape or other were fumbling with the ropes on that side, Eldrid bellowed: "Cut the lines! CUT THE LINES! There's no time t- "

Then the ship leaned dangersously over to the side, and Eldrid had only a second to grab onto the rigging, before he found himself alost dangling over the roaring waves. There was a rumbling sound below him, followed by the crash of splintering wood, and screams; you didn't have to be a sawbones or philosopher to understand what that meant by sound alone. But Eldrid witnessed the actual cannon fly from the ship's side, and plunge into the depths, taking wood and some unfortunate crewman with him.

"What are you so upset for; we didn't DO anything yet!" Eldrid spat into the storm, challenging the gods of wind and water. Then he turned towards the helm, yelling as loudly as his lungs would allow: "HARD STARBOARD, CAPT'N! WE'RE BREACHED ON THE PORT SIDE! BREACH ON THE PORT SIDE!"

[Dehoffren]

A dribbled of congealled fat bubbled on Arturo's bottom lip as the storm gathered further pace. Reaching for the glass of port that was dangerously see-sawing up and down the laden table, Arturo almost grasped the stem of the glass when the large crash echoed around the cabin. The seriousness of the situation was not lost on the bespecticled archaeologist as the crackle of spittered wood rang in his ears.

Scraping the wooden chair against the cabin floor, Arturo unsteadily got to his feet. The gout that had recently been affecting his left legs flared to remind him to take things a little easy as he made his way to deck. As the ship ducked and dived in the waves Arturo's mass was first thrown one way and then the other. Finally making it to the door that sealed the lower decks Arturo made several attempts to open the handle, each time being foiled by the listing ship. All of a sudden the ship seemed to jump forward, probably as a result of the sail being released, and Arturo was hurled towards and through the door. Landing in a very undignified heap on the deck, Arturo looked around at the desperate scene. Everyone was a hive of activity, running from one side of the ship to the other, undoing and re-doing knots, scabbling desperately to regain control of the vessel. Using the balustrade to help him up Arturo bellowed against the wind to a passing crew member "Anything I can do to help old chap?"

Edited by Dehoffren, 27 April 2008 - 01:43 PM.

[Gryffydd65]

Steffan reeled back and forth trying to make it to the front with the torch, the rocking motion made it so hard to walk and hold the flames away from his face. A terrible sound and the ship lurched, Steffan found himself thrown against the railing. He dropped the torch, desperate to hold on to the railing with all his life, the torch rolled down the floor towards the forward aft.

[currymaniac]

As the torch rolled away there was yet another chrash as the captain finally work up the courage to grab hold of the wheel. There was a cracking sound from below deck as several timbers gave way under the strain and several of the lamps upon the deck crashed to the ground, their oil spilling out and lighting the deck in an eerie orange glow. The rain continued to lash, causing a battle of the elements between the torrent and flaming oil. As more and more water heaved onto the deck the fire spread and spread, at one stage even engulfing a sailor in torutous scream of agony and death.

Though the oil only burned for thirty seconds before the fire finally ran our of fuel, it must have seemed like an eternity to those trapped by it, and there was a sigh of relief as it finally burned itself out. However, as the way it seemed to be with this storm, it was one thing after another, as when the fire was finally quenched the wind gave a tremendous surge and the sail was whipped away, wrapping itself around one of the crew, cocooning him and dragging him to the suffocating depths of the ocean.

All the while the captain screamed. He cursed t the gods as his looking at his throbbing hand which once again held control of the ship's rudder. "To the long boats!" he cried, keeping hold of the wheel so as not to swing erratically again, but it was of no use. It appeared, that in their haste to unfurl the sail the men had also cut the ropes suspending the longboats, perhaps dooming them all.

[Ghost]

"Ye blasted fools! Ye cut the boats loose!?" Eldrid had a good mind to get over to the offending crewmen and chuck them overbaord, but he realized time was now very short. Hurrying aft towards the ladder going down, pushing brutally past the large man who stood in his way, offering to help, Eldrid shouted through the storm down the hatch for his brother: "Jonah! Get up here! Get up here now; we're loosing her, and damned boats are gone!"

From below came a face, half-covered in blood. The clearly hurt man peering up at Eldrid was Tygo, one of his cronies, who had been below along with Jonah. Now he was muttering something beyond hearing in the roaring wind.

"Where's Jonah? Get that shirking scamp up here!" Eldrid yelled into the man's face, to make sure he heard. The man shook his head, terror in his eyes, struggling hard to find his voice: "He's... he's gone, sir..! When the cannon got loose - broke a hole... he - your brother, sir - Jonah... he was washed out the hole! He's dead for sure, sir. There was nothing we could do; he was gone so fas-"

Tygo stopped mid-sentence, as the blackened blade slid into his chest. A gurgle of blood escaped his lips, before he fell back down the ladder. Eldrid, his mouth set in a quivering line, shut the hatch close, whiped the blood on his pants and sheathed the knife.

Edited by Ghost, 28 April 2008 - 12:07 AM.

[Mercenary_Leader]

Finn has no idea what to do in this situation. He was no sailor he was actualy quite uncomfortable being on a ship at all, he was more at ease on dry land. He did his best to not get in the way of the sailors wich he hope knew what they were doing and could handle this. When he heard the captain order everyone to the long boats he figure that they couldn't this after all. He looked around for a longboat but to his horror could not see one.
'' Ah hell, this is not my day '' he muttered

[Dehoffren]

Arturo watched helplessly as those around him fought the storm, barely keeping his grip on the balustrade the rain and wind torn at his eyes and skin. The whisps of hair that remained of his head, were flaten and snaked down his forehead and made seeing that much harder. He felt absolutely useless. He neither had the knowledge or the physically capabilites to help ride out the storm. He could only watch in horror as one poor soul was burned alive. Arturo closed his eyes tightly shut trying to forget the scene but the wretched agony filled cries for help still rang in his ears long after the man had mercifully died.

Arturo, although presented himself as being a large hulking mass, was quite a senitive soul and mouthed a prayer for the loss of life. His moment of meditation was interupted by a yell that the wind carried to his ear Ye cut the boats loose In that split second he found that the saying was very true, your life does pass before your eyes. when you believe you are doomed

Edited by Dehoffren, 28 April 2008 - 02:39 PM.

[Tyrion]

Cold and soaked to the skin Scurvy cowered in the forward head, bracing himself the best he could in the confines of what was basically a wooden box not much bigger than a coffin. My wasn't that a cheerful thought. It wasn't that he hated sailing, far from it, it's just when you spend the majority of voyages below decks hiding everything takes on a certain amount of deja . The violent tooing and throwing of a galleon caught up in the hands of a storm. Bile rising and stomach dropping everytime the ship crested a particularly nasty wave. But this, this was something else. This was like being a rubber ducky in the devil's own bath. Storm had been spectacularly sick untill the meagre contents of his stomach were completely voided. Hard biscuits and chewed up chunks of rat. you could never starve on a ship if you knew where to look, down in the bilges. Then the agonies of dry-heaving had started...
Now normally a couple of days out of port, once he'd got his bearings and once they were too far out for the authorities to take him, Scurvy would reveal his presence. Usually he could find himself a benefactor, a wealthy passenger or a ranked officer on the crew. Scurvy would always show his gratitude and a beneficial mutual partnership could be formed. But no such luck this time. Everybody seemed mightily pre-occupied. Something was going on. Something that would probably see him bound and thrown over the side. Scurvy smelt opportunity. So he had skulked around below decks trying to piece as much information together as he could. Then along had came this blasted storm...

[currymaniac]

The captain stood, obviously daunted by the turn of events that had devastated his crew and his ship. He merely stood and looked out at the raging sea which was soon to swallow his ship, the Ascension as if it were no more than a child's toy. A faint tear dripped from his eye, though it was unnoticeable among the rain drops that lay upon his face. He had lost, no matter what he did now he could not save the ship. He closed his eyes and waited for whatever god called the sea their home to smite him.

He stood there for a hours it seemed to him, though in reality only seconds passed by. Anger flared in him, why were they drawing it out like this! He opened his eyes viciously, slapped a babbling idiot beside him and then started to yell. "You want it yer bugger! Then you'll have to take it!" He took hold of the wheel once more and swung hard to starboard, "I'll not have my ship traken without a fight!"