((Open RP to anyone who wants to contribute to this storyline with an Alternate Character - No forced RP. RP has to conform to what is available or reasonable (eg. longer ropes, lead, special flags or other types of boats) within Illarion, so no cannons, flintlocks, etc. Can play any member of crew on ships in story, or RP your own! Thank you and have fun!))
The Sea-Pig is a small wooden picard* from Gynk crewed by only 10 people, plying the seas between Gynk and Galmair by hugging the coast, avoiding port authorities and paying bribes to unscrupulous Harbor-masters. We’re not boring traders, but we’re not outlaws or pirates either. We’re Smugglers!
Sunrise, with a crisp, fresh Ocean breeze coming from the North-west. The Sea-Pig is sailing close to the wind about ½ Kilometer from a wooded shore on it’s way to Burgeston with a Cargo of Elven Wine, which the locals have deemed illegal to sell there. Their Leader hates Elves you see, despite the great tasty wine they make!
On the Deck at the Helm is Captain Henry Morgenstern, steering close to the wind to keep speed up during the Dawn. It’s well-known Pirates tread these waters looking for easy, slow marks, however for now, the coastal waters appears clear and open. This morning, Henry decided to let the rest of the crew sleep in a little, because the Port will be in sight about Noon, and there’ll be lots of work to do to get away by nightfall. It’s best to sail by Night because of the Pirates you know, for many a ship has been taken during the Day!
There’s a lookout at the Bow, watching for reefs, and the Cook is in the Cabin heating up some salted pork and eggs for breakfast. Who will arise first, he wonders?
*Picard - First recorded in the 1320s, the picard was a single-masted vessel of 10–40 tons used mainly as support vessel for fishing fleets, bringing home their catches and ferrying supplies, or as a lighter, loading from vessels at anchor and discharging onto beaches or shallow creeks. A widespread type, in use from Scotland, all round the English coast and across in Ireland.-Wikipedia (Very Similar to the small ships IG at the Harbors)
Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((closed))
Moderator: Gamemasters
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Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((closed))
Last edited by Juniper Onyx on Thu Apr 03, 2025 3:35 pm, edited 6 times in total.
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
As far as seafaring harpies go, you’d be hard pressed to find one more wickedly devious than Julibe Jonesy. Sure there were pirates with more fame and fortune, more deprived and sinister, more everything vile and ruthless, but to be a devil of the sea- earned you a different kind of respect amongst thieves and scalawags.
To some she was a novelty, to others a ghost story in faraway harbor towns, and to the ships and sailors ‘round Gynk, seamen beware. As the sea shanty goes:
Aye, I heard it once, on sheets a’fog she floats
I heards it twice, a bell she might’be a’ring’n
Oh beware, that ring, ring a’chime’n lads
It’s nay one to bring ya a’shore to the live’n
Lo ye sailor, lo ye, to hear that sweet, sweet bell
Ring, ring
Lo ye, ring, ring
Oh ye, sing, sing
Jonesy, Be, Be, Be
Soon y’ll see, see, see
From the sea, sea, sea
Row ye row row row
Juli, Be, Be, Be
Sees you
Be, Be, Be
Sees you
Better flee flee flee
Least you be, be, be n’er her
Be, be n’er her
Soon y’ll see see
Fates will be, be
Do you see, see?
Flags o’ Bees Bees Bees
Soon y’ll be, be, be
Bones under bees, bees, bees
Better flee, flee, flee
Least you see see see
The Jolly Be, Be Jonesy
Be, Be Jonesy
Be, Be Jonesy
Jolly Be, Be Jonesy
See
See
Beneath the Sea, Sea, Sea
You’ll be, be, be
To some she was a novelty, to others a ghost story in faraway harbor towns, and to the ships and sailors ‘round Gynk, seamen beware. As the sea shanty goes:
Aye, I heard it once, on sheets a’fog she floats
I heards it twice, a bell she might’be a’ring’n
Oh beware, that ring, ring a’chime’n lads
It’s nay one to bring ya a’shore to the live’n
Lo ye sailor, lo ye, to hear that sweet, sweet bell
Ring, ring
Lo ye, ring, ring
Oh ye, sing, sing
Jonesy, Be, Be, Be
Soon y’ll see, see, see
From the sea, sea, sea
Row ye row row row
Juli, Be, Be, Be
Sees you
Be, Be, Be
Sees you
Better flee flee flee
Least you be, be, be n’er her
Be, be n’er her
Soon y’ll see see
Fates will be, be
Do you see, see?
Flags o’ Bees Bees Bees
Soon y’ll be, be, be
Bones under bees, bees, bees
Better flee, flee, flee
Least you see see see
The Jolly Be, Be Jonesy
Be, Be Jonesy
Be, Be Jonesy
Jolly Be, Be Jonesy
See
See
Beneath the Sea, Sea, Sea
You’ll be, be, be
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Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
The smell from the Galley seemed to have waken the crew from their slumber as they stumble on the deck looking for their grub and ration of Rum. Henry steers the Sea-Pig closer to the Lee of the rocky shores while they eat.
“Mr. Phipps!,” he yells to the man in the crow’s nest.
“Aye Cap’n,” he replies.
“Get a Lead rope and take mark at the bow!,” Henry orders.
In a flurry of motion, the man atop, shimmies down the lines, his feet thudding on the deck, grabs the rope nearby with a lead anchorweight attached, sprints to the bow and starts dropping it in, pulling it up and counting the length.
Before long, counts of “by the five!”…and “by the four and half” start ringing out from the bow. Henry acknowledges them with a nod and steers the ship closer to shore as the morning Sun starts it’s ascent to the sky.
At the sound of “By the three,” Henry nods and steers the craft evenly with the shore, ever on the watch for pirates. “Lead away!” Henry orders and Mr Phipps expertly wraps the rope and places it where he got it. “Well done Phipps, get yer grub,” and the crewman shuffles off to get his breakfast.
The Cook, after having fed the crew, brings Henry a plate. It’s been a long standing order that the men get fed first. He accepts it with a nod and passes the tiller to a crewman who had just finished. “Keep her true Buckland,” he orders the crewman.
“Lads! We’ll be in Burgeston by Noon.” Henry declares, “Eat hearty, we’ve a large cargo to get delivered, unloaded and loaded again before nightfall. We leave by sunset!”
Another crewman finishes and is ordered to the nest. “Keep a weather eye!” Henry orders. His men know the risk of sailing into port by day, for the closer they get, the more ships and especially pirates are about, plundering the local waters. However, being close to the lee of the shore will prevent anything with a deeper keel than his from getting close.
He remembers only one pirate who was able to get the weather gauge on him once. Julibe Jonesy. That Harpie was the worst and seemed to know all his tricks. He’d heard they’d even made a song to her! He was sailing just like this toward a port, and her vessel was in a cove behind a cliff-face, just out of sight until it was too late. She had a dinghy drop and anchor out in the rip tide like a fishing boat before he arrived, his vessel moved between the two and all she had to do was pull on a hidden rope to raise it from the water, catch his keel and his ship dragged her vessel alongside his. It was genius, but he was prepared for her tricks now. He had a blacksmith design a blade for the front of his keel, and since then, he’s always had keen lookouts and a well fed and rested crew prior to arrival at Ports. Luckily, he hasn’t seen her since.
It was dangerous business, smuggling. Some call it Piracy, some call it honest, but whichever it was depended on who you sailed for, which rivals you bested and who survived. Jonesy won that day, taking a fortune in silks, but not today! If he never saw that Harpie again, no-one would be happier than he!
((Yes! There are two ships and RP is open to anyone who wants to RP anyone on either ship...or bring your own into the story? LOL!!))
“Mr. Phipps!,” he yells to the man in the crow’s nest.
“Aye Cap’n,” he replies.
“Get a Lead rope and take mark at the bow!,” Henry orders.
In a flurry of motion, the man atop, shimmies down the lines, his feet thudding on the deck, grabs the rope nearby with a lead anchorweight attached, sprints to the bow and starts dropping it in, pulling it up and counting the length.
Before long, counts of “by the five!”…and “by the four and half” start ringing out from the bow. Henry acknowledges them with a nod and steers the ship closer to shore as the morning Sun starts it’s ascent to the sky.
At the sound of “By the three,” Henry nods and steers the craft evenly with the shore, ever on the watch for pirates. “Lead away!” Henry orders and Mr Phipps expertly wraps the rope and places it where he got it. “Well done Phipps, get yer grub,” and the crewman shuffles off to get his breakfast.
The Cook, after having fed the crew, brings Henry a plate. It’s been a long standing order that the men get fed first. He accepts it with a nod and passes the tiller to a crewman who had just finished. “Keep her true Buckland,” he orders the crewman.
“Lads! We’ll be in Burgeston by Noon.” Henry declares, “Eat hearty, we’ve a large cargo to get delivered, unloaded and loaded again before nightfall. We leave by sunset!”
Another crewman finishes and is ordered to the nest. “Keep a weather eye!” Henry orders. His men know the risk of sailing into port by day, for the closer they get, the more ships and especially pirates are about, plundering the local waters. However, being close to the lee of the shore will prevent anything with a deeper keel than his from getting close.
He remembers only one pirate who was able to get the weather gauge on him once. Julibe Jonesy. That Harpie was the worst and seemed to know all his tricks. He’d heard they’d even made a song to her! He was sailing just like this toward a port, and her vessel was in a cove behind a cliff-face, just out of sight until it was too late. She had a dinghy drop and anchor out in the rip tide like a fishing boat before he arrived, his vessel moved between the two and all she had to do was pull on a hidden rope to raise it from the water, catch his keel and his ship dragged her vessel alongside his. It was genius, but he was prepared for her tricks now. He had a blacksmith design a blade for the front of his keel, and since then, he’s always had keen lookouts and a well fed and rested crew prior to arrival at Ports. Luckily, he hasn’t seen her since.
It was dangerous business, smuggling. Some call it Piracy, some call it honest, but whichever it was depended on who you sailed for, which rivals you bested and who survived. Jonesy won that day, taking a fortune in silks, but not today! If he never saw that Harpie again, no-one would be happier than he!
((Yes! There are two ships and RP is open to anyone who wants to RP anyone on either ship...or bring your own into the story? LOL!!))
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
You’re only as good as the information that serves you. Not all high-stakes sea affairs begin when one rival ship spots another on the horizon or the Jolly Roger flies. Sometimes, a supplier doesn’t want the stakes to be quite so high and they hedge their bet or maybe they refuse the hedge and an example must be made of them. Either way, Julibe’s informants and scouts have received word of contraband destined for Burgeston. By way of magic, the information flows swiftly and Julibe sets her wide net trap. The plan doesn’t come without flaws, she knows it, but the warning will make its way back to her intended target and the time and effort to avoid her will result in a net loss over time.
We all like our slice of pie, the fatter we get, the bigger the slice to satiate. Like any business, smuggling has degrees of scale, while the bigger outfits run cargo ships with a network of bribe channels to ensure supply meets demand. Julibe preferred to keep her growing, although small network to the shallows, away from the lunatics with artillery and fleets. No, there in the shallows, you saw the skill and cunning of the seaborn ilk or the lack thereof, instead of bigger faster ships with more firepower. There were few lesser known routes from Gynk to select destinations that went uncharted by the Jolly Be Jonesy.
In the case of the Sea-Pig having seconds with the Jolly Be Jonesy, Julibe had three of the five trade routes to Burgeston under watch. The two outliers, the main thoroughfare held the deepest water, and the bypass route had always been a contested channel. If the Pig took either of those routes, then its captain was either the boldest or daftest and Julibe would probably never cross paths with the Sea-Pig again. Now how would the wind blow? Would the Sea-Pig take to the northerly winds toward crag infested waters that required a steady hand and course and see an icy blue flamed arrow shoot into the sky; to the lowlands where flood waters in the delta region offered high risk, high reward passage and see a fire arrow; or put everyone to the test on a more charted route that ran the risk of lesser pirate vessels or worse the Freetradesmen guild ships?
Were the Sea-Pig to take the latter of the three, there’d be no warning other than a flash of movement in the trees. The one thing about keeping to the shores, aye you keep bigger ships at bay but land can have concealed eyes the sea would never permit. Then again, perhaps the Sea-Pig took one the outliers or some uncharted gem, only time would tell what destiny the sea churned up.
We all like our slice of pie, the fatter we get, the bigger the slice to satiate. Like any business, smuggling has degrees of scale, while the bigger outfits run cargo ships with a network of bribe channels to ensure supply meets demand. Julibe preferred to keep her growing, although small network to the shallows, away from the lunatics with artillery and fleets. No, there in the shallows, you saw the skill and cunning of the seaborn ilk or the lack thereof, instead of bigger faster ships with more firepower. There were few lesser known routes from Gynk to select destinations that went uncharted by the Jolly Be Jonesy.
In the case of the Sea-Pig having seconds with the Jolly Be Jonesy, Julibe had three of the five trade routes to Burgeston under watch. The two outliers, the main thoroughfare held the deepest water, and the bypass route had always been a contested channel. If the Pig took either of those routes, then its captain was either the boldest or daftest and Julibe would probably never cross paths with the Sea-Pig again. Now how would the wind blow? Would the Sea-Pig take to the northerly winds toward crag infested waters that required a steady hand and course and see an icy blue flamed arrow shoot into the sky; to the lowlands where flood waters in the delta region offered high risk, high reward passage and see a fire arrow; or put everyone to the test on a more charted route that ran the risk of lesser pirate vessels or worse the Freetradesmen guild ships?
Were the Sea-Pig to take the latter of the three, there’d be no warning other than a flash of movement in the trees. The one thing about keeping to the shores, aye you keep bigger ships at bay but land can have concealed eyes the sea would never permit. Then again, perhaps the Sea-Pig took one the outliers or some uncharted gem, only time would tell what destiny the sea churned up.
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Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
As the Sea-Pig steers true in the lee of the rocky shore, suddenly an Ice Arrow streaks toward the sky.
"Damn!" Henry exclaims.
"Get aloft and look for sail!" Henry orders a nearby crewman, who then scampers up the ratlines and onto the small crow's nest looking for signs of a sail.
"Ne'er a sail be seen Cap'n!" The crewman shouts down. Henry nods in acknowledgement. Despite this, Henry knows an enemy ship can't be far away. Just below the horizon even, but easily a 5 hour sail once they see the Arrow. Burgeston is still 3 hours away, and no doubt they would cut them off before they get there. He has a little time and it would be a waste to spend half of that sailing toward the enemy.
"Course West by Southwest, Mr Phipps!" Henry ordered. This course basically sends the Sea-Pig out to Sea, perpendicular to the shore but off the assumed path one would think if he was making a run for Burgeston. However it wouldn't be long before a foe would see his sail on the horizon too. Henry ordered two other crewmen to lower the Mainsail to halfmast. He grabbed two others to sprint up and remove the Nest from the top. He was hoping by minimizing his height, he could either avoid being seen or simply look farther away than he really was. Time will tell.
"Rig Boarding nets and pass out arms! Everyone be prepared to repel boarders!" Henry ordered as the crew all went to their assigned areas and worked to implements the orders.
"5 Hours, but we'll know in two if this works" Henry thought, "Let's hope it's enough so we can approach Burgeston another way."
The Sea-Pig rolled across the heaving swells as it went toward the open Bay, aflurry with activity. Time will tell if they are able to lose their hunter.
"Damn!" Henry exclaims.
"Get aloft and look for sail!" Henry orders a nearby crewman, who then scampers up the ratlines and onto the small crow's nest looking for signs of a sail.
"Ne'er a sail be seen Cap'n!" The crewman shouts down. Henry nods in acknowledgement. Despite this, Henry knows an enemy ship can't be far away. Just below the horizon even, but easily a 5 hour sail once they see the Arrow. Burgeston is still 3 hours away, and no doubt they would cut them off before they get there. He has a little time and it would be a waste to spend half of that sailing toward the enemy.
"Course West by Southwest, Mr Phipps!" Henry ordered. This course basically sends the Sea-Pig out to Sea, perpendicular to the shore but off the assumed path one would think if he was making a run for Burgeston. However it wouldn't be long before a foe would see his sail on the horizon too. Henry ordered two other crewmen to lower the Mainsail to halfmast. He grabbed two others to sprint up and remove the Nest from the top. He was hoping by minimizing his height, he could either avoid being seen or simply look farther away than he really was. Time will tell.
"Rig Boarding nets and pass out arms! Everyone be prepared to repel boarders!" Henry ordered as the crew all went to their assigned areas and worked to implements the orders.
"5 Hours, but we'll know in two if this works" Henry thought, "Let's hope it's enough so we can approach Burgeston another way."
The Sea-Pig rolled across the heaving swells as it went toward the open Bay, aflurry with activity. Time will tell if they are able to lose their hunter.
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
Thrill flared behind Julibe’s eyes when she saw the icy blue dart streak up into the clear blue sky. Her hooded companion next her registered the silent cue and started a spell ((open character)) from their perch high atop the pines. Julibe and her crew had devised an interconnected nest of camouflaged sentry lofts to give them dominion over ten nautical miles in any given direction. They’d replicated the scheme to one degree or another on this island or that, covering various trade routes, ready for when her eyes and ears buzzed with information.
Julibe readied herself, securing her belt and miscellaneous straps composed of sheath upon sheath adorned with dagger hilts. They hinted at travel and plunder, each unique and formed by different hands and cultures. Some were curved, crusted in gems, ancient and savage, plain to form and function; eclectic as her layers of fabric and leathers, earthy hues, gemstones, and form fitted gear amassing into her ensemble.
Everything had to be tight but unbinding, nothing could be allowed to hinder movement or her faculties on a ship. Tick, tick, tick, timing threaded the needle through chaos. The planked platform beneath her feet groaned as she stepped forward and pivoted to the empty space before the mage. A song of her own making hummed silently in her ears, from the corner of her eye she caught the maturing ebony skinned deckhand ((open))— more muscular than should be possible on one so young.
As they’d rehearsed, she turned her head just enough to draw him to attention. She nodded, his brown depths were focused and ready— he knew his task, and they’d meet again in Burgeston. Julibe was confident the deckhand would break down the camouflage netting, too prone to the elements to leave behind, and see the gear and provisions safely to the transport sloop. Without a single word to either companion, Julibe stepped forward into seemingly nothing, but the mage’s weaving crescendo synchronized with Julibe’s inner tune at that precise moment. The captain vanished into a rip between time and space.
The mage’s final word from the spell was followed by, “I hate when she does that!”
On the other side, the captain was already barking orders to her crew from the pier she appeared on with a resounding crack and sizzle of magic.
“All hands ta’ deck! Weigh Anchor and unbutton the Jolly Be! Unfurl Her like ya deserve Her lads!” Julibe marched on the controlled chaos exploding before her on the ship, freeing herself of the leather coat she wouldn’t need and tossing it to a cabin hand on a fast approach from behind her.
Tick, tick, tick, the music returned and blared in her ears as she tightened down the knotted cloth head wrap that haphazardly attempted to subdue the tendrils of fire escaping around her pointed ears. She broke into a sprint once the cabin hand began to fumble their exchange and continued yelling. “Make haste ya lard legged fiends! We’re headed ta Craggy Kiss and if My Girl comes back wounded ya’ll all see my honey hives!”
She may have kicked the hive to get them going, but she spared no one a second glance. They all knew their roles and tasks, and if they didn’t, her first-mate ((open)) handled discipline. Julibe was there for the helm, the open sea, the plotting and scheming, the killing if need be, but she couldn’t waste a single tick— not today, not ever.
A few more strides, then she was rising on a cut rope, swinging from rigging to rigging before she slid to her home at the center of her soul. Her crew had her ready, the song she felt took to the breeze and she wailed above them all, striking up a shanty!
“Soon may the Wellerman come!”
And the crew crooned in return.
“To bring us sugar and tea and rum,
One day, when the tonguin’ is done,
We’ll take our leave and go!”
While the Jolly Be Jonesy sped to the signal singing The Wellerman, the sentries with eyes on the Sea-Pig shot up two more icy arrows in succession, letting Julibe know that her mark broke course toward the open sea.
She sighed, unable to contain her disappointment. She’d been looking forward to the challenge of Craggy Kiss, but alas, she coalesced with new orders and bearings for the crew. The open sea offered its own litany of difficulties and risk. In her mind she knew the Sea-Pig made the right choice, rolls reversed— na, she’d have headed right for the crag and shone the sea gods her mettle!
As it were, she took to the seas on waves of haste and swarming angst. This would be a test of speed, pure speed and open skies. If a storm came a brewing or fog settled on the horizon— her chances were next to nothing to intercept the Sea-Pig. Who would have the fates and the wind on their side?
Julibe readied herself, securing her belt and miscellaneous straps composed of sheath upon sheath adorned with dagger hilts. They hinted at travel and plunder, each unique and formed by different hands and cultures. Some were curved, crusted in gems, ancient and savage, plain to form and function; eclectic as her layers of fabric and leathers, earthy hues, gemstones, and form fitted gear amassing into her ensemble.
Everything had to be tight but unbinding, nothing could be allowed to hinder movement or her faculties on a ship. Tick, tick, tick, timing threaded the needle through chaos. The planked platform beneath her feet groaned as she stepped forward and pivoted to the empty space before the mage. A song of her own making hummed silently in her ears, from the corner of her eye she caught the maturing ebony skinned deckhand ((open))— more muscular than should be possible on one so young.
As they’d rehearsed, she turned her head just enough to draw him to attention. She nodded, his brown depths were focused and ready— he knew his task, and they’d meet again in Burgeston. Julibe was confident the deckhand would break down the camouflage netting, too prone to the elements to leave behind, and see the gear and provisions safely to the transport sloop. Without a single word to either companion, Julibe stepped forward into seemingly nothing, but the mage’s weaving crescendo synchronized with Julibe’s inner tune at that precise moment. The captain vanished into a rip between time and space.
The mage’s final word from the spell was followed by, “I hate when she does that!”
On the other side, the captain was already barking orders to her crew from the pier she appeared on with a resounding crack and sizzle of magic.
“All hands ta’ deck! Weigh Anchor and unbutton the Jolly Be! Unfurl Her like ya deserve Her lads!” Julibe marched on the controlled chaos exploding before her on the ship, freeing herself of the leather coat she wouldn’t need and tossing it to a cabin hand on a fast approach from behind her.
Tick, tick, tick, the music returned and blared in her ears as she tightened down the knotted cloth head wrap that haphazardly attempted to subdue the tendrils of fire escaping around her pointed ears. She broke into a sprint once the cabin hand began to fumble their exchange and continued yelling. “Make haste ya lard legged fiends! We’re headed ta Craggy Kiss and if My Girl comes back wounded ya’ll all see my honey hives!”
She may have kicked the hive to get them going, but she spared no one a second glance. They all knew their roles and tasks, and if they didn’t, her first-mate ((open)) handled discipline. Julibe was there for the helm, the open sea, the plotting and scheming, the killing if need be, but she couldn’t waste a single tick— not today, not ever.
A few more strides, then she was rising on a cut rope, swinging from rigging to rigging before she slid to her home at the center of her soul. Her crew had her ready, the song she felt took to the breeze and she wailed above them all, striking up a shanty!
“Soon may the Wellerman come!”
And the crew crooned in return.
“To bring us sugar and tea and rum,
One day, when the tonguin’ is done,
We’ll take our leave and go!”
While the Jolly Be Jonesy sped to the signal singing The Wellerman, the sentries with eyes on the Sea-Pig shot up two more icy arrows in succession, letting Julibe know that her mark broke course toward the open sea.
She sighed, unable to contain her disappointment. She’d been looking forward to the challenge of Craggy Kiss, but alas, she coalesced with new orders and bearings for the crew. The open sea offered its own litany of difficulties and risk. In her mind she knew the Sea-Pig made the right choice, rolls reversed— na, she’d have headed right for the crag and shone the sea gods her mettle!
As it were, she took to the seas on waves of haste and swarming angst. This would be a test of speed, pure speed and open skies. If a storm came a brewing or fog settled on the horizon— her chances were next to nothing to intercept the Sea-Pig. Who would have the fates and the wind on their side?
-
Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
Henry steered the the Sea-Pig out to open sea, despite the dangers.
"Keep a weather eye!!" He yelled to the topman.
With a course west by southwest, Mr. Phipps steered the vessel through the waves, slow rollers as the waves approached the shore, but gently subsiding to low ebbs as the Sea-Pig moved away from shore.
Henry, looking out to the horizon, spotted nothing but open sea. "Damn," he thought, "This'll delay our shipment. I'll have to make up for the bonus money some other way." Henry thinks of all his options. He was hoping he wouldn't have to, but the ship will need supplies and hire three more crew after that squall last month off the lee of the wayward islands. Henry nods thinking, "Yeah, I'll have to contact those Golden Hand fellers and see what jobs they have."
He spots the the luff of the sail and barks out to a nearby sailor, "Avast! Tighten them sheets mister!" who promptly reties the ropes tying the sail to the deck.
Henry waits another five Hours and then orders to the helmsman, "That's enough tack Mr Phipps, Give me Full sail and let's blow all to Burgeston! We'll outrun whoever is out there!"
Mr. Phipps orders "All hands to braces!! All Stunsails set!!" as all the crew immediately grabs ropes, extra sail, Booms and hands run up the ratlines in an attempt to attach the Studding sail Booms on the ends of the yardarms. Stunsails means to attach extra Booms on the end, and then attach the Studding Sails to give extra sail, the fastest a ship could ever go in calm seas. The effect was converting the Sea-Pig into a Sea-Eagle with it's wings out! A "Flying Pig", an image stolen by one of it's earliest passengers, a dwarf Don somebody, a long time ago as Henry had heard from the Pig's previous owner. The helmsman then steered the Pig in on a direct course for Burgeston, the wind filling all the sail and the Sea-Pig lurched, riding high above the waves as the wind carried it faster. Even a few dolphins decided to break the surface in the Pig's wake.
Henry scanned the horizon for signs of pursuit or intercept. "The Sea-Pig is the fastest smuggling ship in the 5 Seas. Let them come!" Henry thought, ready to beat the ship to quarters as soon as his foe appeared. They should be near Burgeston by sunset, arriving under cover of darkness.
"Keep a weather eye!!" He yelled to the topman.
With a course west by southwest, Mr. Phipps steered the vessel through the waves, slow rollers as the waves approached the shore, but gently subsiding to low ebbs as the Sea-Pig moved away from shore.
Henry, looking out to the horizon, spotted nothing but open sea. "Damn," he thought, "This'll delay our shipment. I'll have to make up for the bonus money some other way." Henry thinks of all his options. He was hoping he wouldn't have to, but the ship will need supplies and hire three more crew after that squall last month off the lee of the wayward islands. Henry nods thinking, "Yeah, I'll have to contact those Golden Hand fellers and see what jobs they have."
He spots the the luff of the sail and barks out to a nearby sailor, "Avast! Tighten them sheets mister!" who promptly reties the ropes tying the sail to the deck.
Henry waits another five Hours and then orders to the helmsman, "That's enough tack Mr Phipps, Give me Full sail and let's blow all to Burgeston! We'll outrun whoever is out there!"
Mr. Phipps orders "All hands to braces!! All Stunsails set!!" as all the crew immediately grabs ropes, extra sail, Booms and hands run up the ratlines in an attempt to attach the Studding sail Booms on the ends of the yardarms. Stunsails means to attach extra Booms on the end, and then attach the Studding Sails to give extra sail, the fastest a ship could ever go in calm seas. The effect was converting the Sea-Pig into a Sea-Eagle with it's wings out! A "Flying Pig", an image stolen by one of it's earliest passengers, a dwarf Don somebody, a long time ago as Henry had heard from the Pig's previous owner. The helmsman then steered the Pig in on a direct course for Burgeston, the wind filling all the sail and the Sea-Pig lurched, riding high above the waves as the wind carried it faster. Even a few dolphins decided to break the surface in the Pig's wake.
Henry scanned the horizon for signs of pursuit or intercept. "The Sea-Pig is the fastest smuggling ship in the 5 Seas. Let them come!" Henry thought, ready to beat the ship to quarters as soon as his foe appeared. They should be near Burgeston by sunset, arriving under cover of darkness.
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
Julibe cursed under her breath as the fair winds ebbed and swirled. Like the sun on her face, she could feel the breeze turning fickle. Every seasoned sailor knew when a storm brewed. Before dark clouds welled on the horizon or thunder clapped, there was always a tell—in the way the waves struck the hull, the slack in the sheets, the shift in the wood’s tune. Julibe felt it before the first questioning gaze landed on her.
“Make ready, lads! If we fight the wind—haul hard ta’ the starry-side and man yer stations!”
Halbert, her first mate, stepped to her side, scanning the horizon with the patience of a man who had spent a lifetime reading the sea’s moods. Solid as an oak, he put no stock in omens or superstition. He trusted what he could see, what he could feel beneath his boots, and the way the ship spoke in creaks and groans.
“Aye, she’s shifting,” he muttered low. “Not a full turn yet, but it ain’t just a fickle breeze. She’s got teeth.”
Halbert never questioned Julibe’s instincts. The ship spoke to her in ways it didn’t to him. His job wasn’t to understand—only to act.
“Ye heard the captain!” His voice carried with the authority of a man who didn’t need to shout. “Haul fast and clean! No slack in the sheets, no stumble in the lines! If you’ve got breath for gawkin’, you’ve got hands for work!”
The deck stirred with renewed purpose, men snapping to their tasks under his firm command.
Julibe angled the ship to capture the last of the favorable breeze. In a race, tacking would cost precious time, and they had to round Cutlass Point before finding tailwinds. Worse still, their mark—the Sea-Pig—had a head start and was likely already leagues closer to Burgeston.
As the sun bled into the sea, the Jolly Be Jonesy sped forward, skirting the storm’s edge, its fierce gusts now fueling their pursuit. Then—
“Sails on the horizon! Two points to starboard!” the watchman bellowed.
Julibe cursed. The mage had kept her abreast of their bearings, but even with full speed and a precise course, they wouldn’t intercept the Sea-Pig in time. Not without drawing unwanted attention.
“Settle it down, lads! No blood’ll be spilt tonight! Strike some sail—keep us ghostin’ quiet. We’ll send out the bees and take our bounty when she leaves port.”
A lost ransom to ill winds. Worse, the Sea-Pig would be faster leaving port, unburdened. Pirates didn’t take setbacks lightly—when coin ran dry, patience ran thinner. Julibe knew it all too well. If their mark was cautious, they’d launder their loot or bury it. But desperate men made brash choices. Perhaps they’d make a mistake.
Her bees had work to do. Spying, tracking, finding where the treasure was buried or where smugglers slipped their coin to a buyer. A gamble, as always.
In a game where tides rise and fall, you learn to ride through it all.
Tick, tick.
“Take ‘er to port, Bees! Hands ready, eyes on the reefs! We make for Lilly Downs—give o’Hexslinger time to travel to Burgeston!”
“Make ready, lads! If we fight the wind—haul hard ta’ the starry-side and man yer stations!”
Halbert, her first mate, stepped to her side, scanning the horizon with the patience of a man who had spent a lifetime reading the sea’s moods. Solid as an oak, he put no stock in omens or superstition. He trusted what he could see, what he could feel beneath his boots, and the way the ship spoke in creaks and groans.
“Aye, she’s shifting,” he muttered low. “Not a full turn yet, but it ain’t just a fickle breeze. She’s got teeth.”
Halbert never questioned Julibe’s instincts. The ship spoke to her in ways it didn’t to him. His job wasn’t to understand—only to act.
“Ye heard the captain!” His voice carried with the authority of a man who didn’t need to shout. “Haul fast and clean! No slack in the sheets, no stumble in the lines! If you’ve got breath for gawkin’, you’ve got hands for work!”
The deck stirred with renewed purpose, men snapping to their tasks under his firm command.
Julibe angled the ship to capture the last of the favorable breeze. In a race, tacking would cost precious time, and they had to round Cutlass Point before finding tailwinds. Worse still, their mark—the Sea-Pig—had a head start and was likely already leagues closer to Burgeston.
As the sun bled into the sea, the Jolly Be Jonesy sped forward, skirting the storm’s edge, its fierce gusts now fueling their pursuit. Then—
“Sails on the horizon! Two points to starboard!” the watchman bellowed.
Julibe cursed. The mage had kept her abreast of their bearings, but even with full speed and a precise course, they wouldn’t intercept the Sea-Pig in time. Not without drawing unwanted attention.
“Settle it down, lads! No blood’ll be spilt tonight! Strike some sail—keep us ghostin’ quiet. We’ll send out the bees and take our bounty when she leaves port.”
A lost ransom to ill winds. Worse, the Sea-Pig would be faster leaving port, unburdened. Pirates didn’t take setbacks lightly—when coin ran dry, patience ran thinner. Julibe knew it all too well. If their mark was cautious, they’d launder their loot or bury it. But desperate men made brash choices. Perhaps they’d make a mistake.
Her bees had work to do. Spying, tracking, finding where the treasure was buried or where smugglers slipped their coin to a buyer. A gamble, as always.
In a game where tides rise and fall, you learn to ride through it all.
Tick, tick.
“Take ‘er to port, Bees! Hands ready, eyes on the reefs! We make for Lilly Downs—give o’Hexslinger time to travel to Burgeston!”
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Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
The Hours tick by as the hands stay alert for signs of pursuit. Flying from the setting Sun toward Burgeston, the Sea-Pig would have been difficult to see anyways, but Henry was taking no chances. Twilight beckons and in the distance, lights flicker one by one in the sleepy port town of Burgeston as the Pig approached, and then moored in the darkness. They made it without pursuit that they knew of.
"All hands on Deck," Henry ordered as the thud of bare feet thundered onto the deck. "Good work men! We got here safe and will soon deliver our cargo. Mr Phipps will take names for shore leave, but I want no drunken sots on my crew! Hold yer liquor men and we'll go on to the next job!'
"Mr. Phipps!" Henry calls
"Aye Captain!" Mr Phipps responds
"Pick two men for me and two for the watch every 4 hours and see that the men get some time ashore!" Henry ordered
"Aye Captain!" Phipps responded with a slight cheer from the gathered men.
The men proceeded to unload the cargo of Elven Wine from the hold onto two large carts, then proceeded to walk into town for some entertainment and rest. Henry took his two sailors and directed the carts into town, turning into the seedier side of town down by the waterfront, where he halts them in front of an old Barn.
"Who goes there?" a voice challenges from the darkness.
"Morgenstern", replies Henry. At that a rogueish looking man, with a crossbow moves out of the shadows and glowers at Henry.
"You're Late! That'll cost ye the bonus." the man states. Henry nods and motions for his men to unload the carts and carry the cases into the building. The man throws a small leather pouch at Henry, who grabs it.
"Got any more work?" Henry asks the man, who shakes his head. Henry sighs and waits for his men to return to the carts. Henry motions for them to return, "Good work men, now Stow these carts and enjoy yer leave." Happily, the men race those carts back to the wharf, while Henry stays and considers his options. He then strides out in a new direction, toward the markets where he finds many of the vendors and stalls shuttered after a long day. Henry looks for closely at the shopfronts, and finds one with a carved Hand in the entryway, and starts to bang on the door with his fist.
A shuttered window in the door slides open, and in hushed tones a voice asks, "State yer business!"
"Morgenstern, looking for a job" Henry whispers to the door. The window slams shut and locks begin being unworked as the door then opens. Henry enters and the door slams shut again. He stands in a smithy workshop of chains, manacles and collars strewn about. A grizzled old man leads Henry to a back room, where a larger man sits, dressed in finer clothes, obese with beads of sweat rolling down his face as he makes notations in various ledgers on his desk.
"Master, Morgenstern's come about a job." the servant says and then retreats back to the shadows. The Man parks his inky quill and looks at Henry.
"Henry!!" the man exclaims heartily. "It's been a while. I almost gave up you'd come back to us!"
With a sigh, Henry feigns a smile, "Felix, you're looking as well as ever!" and embraces the man in assumed friendship. "Hey, ran into trouble off shore, got my shipment in late and looking for some coin to make up the loss. Ye got anything?" Henry asks.
Felix thinks a moment, then beams at him, "Why yes! There were some passengers looking for a ride to Galmair. Not slaves or nothin, these looked like serious folk. Best be careful with them. Are ye up for some Hand business too?" he asks.
"Whatever pays," Henry replies.
"Excellent!! Well while you're there, see about grabbing a couple elves for my market here. Afraid my stock has run low." Felix asks before depositing a bag of coin in Henry's hand. "A down payment. I know you're good for it." Felix mentions trustingly.
Henry remembers well during the years of profiteering for the Hand, that money given is money repaid or else. He nods.
"Excellent! Oh! We also have a contact there. Try to rendezvous with them to get the lay of the land. It may help ye with the job." Felix advises. Henry nods.
The rest of the evening is about old times and a few drinks are shared before Henry excuses himself to see to his ship. He strolls back and returns to his bunk with a sigh.
As dawn peeks through his cabin windows, Henry's got a splitting headache and a guilty conscience. "Ugh....Phipps!!" The first mate answers quickly and Henry tosses the coin purse to him, "See the ship is stocked and clear room for three passengers..." Phipps nods, closes the door and Henry rests a little longer.
Later, Henry steps on the deck and views the activities. Food and water casks are being loaded, crew morale is high and sheets are being rigged and stowed. "We sail within the hour!" he says to the quartermaster, who redoubles his efforts.
Meanwhile, three mysterious hooded figures board the ship and await the Captain. Henry approaches them and they whisper in hushed tones, and Henry motions to the hold where their bunks have been set up. They nod in thanks and head down the galleyway.
Henry surveys his ship and crew. Good, he thinks. We sail within the hour for Galmair, deliver the passengers, grab a couple of elves, and get the hell out of there. He never liked illarion and preferred not to stay there longer than necessary. The trip should take 6 hours by the coast, 4 if he went to open sea.
His mind then wandered to whoever sent those fireworks up. With some concern, he remembered that they're still out there, but where?
"Get underway! Batten down the hatches! You have the helm Phipps! As the crow flies please!" Crew scurried to hurriedly implement the Captains orders, but the ship moved smoothly away from the pier and slipped out to Sea. The direct route was fastest.
"All hands on Deck," Henry ordered as the thud of bare feet thundered onto the deck. "Good work men! We got here safe and will soon deliver our cargo. Mr Phipps will take names for shore leave, but I want no drunken sots on my crew! Hold yer liquor men and we'll go on to the next job!'
"Mr. Phipps!" Henry calls
"Aye Captain!" Mr Phipps responds
"Pick two men for me and two for the watch every 4 hours and see that the men get some time ashore!" Henry ordered
"Aye Captain!" Phipps responded with a slight cheer from the gathered men.
The men proceeded to unload the cargo of Elven Wine from the hold onto two large carts, then proceeded to walk into town for some entertainment and rest. Henry took his two sailors and directed the carts into town, turning into the seedier side of town down by the waterfront, where he halts them in front of an old Barn.
"Who goes there?" a voice challenges from the darkness.
"Morgenstern", replies Henry. At that a rogueish looking man, with a crossbow moves out of the shadows and glowers at Henry.
"You're Late! That'll cost ye the bonus." the man states. Henry nods and motions for his men to unload the carts and carry the cases into the building. The man throws a small leather pouch at Henry, who grabs it.
"Got any more work?" Henry asks the man, who shakes his head. Henry sighs and waits for his men to return to the carts. Henry motions for them to return, "Good work men, now Stow these carts and enjoy yer leave." Happily, the men race those carts back to the wharf, while Henry stays and considers his options. He then strides out in a new direction, toward the markets where he finds many of the vendors and stalls shuttered after a long day. Henry looks for closely at the shopfronts, and finds one with a carved Hand in the entryway, and starts to bang on the door with his fist.
A shuttered window in the door slides open, and in hushed tones a voice asks, "State yer business!"
"Morgenstern, looking for a job" Henry whispers to the door. The window slams shut and locks begin being unworked as the door then opens. Henry enters and the door slams shut again. He stands in a smithy workshop of chains, manacles and collars strewn about. A grizzled old man leads Henry to a back room, where a larger man sits, dressed in finer clothes, obese with beads of sweat rolling down his face as he makes notations in various ledgers on his desk.
"Master, Morgenstern's come about a job." the servant says and then retreats back to the shadows. The Man parks his inky quill and looks at Henry.
"Henry!!" the man exclaims heartily. "It's been a while. I almost gave up you'd come back to us!"
With a sigh, Henry feigns a smile, "Felix, you're looking as well as ever!" and embraces the man in assumed friendship. "Hey, ran into trouble off shore, got my shipment in late and looking for some coin to make up the loss. Ye got anything?" Henry asks.
Felix thinks a moment, then beams at him, "Why yes! There were some passengers looking for a ride to Galmair. Not slaves or nothin, these looked like serious folk. Best be careful with them. Are ye up for some Hand business too?" he asks.
"Whatever pays," Henry replies.
"Excellent!! Well while you're there, see about grabbing a couple elves for my market here. Afraid my stock has run low." Felix asks before depositing a bag of coin in Henry's hand. "A down payment. I know you're good for it." Felix mentions trustingly.
Henry remembers well during the years of profiteering for the Hand, that money given is money repaid or else. He nods.
"Excellent! Oh! We also have a contact there. Try to rendezvous with them to get the lay of the land. It may help ye with the job." Felix advises. Henry nods.
The rest of the evening is about old times and a few drinks are shared before Henry excuses himself to see to his ship. He strolls back and returns to his bunk with a sigh.
As dawn peeks through his cabin windows, Henry's got a splitting headache and a guilty conscience. "Ugh....Phipps!!" The first mate answers quickly and Henry tosses the coin purse to him, "See the ship is stocked and clear room for three passengers..." Phipps nods, closes the door and Henry rests a little longer.
Later, Henry steps on the deck and views the activities. Food and water casks are being loaded, crew morale is high and sheets are being rigged and stowed. "We sail within the hour!" he says to the quartermaster, who redoubles his efforts.
Meanwhile, three mysterious hooded figures board the ship and await the Captain. Henry approaches them and they whisper in hushed tones, and Henry motions to the hold where their bunks have been set up. They nod in thanks and head down the galleyway.
Henry surveys his ship and crew. Good, he thinks. We sail within the hour for Galmair, deliver the passengers, grab a couple of elves, and get the hell out of there. He never liked illarion and preferred not to stay there longer than necessary. The trip should take 6 hours by the coast, 4 if he went to open sea.
His mind then wandered to whoever sent those fireworks up. With some concern, he remembered that they're still out there, but where?
"Get underway! Batten down the hatches! You have the helm Phipps! As the crow flies please!" Crew scurried to hurriedly implement the Captains orders, but the ship moved smoothly away from the pier and slipped out to Sea. The direct route was fastest.
-
Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
As the Pig headed out for open ocean, the rolling swells of the coastal rollers rock her slightly, she sets course for Galmair direct, a course which will pass through the Northern Islands on the way, a common ambush point for pirates, who commonly moor near the wooded Isles to conceal themselves. Hugging the coast would have avoided them, but taken longer. Henry plots a point near Yeg, with it's flat, craggy landscape, the easier to watch for an ambush.
Three hours into the voyage, the Northern Isles neared in the eyeglass. Henry ordered preparations made such as boarding nets be placed, weapons stowed on deck and all hands to braces. He could relax once he's threaded between the islands.
Another 20 minutes, he'll be beyond them.
As the Pig approached Yeg, his lookout reported clear, no sign of moored ship or crew on the Island they could see.
"As you were!" Henry ordered, his crew remaining steadfast in their duties as the Pig started to draw near the island, hoping to pass the craggy Island quickly without incident. 10 more minutes....
Three hours into the voyage, the Northern Isles neared in the eyeglass. Henry ordered preparations made such as boarding nets be placed, weapons stowed on deck and all hands to braces. He could relax once he's threaded between the islands.
Another 20 minutes, he'll be beyond them.
As the Pig approached Yeg, his lookout reported clear, no sign of moored ship or crew on the Island they could see.
"As you were!" Henry ordered, his crew remaining steadfast in their duties as the Pig started to draw near the island, hoping to pass the craggy Island quickly without incident. 10 more minutes....
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Bones & Bees
The captain of the Sea-Pig knew exactly what he or she was doing. Julibe’s bees did little more than buzz—no direct leads on the crew’s whereabouts or where they fenced their smuggled goods. No boasting, no bragging, no wasted time on vice. Whoever led them must have heard a ticking like Julibe.
Some claimed coin was the great equalizer. They were wrong. Awareness of time set rivals apart. Efficiency was the real edge—the ability to weigh every factor, analyze the differences, and choose the course of least resistance. Toss in natural gifts and intuition, and nearly a decade had passed with Julibe and her crew thriving.
No one openly questioned her orders. She alone had earned the right to take the helm and call to the wind. They had their lives and their coin—what more could they ask of a captain? She never demanded a risk she wouldn’t take herself.
But even the best meet fate.
Time was a godless force. Julibe felt it pressing against her—sail away or press on?
“What say ye, Hal?” she asked her first mate, scanning charts in her quarters.
He didn’t answer right away. A bad sign. His arms folded, silence thick between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was like a tide pulling away.
“June weep the years I’m missin’. Ain’t never given back, Juli.”
Julibe scowled. “Curse you, Hal, I don’t need your rum thoughts!”
Halbert’s hands lifted with his shrug, but his absence was already written all over his face. She should have known better than to ask a man looking backward for an answer about the future.
“Get outta ‘ere if ya’ ain’t lendin’ help!”
He said nothing as he left, waving her away before closing the door behind him.
This decision would be Julibe’s alone. It had always been.
One score after another, over two scores in the making—tonight would be no different. She set the course.
She and the Jolly Be Jonesy would lie in wait at the Isle of Yeg with one scout left ashore. The Sea-Pig had no aversion to craggy shores, and Julibe wagered the other wooded shoal clusters would be avoided. That only left the main coastline, but their short history suggested the Sea-Pig liked a direct course, had no time to wait or chase thrills. There was only ever the shortest route—one point to another.
She’d been a fool not to see it sooner.
We don’t choose to change—unless something forces us.
𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪
Free will is like running water, downhill, but make no mistake, fate brings us to the precipice. Had Julibe known the company the Sea-Pig ferried, she’d have never left Burgeston. Instead, her bees failed, they’d lost Henry in the streets, they didn’t see the building he entered—the deal now threatening all their lives. Everyone’s day comes, the bonelord is in the details. For decades, she’d been a step ahead, building her empire, laying siege to norms.
Little did she know when her harpoons fired, sinking deep into the port side of the Sea-Pig, who she instigated into a fight.
“Ratchet and ho, bees! Heave that fat pig to me! Slaughter ‘em all! No quarter!”
Escape would be near impossible for the Sea-Pig, as twin ballistas fired harpoons on chains, both sinking deep into its flank. No longer relying on concealed ropes and parlor tricks, these tools for boarding came equipped with winches to force two ships into unholy matrimony.
As the winch crew sounded off, each ho brought the impending slaughter closer. Archers at the ready, deck reapers crouching low, grapplers high above her in the yards—all of them waiting for her order. Taut as a bowstring, louder than the beating sea, life and death roared from the other side. In the depths, you can feel Cherga crying her warnings, while the bonelord has you by the heart. You or them, the unspoken one always gets his due, and Julibe wanted hers too.
If it took bloodshed, so be it. She’d come to terms with her crimes long ago. Smuggling in her waters could not be tolerated, no chinks in the armor allowed.
“Let the sea wash it away, boys, ‘old steady!” she called out to her men as she ascended a ratline near the helm to make herself visible to the enemy—to let the pig know who led the slaughter.
Not woman or elfess came into view but a halflingess strapped in leathers and a bandolier teeming with dagger hilts. She stared out over the Sea-Pig. Like the skull and bees Jolly Roger overhead, she swayed in the breeze, welcoming all eyes on her.
All eyes on her, hoping no one saw her other weapon now within firing range.
Like the harpy she’d become, she shrieked, “Fire!”
Arrows loosed, followed by fireballs from her mage—seeking exposed targets. With a maniacal laugh, she welcomed the chaos, all else left to Nargun and the thirsty one squeezing her heart.
Some claimed coin was the great equalizer. They were wrong. Awareness of time set rivals apart. Efficiency was the real edge—the ability to weigh every factor, analyze the differences, and choose the course of least resistance. Toss in natural gifts and intuition, and nearly a decade had passed with Julibe and her crew thriving.
No one openly questioned her orders. She alone had earned the right to take the helm and call to the wind. They had their lives and their coin—what more could they ask of a captain? She never demanded a risk she wouldn’t take herself.
But even the best meet fate.
Time was a godless force. Julibe felt it pressing against her—sail away or press on?
“What say ye, Hal?” she asked her first mate, scanning charts in her quarters.
He didn’t answer right away. A bad sign. His arms folded, silence thick between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was like a tide pulling away.
“June weep the years I’m missin’. Ain’t never given back, Juli.”
Julibe scowled. “Curse you, Hal, I don’t need your rum thoughts!”
Halbert’s hands lifted with his shrug, but his absence was already written all over his face. She should have known better than to ask a man looking backward for an answer about the future.
“Get outta ‘ere if ya’ ain’t lendin’ help!”
He said nothing as he left, waving her away before closing the door behind him.
This decision would be Julibe’s alone. It had always been.
One score after another, over two scores in the making—tonight would be no different. She set the course.
She and the Jolly Be Jonesy would lie in wait at the Isle of Yeg with one scout left ashore. The Sea-Pig had no aversion to craggy shores, and Julibe wagered the other wooded shoal clusters would be avoided. That only left the main coastline, but their short history suggested the Sea-Pig liked a direct course, had no time to wait or chase thrills. There was only ever the shortest route—one point to another.
She’d been a fool not to see it sooner.
We don’t choose to change—unless something forces us.
𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪
Free will is like running water, downhill, but make no mistake, fate brings us to the precipice. Had Julibe known the company the Sea-Pig ferried, she’d have never left Burgeston. Instead, her bees failed, they’d lost Henry in the streets, they didn’t see the building he entered—the deal now threatening all their lives. Everyone’s day comes, the bonelord is in the details. For decades, she’d been a step ahead, building her empire, laying siege to norms.
Little did she know when her harpoons fired, sinking deep into the port side of the Sea-Pig, who she instigated into a fight.
“Ratchet and ho, bees! Heave that fat pig to me! Slaughter ‘em all! No quarter!”
Escape would be near impossible for the Sea-Pig, as twin ballistas fired harpoons on chains, both sinking deep into its flank. No longer relying on concealed ropes and parlor tricks, these tools for boarding came equipped with winches to force two ships into unholy matrimony.
As the winch crew sounded off, each ho brought the impending slaughter closer. Archers at the ready, deck reapers crouching low, grapplers high above her in the yards—all of them waiting for her order. Taut as a bowstring, louder than the beating sea, life and death roared from the other side. In the depths, you can feel Cherga crying her warnings, while the bonelord has you by the heart. You or them, the unspoken one always gets his due, and Julibe wanted hers too.
If it took bloodshed, so be it. She’d come to terms with her crimes long ago. Smuggling in her waters could not be tolerated, no chinks in the armor allowed.
“Let the sea wash it away, boys, ‘old steady!” she called out to her men as she ascended a ratline near the helm to make herself visible to the enemy—to let the pig know who led the slaughter.
Not woman or elfess came into view but a halflingess strapped in leathers and a bandolier teeming with dagger hilts. She stared out over the Sea-Pig. Like the skull and bees Jolly Roger overhead, she swayed in the breeze, welcoming all eyes on her.
All eyes on her, hoping no one saw her other weapon now within firing range.
Like the harpy she’d become, she shrieked, “Fire!”
Arrows loosed, followed by fireballs from her mage—seeking exposed targets. With a maniacal laugh, she welcomed the chaos, all else left to Nargun and the thirsty one squeezing her heart.
-
Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
As the Pig neared Yeg, the lookout reported no signs of danger on the little craggy island, but as she cleared the main crag, a small single masted vessel suddenly appeared and veered alongside, firing twin ballistas into the port side of the Pig!
"All hands to stations!! Prepare to repel Boarders!!" Henry yelled amidst the din of splinters flying and the moans of a few caught in the Harpoons deadly wake. As the Harpoons took hold and started to pull, He relayed another order, "Let fly the anchor!!" as the anchor was loosed on the starboard side, trailing rope fast.
Suddenly another shot, a fireball, exploded nearby, killing a crewman by the Ratlines. Another secured the burnt lines and sheets waiting for the boarders. Just then, the anchor caught and held fast, using the speed of the Pig, to jerk her to a halt forwards, but spinning her to the starboard, dragging the attacker's ship off course. Instead of a nice measured closing on the broadsides for easy boarding, the attacker's ship crashed into the stern of the Pig, sheets and rigging getting tangled, making a climb up over the stern harder.
"To the stern men!" Henry yelled as the crew ran and assembled on the Poop deck to repel the boarders, who started to clamber up and over the stern rail, but were cut down just as easily.
Just then three figures emerged from below surveying the scene unfolding and whispering to each other in hushed, calm tomes.
"All hands to stations!! Prepare to repel Boarders!!" Henry yelled amidst the din of splinters flying and the moans of a few caught in the Harpoons deadly wake. As the Harpoons took hold and started to pull, He relayed another order, "Let fly the anchor!!" as the anchor was loosed on the starboard side, trailing rope fast.
Suddenly another shot, a fireball, exploded nearby, killing a crewman by the Ratlines. Another secured the burnt lines and sheets waiting for the boarders. Just then, the anchor caught and held fast, using the speed of the Pig, to jerk her to a halt forwards, but spinning her to the starboard, dragging the attacker's ship off course. Instead of a nice measured closing on the broadsides for easy boarding, the attacker's ship crashed into the stern of the Pig, sheets and rigging getting tangled, making a climb up over the stern harder.
"To the stern men!" Henry yelled as the crew ran and assembled on the Poop deck to repel the boarders, who started to clamber up and over the stern rail, but were cut down just as easily.
Just then three figures emerged from below surveying the scene unfolding and whispering to each other in hushed, calm tomes.
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
((Sorry Dyluck, for me probably straying from the intended content. Here we go! Post No.1!))
*Spots is still asleep, circling between the clouds for hours now.
She dreams of hunting a little purple fish hiding between reflections of sun on the water.
Her weight is carried by upwinds and there is no need for her to wake up now.
Anyone willing to stare up to the sun and a little above, may have noticed the shape of the bird, miles up, for some time.*
The limbs of Rabbit are cramping from all the time hanging, at the harness of her companion, in the same direction.
Just some heartbeats away she heard the last words from Laura Thirdy, sounding as if whispered through the crackling noises
of the oneway connection: „Locatio ready. Prepare visualis.“
The heart paces, letting go from the handles of the harness, leaning fully into the supports.
Way down two tiny shapes close in to each other beside the wide rippling field of reflection.
Contrary wind pulls against the aching, moving arms.
As she pushes the locator upward, sting of cold harshly hits eyelids which are now closed firmly according to regulations.
Her hands grab blindly for the metal tube and add a second fastening belt, before extending it to full size with trained yet still insecure movement.
Rabbit places the smaller end of the tube near her right eye before she opens it.
Icy headwind pulls against the arms and bites into her tearing eye.
She blinks away before pressing the cloth clad socket close.
Whirling blue and white mingle in sight as trembling hands struggle to keep focus as the device adapts.
Fuzzy white and grey pass by and all of a sudden the two vessels come in clearly, one directed halfway against the other.
Deep blue is glittering with speckles of low tide.
Tiny spots fidget over the decks of the ships, gathering closer to the point of contact, mingling, some flashes are seen and smoke surges.
Everything happens in silence, only the wind is blustering.
Some tears fall into the ocean.
*Spots is still asleep, circling between the clouds for hours now.
She dreams of hunting a little purple fish hiding between reflections of sun on the water.
Her weight is carried by upwinds and there is no need for her to wake up now.
Anyone willing to stare up to the sun and a little above, may have noticed the shape of the bird, miles up, for some time.*
The limbs of Rabbit are cramping from all the time hanging, at the harness of her companion, in the same direction.
Just some heartbeats away she heard the last words from Laura Thirdy, sounding as if whispered through the crackling noises
of the oneway connection: „Locatio ready. Prepare visualis.“
The heart paces, letting go from the handles of the harness, leaning fully into the supports.
Way down two tiny shapes close in to each other beside the wide rippling field of reflection.
Contrary wind pulls against the aching, moving arms.
As she pushes the locator upward, sting of cold harshly hits eyelids which are now closed firmly according to regulations.
Her hands grab blindly for the metal tube and add a second fastening belt, before extending it to full size with trained yet still insecure movement.
Rabbit places the smaller end of the tube near her right eye before she opens it.
Icy headwind pulls against the arms and bites into her tearing eye.
She blinks away before pressing the cloth clad socket close.
Whirling blue and white mingle in sight as trembling hands struggle to keep focus as the device adapts.
Fuzzy white and grey pass by and all of a sudden the two vessels come in clearly, one directed halfway against the other.
Deep blue is glittering with speckles of low tide.
Tiny spots fidget over the decks of the ships, gathering closer to the point of contact, mingling, some flashes are seen and smoke surges.
Everything happens in silence, only the wind is blustering.
Some tears fall into the ocean.
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Advent Rising
((Welcome aboard the story!))
Stern-to-broadside—the advantage swung to the Sea-Pig. The narrow engagement meant fewer men could hold the line, and with the high ground of their quarterdeck, they needed even fewer.
Tick, tick, tock. From the ratlines, Julibe spotted the anchor orders. She knew—the deckhands’ movements gave them away. She leaped back to the helm, waiting for the final signs. She trusted the sway in her gut, the pull of her legs, her eyes on the sudden, violent movement to come.
Masts would tangle. The Sea-Pig’s captain picked his moment well. A lesser captain would’ve panicked—ordered a rushed boarding, some desperate sabotage.
Too many lives would be lost hurling men at the stern. No—the right move required fate and timing.
Tick, tick—
“Pluck out their eyes, boys! Fire again!”
The Sea-Pig’s draught sat too high. It needed to be a fair fight again. That was Julibe’s gift—positioning her men for success. She’d always given them a fighting chance. Riches in their name, blood when it all boiled over.
Today was one of those days. The spoils were lost. Her men wanted them back in blood.
The Sea-Pig’s anchor would hold her—but only if she could still relay orders back to her captain. The sea and the fates be damned, Julibe could still set her ship’s mast across the Sea-Pig’s favorably. Tick, tick—
She turned the helm.
She gave the silent order—halt wenching the harpoons.
Had she been caught in a squall, the heave would’ve sent flying fish through her stomach. But this? This was something different. The Sea-Pig’s anchor maneuver stoked the furnace in her gut.
The Jolly-Be swung.
Tick, tick—
Julibe turned the helm again.
Waited.
At the last possible moment, she whirled the wheel.
The Jolly-Be held— just long enough to wrap around the Sea-Pig’s mast before its stern tested more than her hull.
“Weigh anchor! Bow ho!”
Two orders. Her men knew their lives were on the line.
The first would be brutal—the Jolly-Be’s mast yanked hard against the Sea-Pig’s. If her own mast snapped, they’d still be free enough for the wenches to bring them right. If the Sea-Pig’s mast failed? Then a forest of rigging, sails, and dead men would collapse onto their stern.
The second order—the bow harpoon.
That final leverage would wrench her ship around like a caressing hand and drag them back into a line battle. Broadside to broadside before she released her anchor to propel them forward swiftly and without warning.
Then? It would be one crew against another.
Julibe would hold the helm, watching.
Waiting.
For one last throw of the bones if anything presented itself.
Just then, her first-mate whispered in her ear, “Mast on the horizon, souw-by-souwest.”
Julibe cursed, then replied evenly, “have Jace keep eyes and yell if they seek a fight.”
Stern-to-broadside—the advantage swung to the Sea-Pig. The narrow engagement meant fewer men could hold the line, and with the high ground of their quarterdeck, they needed even fewer.
Tick, tick, tock. From the ratlines, Julibe spotted the anchor orders. She knew—the deckhands’ movements gave them away. She leaped back to the helm, waiting for the final signs. She trusted the sway in her gut, the pull of her legs, her eyes on the sudden, violent movement to come.
Masts would tangle. The Sea-Pig’s captain picked his moment well. A lesser captain would’ve panicked—ordered a rushed boarding, some desperate sabotage.
Too many lives would be lost hurling men at the stern. No—the right move required fate and timing.
Tick, tick—
“Pluck out their eyes, boys! Fire again!”
The Sea-Pig’s draught sat too high. It needed to be a fair fight again. That was Julibe’s gift—positioning her men for success. She’d always given them a fighting chance. Riches in their name, blood when it all boiled over.
Today was one of those days. The spoils were lost. Her men wanted them back in blood.
The Sea-Pig’s anchor would hold her—but only if she could still relay orders back to her captain. The sea and the fates be damned, Julibe could still set her ship’s mast across the Sea-Pig’s favorably. Tick, tick—
She turned the helm.
She gave the silent order—halt wenching the harpoons.
Had she been caught in a squall, the heave would’ve sent flying fish through her stomach. But this? This was something different. The Sea-Pig’s anchor maneuver stoked the furnace in her gut.
The Jolly-Be swung.
Tick, tick—
Julibe turned the helm again.
Waited.
At the last possible moment, she whirled the wheel.
The Jolly-Be held— just long enough to wrap around the Sea-Pig’s mast before its stern tested more than her hull.
“Weigh anchor! Bow ho!”
Two orders. Her men knew their lives were on the line.
The first would be brutal—the Jolly-Be’s mast yanked hard against the Sea-Pig’s. If her own mast snapped, they’d still be free enough for the wenches to bring them right. If the Sea-Pig’s mast failed? Then a forest of rigging, sails, and dead men would collapse onto their stern.
The second order—the bow harpoon.
That final leverage would wrench her ship around like a caressing hand and drag them back into a line battle. Broadside to broadside before she released her anchor to propel them forward swiftly and without warning.
Then? It would be one crew against another.
Julibe would hold the helm, watching.
Waiting.
For one last throw of the bones if anything presented itself.
Just then, her first-mate whispered in her ear, “Mast on the horizon, souw-by-souwest.”
Julibe cursed, then replied evenly, “have Jace keep eyes and yell if they seek a fight.”
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Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
On board the quarterdeck of the Pig, the men held firm against the Stern walls cutting the men down as they clambered up the twisted lines up the Stern.
"What's the Captain thinking," Henry mumbled and would steal glances over the rail to view the commotion below. The Sea-Pig sat high in the water due to lack of heavy Cargo, but an experienced Captain should have known that. No, this was something else. Revenge maybe?
Henry shrugged off his thoughts and gathered three men for a mission to try to release each of the Harpoon bolts from the sides of the pig. Quickly they rushed off to comply.
Briefly, he noticed his passengers had surfaced and yet now there were two. He scanned the flurry of activity on the Deck and couldn't see the other. The remaining two seemed calm and still amidst the flurry of activity, covered in their cowled robes. I just hope they stay out of trouble, Henry thought to himself.
"Phipps!" Henry bellowed, the Mate arriving on the quick. "Get them bombs we got in Gynk. Let's drop a few down on them!" Phipps smiled evilly and ran to gather the precious case from the stores.
"Sail-Ho!" a crewman cried.
Henry ran to the starboard rail and looked, "Where away?" he bellowed.
"South by South-west sir!" the crewman cried.
Henry scanned the horizon not knowing if this new development meant friend or foe.
"What's the Captain thinking," Henry mumbled and would steal glances over the rail to view the commotion below. The Sea-Pig sat high in the water due to lack of heavy Cargo, but an experienced Captain should have known that. No, this was something else. Revenge maybe?
Henry shrugged off his thoughts and gathered three men for a mission to try to release each of the Harpoon bolts from the sides of the pig. Quickly they rushed off to comply.
Briefly, he noticed his passengers had surfaced and yet now there were two. He scanned the flurry of activity on the Deck and couldn't see the other. The remaining two seemed calm and still amidst the flurry of activity, covered in their cowled robes. I just hope they stay out of trouble, Henry thought to himself.
"Phipps!" Henry bellowed, the Mate arriving on the quick. "Get them bombs we got in Gynk. Let's drop a few down on them!" Phipps smiled evilly and ran to gather the precious case from the stores.
"Sail-Ho!" a crewman cried.
Henry ran to the starboard rail and looked, "Where away?" he bellowed.
"South by South-west sir!" the crewman cried.
Henry scanned the horizon not knowing if this new development meant friend or foe.
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Fire with Fire
The Jolly-Be groaned like a wounded beast, her mast straining against the tangled grip of the Sea-Pig. Julibe could feel the tension in her bones, in the deck beneath her feet. The ships weren’t just locked in battle—they were bound now, mast to mast, fate to fate.
Steel clashed in the chaos of the boarding, her men scrambling up the Sea-Pig’s stern, cutting their way through defenders. Then—a cry from above. One of her boarders, a wiry man with a red scarf, heard it first. “They’ve got bombs—!” His warning was cut short by a blade to his throat. He staggered, eyes wide, before toppling backward into the churning sea below.
Julibe’s blood ran cold.
“Too slow,” she muttered, before throwing her voice across the deck. “Archers! Flaming arrows—light their stores before they light us!”
Sailors scrambled to the braziers, torches flaring as arrows caught fire. She turned to her mage, the storm-eyed sorcerer gripping his staff. “Focus your power on their deck—let’s see them fumble for their bombs in a sea of fire.”
A hiss of arcane words, the scent of burning air—then a volley of fiery darts and fireballs surged forth, licking across the deck of the Sea-Pig. Screams followed. A powder keg of panic, ready to explode.
And then—a sound that froze the marrow. A deep, terrible crack.
Julibe’s breath caught. Which mast had given way, hers or the Pig’s?
Steel clashed in the chaos of the boarding, her men scrambling up the Sea-Pig’s stern, cutting their way through defenders. Then—a cry from above. One of her boarders, a wiry man with a red scarf, heard it first. “They’ve got bombs—!” His warning was cut short by a blade to his throat. He staggered, eyes wide, before toppling backward into the churning sea below.
Julibe’s blood ran cold.
“Too slow,” she muttered, before throwing her voice across the deck. “Archers! Flaming arrows—light their stores before they light us!”
Sailors scrambled to the braziers, torches flaring as arrows caught fire. She turned to her mage, the storm-eyed sorcerer gripping his staff. “Focus your power on their deck—let’s see them fumble for their bombs in a sea of fire.”
A hiss of arcane words, the scent of burning air—then a volley of fiery darts and fireballs surged forth, licking across the deck of the Sea-Pig. Screams followed. A powder keg of panic, ready to explode.
And then—a sound that froze the marrow. A deep, terrible crack.
Julibe’s breath caught. Which mast had given way, hers or the Pig’s?
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Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
Fire exploded about them, screams of pain, blood and chaos.
Over the stern rail the enemy clambered over despite his men's best efforts. The bombs had arrived, but they were too dangerous to use directly. Henry gave a couple to Phipps to throw overboard, but as he gathered a couple for himself another explosion nearby caused a halfhearted throw of a Bomb went askew as Phipps' arm burned in seething pain. The bottle with the precious liquid went flying off the target of the stern, toward amidships, where it exploded with a deafening Boom.
Henry ran to cover his first mate with his cloak, smothering the fire upon his arm. "Get below" he ordered Phipps.
Then there was a chilling "Crack" in the Main Mast on the other ship, as the Bomb had weakened the ropes and wood holding the ships together, their Mast straining from the Tug of War between the vessels, and finally cracking under the pressure. Sail and Timber twisted wickedly, ropes straining and snapping, smacking sailors friend and foe off their feet, scrambling in terror. They well knew going overboard with rope around, or sail over, you meant death, if you didn't get smashed first of course.
Henry pushed Phipps down toward the hold, and grabbed his Rapier, rushing to reinforce the Stern Rail from boarders. As he viewed the carnage, he saw his quarry, still bellowing orders from her ship. Julibee! He should have known! He cut down one sailor, then another as his crew rallied behind him and he regained the advantage of the Quarterdeck.
"What will she do next?" Henry thought. Just then he noticed, a shadowy figure climbing up the anchor rope of the enemy ship un-noticed like a thief in the night, feet away from Julibee. How did one of his passengers get over there!
Over the stern rail the enemy clambered over despite his men's best efforts. The bombs had arrived, but they were too dangerous to use directly. Henry gave a couple to Phipps to throw overboard, but as he gathered a couple for himself another explosion nearby caused a halfhearted throw of a Bomb went askew as Phipps' arm burned in seething pain. The bottle with the precious liquid went flying off the target of the stern, toward amidships, where it exploded with a deafening Boom.
Henry ran to cover his first mate with his cloak, smothering the fire upon his arm. "Get below" he ordered Phipps.
Then there was a chilling "Crack" in the Main Mast on the other ship, as the Bomb had weakened the ropes and wood holding the ships together, their Mast straining from the Tug of War between the vessels, and finally cracking under the pressure. Sail and Timber twisted wickedly, ropes straining and snapping, smacking sailors friend and foe off their feet, scrambling in terror. They well knew going overboard with rope around, or sail over, you meant death, if you didn't get smashed first of course.
Henry pushed Phipps down toward the hold, and grabbed his Rapier, rushing to reinforce the Stern Rail from boarders. As he viewed the carnage, he saw his quarry, still bellowing orders from her ship. Julibee! He should have known! He cut down one sailor, then another as his crew rallied behind him and he regained the advantage of the Quarterdeck.
"What will she do next?" Henry thought. Just then he noticed, a shadowy figure climbing up the anchor rope of the enemy ship un-noticed like a thief in the night, feet away from Julibee. How did one of his passengers get over there!
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Swan Song
The world lurched beneath Julibe’s feet as the main mast cracked like a dying beast. Wood splintered, ropes snapped like a chorus of whips, and the sail twisted in its death throes. She barely ducked as a rigging line lashed past, taking a man clear overboard.
The battle was shifting. Her archers still loosed flaming arrows into the Sea-Pig’s deck, but now her own ship was buckling under the strain. The mast hadn’t fallen yet—but when it did, it could take half the ship with it.
Julibe wiped sweat from her brow, smearing soot and blood. The fire was working—panic was setting in aboard the Sea-Pig. But panic was a wild thing—it could turn on you just as easily.
“Steady, lads!” she bellowed, even as her men struggled to keep their footing. She grabbed hold of the helm, knuckles white. If the mast was lost, she had to use it—drive the Jolly-Be forward, crash the dead weight into the enemy deck, tangle them together in the wreckage and decide the fight up close.
Then, movement—just at the edge of her vision. A figure—wrong, too smooth, too quiet—climbing up the anchor rope.
Her pulse slammed against her ribs. Not one of hers.
Not one of Henry’s either.
“Julian!” she snarled at the mage, eyes locked and pointed toward the creeping shadow. “Turn your fire downward—now!”
The battle was shifting. Her archers still loosed flaming arrows into the Sea-Pig’s deck, but now her own ship was buckling under the strain. The mast hadn’t fallen yet—but when it did, it could take half the ship with it.
Julibe wiped sweat from her brow, smearing soot and blood. The fire was working—panic was setting in aboard the Sea-Pig. But panic was a wild thing—it could turn on you just as easily.
“Steady, lads!” she bellowed, even as her men struggled to keep their footing. She grabbed hold of the helm, knuckles white. If the mast was lost, she had to use it—drive the Jolly-Be forward, crash the dead weight into the enemy deck, tangle them together in the wreckage and decide the fight up close.
Then, movement—just at the edge of her vision. A figure—wrong, too smooth, too quiet—climbing up the anchor rope.
Her pulse slammed against her ribs. Not one of hers.
Not one of Henry’s either.
“Julian!” she snarled at the mage, eyes locked and pointed toward the creeping shadow. “Turn your fire downward—now!”
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
*One of the bombs sinks into the deepening blue of the ocean, the outside of the matchcord still bubbling and eventually to cease.*
*Kang-Arr, dock of ANS Remnant.
Huge doors towards the drydock are closed.
Receiving bell is ringing slowly, the bottom of the dockhall is lit by warm oil light and above the dark is looming,
echoing the steady pulse of the bell.
Scoopers in their plain leather dresses scurry from the middle and low vat level towards landside of the dockhall to gather in the higher situated ranks,
whispering voices can be heard.
Seven silvershiny Lauras stand in a circle on the platform surrounding the opening of the big slide towards the first vat sideways,
holding receiving staves upward, their bases still resting on metal of the polygon.
The receiving pole, rising from the base of the vat and running up all to the ceiling and far above through it,
emits cracking noises and the surrounding surface of the rosy slime of the vat erupts in fine, concentric ripples.*
*Coldlands, Brokenmast wreckage.
Voices whisper in in the dark, as the image of two ships from above has faded, some giggling can be heard.
Laura Thirdy stands looking upward in the middle of others like her, them holding hands in a circle, all looking at her.
Manydozen eyes in the ranks gaze into the dark of the chamber, now and then the pulsing bluish structure of the grid shimmering above them beeing the only light.
Laura Thirdy rises hands and starts counting out the knots of the column grid, voice firm in certainty.*
*Above the ocean, above a battle.
Spots had opened her eyes about the time when her compainon finished storing the yellowshiny metal tube back in its casket,
her fully extended wings taking some tiny swings and finally contracting the tips a little backward to induce a downward spiral.
Eyes closed within the replaced locator, Rabbit has finished to prepare the buoy basket and is loosening the ending of the receiver chain from its coiler,
running gloved fingers over the chain segments again and again.
Following the slow repeating numbers of of Laura Thirdy, Rabbit counts numbers of segment rows three times every time, before to continue.
She attaches the chain to the tops of the buoys bit by bit.
The bird changing to downward spiral makes the glittery silver of Rabbits suit clearly to be seen from below.*
((Please would anyone/everyone participating throw 3d6 and please tell me each the three results? This has to to with the buoys.
Also please determine magical resistance of the involved characters approximately, no need to express these right now. 0-100))
((Post No.2. Creators forgive me! There is lots of manical energy to be relieved!))
*Kang-Arr, dock of ANS Remnant.
Huge doors towards the drydock are closed.
Receiving bell is ringing slowly, the bottom of the dockhall is lit by warm oil light and above the dark is looming,
echoing the steady pulse of the bell.
Scoopers in their plain leather dresses scurry from the middle and low vat level towards landside of the dockhall to gather in the higher situated ranks,
whispering voices can be heard.
Seven silvershiny Lauras stand in a circle on the platform surrounding the opening of the big slide towards the first vat sideways,
holding receiving staves upward, their bases still resting on metal of the polygon.
The receiving pole, rising from the base of the vat and running up all to the ceiling and far above through it,
emits cracking noises and the surrounding surface of the rosy slime of the vat erupts in fine, concentric ripples.*
*Coldlands, Brokenmast wreckage.
Voices whisper in in the dark, as the image of two ships from above has faded, some giggling can be heard.
Laura Thirdy stands looking upward in the middle of others like her, them holding hands in a circle, all looking at her.
Manydozen eyes in the ranks gaze into the dark of the chamber, now and then the pulsing bluish structure of the grid shimmering above them beeing the only light.
Laura Thirdy rises hands and starts counting out the knots of the column grid, voice firm in certainty.*
*Above the ocean, above a battle.
Spots had opened her eyes about the time when her compainon finished storing the yellowshiny metal tube back in its casket,
her fully extended wings taking some tiny swings and finally contracting the tips a little backward to induce a downward spiral.
Eyes closed within the replaced locator, Rabbit has finished to prepare the buoy basket and is loosening the ending of the receiver chain from its coiler,
running gloved fingers over the chain segments again and again.
Following the slow repeating numbers of of Laura Thirdy, Rabbit counts numbers of segment rows three times every time, before to continue.
She attaches the chain to the tops of the buoys bit by bit.
The bird changing to downward spiral makes the glittery silver of Rabbits suit clearly to be seen from below.*
((Please would anyone/everyone participating throw 3d6 and please tell me each the three results? This has to to with the buoys.
Also please determine magical resistance of the involved characters approximately, no need to express these right now. 0-100))
((Post No.2. Creators forgive me! There is lots of manical energy to be relieved!))
-
Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
((@Garlica - Please read the simple rules at the beginning, "No forced RP. RP has to conform to what is available or reasonable (eg. longer ropes, lead, special flags or other types of boats) within Illarion, so no cannons, flintlocks, etc." What exactly are your "Buoys"? And why make us roll dice? No, sorry. I am not sure what you are trying to do, it is very confusing and doesn't seem to fit with the story. We will ignore the last post, so please rephrase your actions within the story. Thank you.))
...Crawling...silence...inch by slippery inch unseen....up the anchor rope while explosions create distractions, perfect! the assassin thought. Suddenly a cry from above, "Julian! Turn your fire downward now!" Seconds stretched into eternity....grab knives... flip under the rope... aim for the voice... Pain as fire enveloped his chest... 3 knives thrown off target... falling into the cool water... sinking and the sweet sleep of darkness...
From the Quarterdeck, Henry watched as the assassin on the anchor rope suddenly erupted into flame, but not before 3 knives flew from his hands upwards, grazing Julibee on the cheek, but hitting her mage "Julian" square in the head, his body slumping to the deck. Henry gives a thoughtful nod to the unknown assassin as he resumes the battle to cut down the remaining crew clamoring for control as fires erupt around them.
He quickly glances to his passengers on the deck, and they seem to be pacing, deciding what to do next. Henry is about to yell at them to get below, but they suddenly leap over the deck rails to board the invading ship, rare black steel rapiers drawn and start cutting down anyone in their path as they make their way to her Captain.
"Move them timbers! Cut them Lines!" Henry bellows as the fighting continues. When that Mast goes, he doesn't want to be dragged along with it. "Clear away!!" Focus...Battle...Save the Men and the Ship....Get out of this alive! Henry thinks.
...Crawling...silence...inch by slippery inch unseen....up the anchor rope while explosions create distractions, perfect! the assassin thought. Suddenly a cry from above, "Julian! Turn your fire downward now!" Seconds stretched into eternity....grab knives... flip under the rope... aim for the voice... Pain as fire enveloped his chest... 3 knives thrown off target... falling into the cool water... sinking and the sweet sleep of darkness...
From the Quarterdeck, Henry watched as the assassin on the anchor rope suddenly erupted into flame, but not before 3 knives flew from his hands upwards, grazing Julibee on the cheek, but hitting her mage "Julian" square in the head, his body slumping to the deck. Henry gives a thoughtful nod to the unknown assassin as he resumes the battle to cut down the remaining crew clamoring for control as fires erupt around them.
He quickly glances to his passengers on the deck, and they seem to be pacing, deciding what to do next. Henry is about to yell at them to get below, but they suddenly leap over the deck rails to board the invading ship, rare black steel rapiers drawn and start cutting down anyone in their path as they make their way to her Captain.
"Move them timbers! Cut them Lines!" Henry bellows as the fighting continues. When that Mast goes, he doesn't want to be dragged along with it. "Clear away!!" Focus...Battle...Save the Men and the Ship....Get out of this alive! Henry thinks.
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Nala Thorhild
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sun Dec 15, 2024 1:09 am
Bones to the Depths
The splintering crack of the mast drowned out the screams, a death knell for her ship, her crew—her gamble. Julibe staggered, boots slipping on blood-slicked planks as the assassin’s blade tore through the air where she’d stood a moment before. The mage was gone, a knife buried to the hilt in his skull, his unspoken spell lost to the wind. This was her fault. She had played the game too long, danced in the dark one step ahead—until she wasn’t. But she wasn’t dead. Not yet. She twisted, ducked, survival clawing through her like fire in dry timber, but as she lunged for the fallen assassin’s dagger, something wrenched—no, coiled—around her boot. A scream caught in her throat as the broken rigging snatched her from the deck, dragging her past the shattered mast, past the bodies, past the dying flames flickering in the salt-choked air. And then—cold. The sea swallowed her whole.
...Jolly Be, Be Jonesy
See
See
Beneath the Sea, Sea, Sea...
...Jolly Be, Be Jonesy
See
See
Beneath the Sea, Sea, Sea...
-
Juniper Onyx
- Master NPC Scripter
- Posts: 1812
- Joined: Mon May 22, 2006 12:13 am
- Location: Columbia, MO USA
Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((Open RP))
With Julibee gone, the enemy crew's morale collapses. The handful left surrender and scramble onto the Pig before the decks are awash in a slurry of blood, flesh and salty sea.
"Cut away them lines, stow that wreckage!" Henry bellows at the crew, fervently trying to detach themselves from the sinking ship. The crew hop to it, weary after their battle, and cut away the connections quickly. The Pig then lurches with the release and moves away as the other ship sinks slowly into the Syrita Sea.
"Jury-rig us a spar and hoist a Jib there!" Henry orders, "Prisoners taken down below!"
The crew manage to rig a makeshift sail to a weakened mainmast, enough to start to pull away from the battle slowly. The rudder bites and the Pig steers for the Galmair Harbour only 20 leagues away. Less than an hour to go, Henry calculates, to safety and repairs.
He remembers something suddenly and orders a man aloft to look for sail. The crewman scrambles up the port ratlines and peers across the horizon, yelling "Sail Ho!"
"Where away?" Henry bellowed. The reply was still "Sou' by Sou' west!" the crewman peers some more, "receding sir!"
Henry nods, confident in the Pig's safety for the next hour and starts tending to his injured crew. He'll have to deal with the prisoners later and convince them to join his merry little band.
An hour later, a wounded Pig slides into the Harbour at Galmair with a moan and gait of an elderly cripple. Ropes are tied and fees are paid to the Harbor-master. His two mysterious passengers give their thanks to Henry as they depart and vanish into the night. Henry looks to his supplies and a Ship wright while his crew are given shore leave, several of whom visit the local Medico, and most visit a new Saloon at the Harbor. The damages are extensive, so It'll be a month or more before the Pig flies again.
((End of this Story, but the adventures of Henry are just beginning!
))
"Cut away them lines, stow that wreckage!" Henry bellows at the crew, fervently trying to detach themselves from the sinking ship. The crew hop to it, weary after their battle, and cut away the connections quickly. The Pig then lurches with the release and moves away as the other ship sinks slowly into the Syrita Sea.
"Jury-rig us a spar and hoist a Jib there!" Henry orders, "Prisoners taken down below!"
The crew manage to rig a makeshift sail to a weakened mainmast, enough to start to pull away from the battle slowly. The rudder bites and the Pig steers for the Galmair Harbour only 20 leagues away. Less than an hour to go, Henry calculates, to safety and repairs.
He remembers something suddenly and orders a man aloft to look for sail. The crewman scrambles up the port ratlines and peers across the horizon, yelling "Sail Ho!"
"Where away?" Henry bellowed. The reply was still "Sou' by Sou' west!" the crewman peers some more, "receding sir!"
Henry nods, confident in the Pig's safety for the next hour and starts tending to his injured crew. He'll have to deal with the prisoners later and convince them to join his merry little band.
An hour later, a wounded Pig slides into the Harbour at Galmair with a moan and gait of an elderly cripple. Ropes are tied and fees are paid to the Harbor-master. His two mysterious passengers give their thanks to Henry as they depart and vanish into the night. Henry looks to his supplies and a Ship wright while his crew are given shore leave, several of whom visit the local Medico, and most visit a new Saloon at the Harbor. The damages are extensive, so It'll be a month or more before the Pig flies again.
((End of this Story, but the adventures of Henry are just beginning!
))Re: Voyage of the Sea-Pig ((closed))
((Post No. 9))
(( I will simply assume the arcane resistance of your deadly wounded chars as infinite. ; - )
Man, you were my mentor. Better arrange with what i`ve become. You can`t just wish the consequences away!))
(((1=Number of columns available //
2=number of variation possible for drop//
3=number of buoys needed for full receiving cap.
- > five buoys available.
The outcome of PO Nala was:
1=4 - > High ammount on my side,
2=6 - > Maximum variation possible, so it does not matter whether i just hit the ropes!!!
3=3 - > Low throw on her side.
Sooo… i can, plainly, receive any number of dying bodies from the vincinity of her wreck, NONE for/from yours.
Oh yes, you could have recovered at least one of the buoys! And yes! I could have sendt in three dozens of Harlekin Lauras!))
*Battlesite.
Unknown infinite magical forces make the white bird and its rider disappear with a sudden POOF!,
completely unwounded, further inquiry impossible. The chain of buoys hits the water surface.*
* Coldlands, Brokenmast wreckage.
A voice from the highest ranks shouts: *
„We`re beeing tracked!„
* With both hands clenching to fists Laura Thirdy disrupts the connection, letting the projection of the columns disappear,
making any further tracking attempts impossible. *
* Kang-Arr, dock of ANS Remnant.
Complete silence upon the lower ranks.
With plopping sounds pinkish clouds appear above the receiving platform, the Lauras starting their everyday work wordlessy,
each one, one at a time directing one of the clouds towards the opening of the first slide, which sucks in the fog vigourously.
The receiving coils of the slide emit loud banging noises upon every retrieval as the bodies materialize
and make their way down to the first vat.
The structure of the Rosy Slime wobbles a bit on its surface, and it beeing lighter then water, the bodies gather at the bottom of the vat.
Bluish sparks jump upward along the receiving column.
Every wound of every dying body glazes over with white slime, preventing any further bloodloss.
Broken bones are mended by hand in latter vats, surrounded by what the Scoopers call choppingblocks.
Every saved victim has a fully numbed conciousness and memory loss of three days to one week,
whilst memory access might only be attempted after beeing removed from the slime for a duration longer then about three hours.
These are very happy victims indeed. *
* Battlesite, sixhundred heartbeats later.
With a plopping sound all five buoys disappear from the deployment site, making any further inquiry impossible.
Hours later a bomb detonates at the ocean floor, doing damage to a welded copperbox which had been laying there for decades.
The contained specimen has been heavyly damaged and it will take several months to regenerate.
After that it will long for the nearest land contact, as it`s true powers are heavily impeded by the surrounding water.*
((Oh, my, that`s Galmair harbour! And it looks like a plain shrimp in its current development cycle!))
* Kang-Arr, dock of ANS Remnant, some hours later, daytime.
A Laura points at one of the received bodies, vaguely visible at the bottom of the vat and explains to a group of Scoopers:*
„The bubbles surrounding the body in a layer of purple slime indicates a strong manafield of the concerning unit and it is well fit for extended use…
Making …her... perfect to maybe become a future sister.
It will be up to her though, because . . . she. . . will be free.
Remember! No Purples shall ever be shrinked to mere slimebase!
She will be fine as she reaches vat number three.
Please continue on your duties now, sisters!“
(( I will simply assume the arcane resistance of your deadly wounded chars as infinite. ; - )
Man, you were my mentor. Better arrange with what i`ve become. You can`t just wish the consequences away!))
(((1=Number of columns available //
2=number of variation possible for drop//
3=number of buoys needed for full receiving cap.
- > five buoys available.
The outcome of PO Nala was:
1=4 - > High ammount on my side,
2=6 - > Maximum variation possible, so it does not matter whether i just hit the ropes!!!
3=3 - > Low throw on her side.
Sooo… i can, plainly, receive any number of dying bodies from the vincinity of her wreck, NONE for/from yours.
Oh yes, you could have recovered at least one of the buoys! And yes! I could have sendt in three dozens of Harlekin Lauras!))
*Battlesite.
Unknown infinite magical forces make the white bird and its rider disappear with a sudden POOF!,
completely unwounded, further inquiry impossible. The chain of buoys hits the water surface.*
* Coldlands, Brokenmast wreckage.
A voice from the highest ranks shouts: *
„We`re beeing tracked!„
* With both hands clenching to fists Laura Thirdy disrupts the connection, letting the projection of the columns disappear,
making any further tracking attempts impossible. *
* Kang-Arr, dock of ANS Remnant.
Complete silence upon the lower ranks.
With plopping sounds pinkish clouds appear above the receiving platform, the Lauras starting their everyday work wordlessy,
each one, one at a time directing one of the clouds towards the opening of the first slide, which sucks in the fog vigourously.
The receiving coils of the slide emit loud banging noises upon every retrieval as the bodies materialize
and make their way down to the first vat.
The structure of the Rosy Slime wobbles a bit on its surface, and it beeing lighter then water, the bodies gather at the bottom of the vat.
Bluish sparks jump upward along the receiving column.
Every wound of every dying body glazes over with white slime, preventing any further bloodloss.
Broken bones are mended by hand in latter vats, surrounded by what the Scoopers call choppingblocks.
Every saved victim has a fully numbed conciousness and memory loss of three days to one week,
whilst memory access might only be attempted after beeing removed from the slime for a duration longer then about three hours.
These are very happy victims indeed. *
* Battlesite, sixhundred heartbeats later.
With a plopping sound all five buoys disappear from the deployment site, making any further inquiry impossible.
Hours later a bomb detonates at the ocean floor, doing damage to a welded copperbox which had been laying there for decades.
The contained specimen has been heavyly damaged and it will take several months to regenerate.
After that it will long for the nearest land contact, as it`s true powers are heavily impeded by the surrounding water.*
((Oh, my, that`s Galmair harbour! And it looks like a plain shrimp in its current development cycle!))
* Kang-Arr, dock of ANS Remnant, some hours later, daytime.
A Laura points at one of the received bodies, vaguely visible at the bottom of the vat and explains to a group of Scoopers:*
„The bubbles surrounding the body in a layer of purple slime indicates a strong manafield of the concerning unit and it is well fit for extended use…
Making …her... perfect to maybe become a future sister.
It will be up to her though, because . . . she. . . will be free.
Remember! No Purples shall ever be shrinked to mere slimebase!
She will be fine as she reaches vat number three.
Please continue on your duties now, sisters!“