The Bull and the Snake-eyed Songaskia.
In the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm. As far as the eye could see there were gentle winds and equally gentle waves that lapped against the hull of the recently careened Girobaldan fregat, Pez Globo.
The crew was lazy. They'd been at sea for two weeks without seeing a single ship. It had become increasingly clear to the young Captain that the previously escaped merchant vessel made it to it's destination without negative instance. The past Captain had allowed the crew to flee.
In the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm, but there was a growing tenseness amongst the crew - and more importantly, the Captain.
The Captain: A young and ambitious twenty year old. He was built like a bull with an attitude to match. He'd won the respect of his fellow crewmates just weeks before and overthrew the old Captain - he'd been growing soft and ruining the reputation of their ship. The crew knew it was only a matter of time until the Songaskia sent a ship to stop the interruption to their slave routes.
But still, in the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm. The harsh Farah'deen sunlight beat down on the crew relentlessly—
"Navio de estibordo à ré!"
All of a sudden the ship came alive, jostling with movement - it was a perfect chaos, a perfect synergy as each sailor took his place. Ship starboard aft. The first ship in weeks. The first time Alvaro would command his crew in combat, and his heart dropped. His heart dropped not because he did not trust in his ability to command, but because he recognised in an instant that the vessel was not a merchant ship. In fact, it was large. Much larger than his own ship.
The Songaskia raised their black flag. Pirates. Feared ones at that. The banner crawled its way up the tip of the mast - these pirates were under the command of Rifat al-Samad. A ruthless and arrogant Captain, more importantly he was known to have little remorse for enemy crews. Merchants, pirates or navy it didn't matter. It dawned on the young Captain that perhaps the merchant ship they had not caught did not make it to it's destination. Perhaps al-Samad has caught the merchants and tortured them for information about the hopeful Santigo ship. This did little to quell the Captain's vigour but he was certain the same thoughts would run through the sailor's minds. Then again, perhaps it was by chance, but nevertheless the enemy was there and the situation demanded a reaction.
The crew awaited orders.
The Captain seemed to freeze. He certainly took his precious time to contemplate what action should be taken. In this brief moment many of the crew had lost faith in the young Captain, that is of course until he hollered back.
"Obtenha-nos sob a lona!"
He took the side of the pilot and more orders followed as the great white canvas of the sails unfurled.
"Vire, portão."
In an instant the ship caught the wind. They were lucky to have it - fighting the Songaskia mages with the wind on their side was hard enough, but without it the battle would have been a lost cause.
Both ships hurtled towards each other at a terrifying pace, both propelled by their own wind mages. Neither stopped for the longest time, the ego of both the respective tyrants made the first steps of the battle seem like a game of chicken.
Another order escaped his lips. "Vire, portside noventa graus." And like that, the much more manoeuvrable ship was at a perfect distance to rake the Songaskia ship bow to stern. The air mage, Chang Tai, knew to halt his cast as the ship turned so abruptly.
In the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm, and for a brief moment there would have been silence again had it not been for the crashing of the waves on the hull of al-Samad's ship and the quick interruption of a yell.
"Portas de arma de estibordo abertas!"
The gun ports opened, the eight cannons on the starboard side rolled forward.
"Disparar!"
A deafening volley of cannon fire was released into the bow of the enemy ship.
"Recarrager!"
Below decks began the frantic process of reloading the guns, the cannons were drawn back, the barrels were brushed, the ball replaced and the black powder checked and refilled. The cannons rolled forward a second time but they would not loose their volley, not yet. Instead, a series of fireballs flew across at the hull of the Pez Globo, scorching large dents into it. One such fireball blew up a cannon instantaneously, killing the two gunners manning it and in turn disabling one more. The ship surgeon was certainly going to have his work cut out for him, but despite the loss of life that was not the worst of the riposte. The mizzenmast was destroyed. The sail set fire and drifted onto the above deck, which was promptly abandoned by both the Captain and the pilot. The mizzenmast was required to re-circle the Songaskia ship so that the Lusitsian's crew could board but now they were sitting at the mercy of the gold-eyed mages.
"Disparar!"
The sound of the second yell in the disorienting smoke was harrowing. A tone mixed with anger, and determination that would put the hairs on your neck on end. Then the second volley of cannon fire was released. Another deafening blast to snap the sailors back into action.
The enemy ship, riddled with holes and a broken rudder plowed itself into the desperate Pez Globo. The enemy were forced to board across the bow and onto the starboard side of the fraught Lusitsian ship and that they did. This was the first time the Captain would see Rifat face to face. The Songaskia towered over the young man in height, he was of a terrifying stature and even more impressive musculature with piercing slitted eyes that would strike fear into the hearts of any sane person and Alvaro felt nothing but reckless disregard as he joined his sailors in combat.
The ego of both respective tyrants turned it's ugly face once again, the pair hacked their way through foe to meet each other on the deck until they finally came face to face. The young fool was met by steel before he could even swing his cutlass. Rifat's maylar had buried itself in his shoulder.
That was the last the Captain saw before he passed out, but he lived to see another day and his crew was victorious. Javier Enriquez resumed command as Firstmate and rallied the vanguard of the ship to launch a strike into the heart of the crowd. Ana de Santigo saved her brother, hacking the feared Rifat al-Samad to his knees. Kjell Vikstrom led various other crewmembers onto the enemy vessel to kill the remainder of the crew and loot the ship. The crew suffered a great loss and limped all the way back to Lusits. Alvaro was scarcely saved by the surgeon, and almost left two young twins without a father.
In the spring of 305 A.C., the streets of Regalia were restless. As far as the eye could see there were bustling colours and the There was talk of war with the Songaskia, the Ch'ien-ji and the Altalar. More than anything else Alvaro craved to be at sea.
In the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm. As far as the eye could see there were gentle winds and equally gentle waves that lapped against the hull of the recently careened Girobaldan fregat, Pez Globo.
The crew was lazy. They'd been at sea for two weeks without seeing a single ship. It had become increasingly clear to the young Captain that the previously escaped merchant vessel made it to it's destination without negative instance. The past Captain had allowed the crew to flee.
In the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm, but there was a growing tenseness amongst the crew - and more importantly, the Captain.
The Captain: A young and ambitious twenty year old. He was built like a bull with an attitude to match. He'd won the respect of his fellow crewmates just weeks before and overthrew the old Captain - he'd been growing soft and ruining the reputation of their ship. The crew knew it was only a matter of time until the Songaskia sent a ship to stop the interruption to their slave routes.
But still, in the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm. The harsh Farah'deen sunlight beat down on the crew relentlessly—
"Navio de estibordo à ré!"
All of a sudden the ship came alive, jostling with movement - it was a perfect chaos, a perfect synergy as each sailor took his place. Ship starboard aft. The first ship in weeks. The first time Alvaro would command his crew in combat, and his heart dropped. His heart dropped not because he did not trust in his ability to command, but because he recognised in an instant that the vessel was not a merchant ship. In fact, it was large. Much larger than his own ship.
The Songaskia raised their black flag. Pirates. Feared ones at that. The banner crawled its way up the tip of the mast - these pirates were under the command of Rifat al-Samad. A ruthless and arrogant Captain, more importantly he was known to have little remorse for enemy crews. Merchants, pirates or navy it didn't matter. It dawned on the young Captain that perhaps the merchant ship they had not caught did not make it to it's destination. Perhaps al-Samad has caught the merchants and tortured them for information about the hopeful Santigo ship. This did little to quell the Captain's vigour but he was certain the same thoughts would run through the sailor's minds. Then again, perhaps it was by chance, but nevertheless the enemy was there and the situation demanded a reaction.
The crew awaited orders.
The Captain seemed to freeze. He certainly took his precious time to contemplate what action should be taken. In this brief moment many of the crew had lost faith in the young Captain, that is of course until he hollered back.
"Obtenha-nos sob a lona!"
He took the side of the pilot and more orders followed as the great white canvas of the sails unfurled.
"Vire, portão."
In an instant the ship caught the wind. They were lucky to have it - fighting the Songaskia mages with the wind on their side was hard enough, but without it the battle would have been a lost cause.
Both ships hurtled towards each other at a terrifying pace, both propelled by their own wind mages. Neither stopped for the longest time, the ego of both the respective tyrants made the first steps of the battle seem like a game of chicken.
Another order escaped his lips. "Vire, portside noventa graus." And like that, the much more manoeuvrable ship was at a perfect distance to rake the Songaskia ship bow to stern. The air mage, Chang Tai, knew to halt his cast as the ship turned so abruptly.
In the summer of 289 A.C., the ocean was calm, and for a brief moment there would have been silence again had it not been for the crashing of the waves on the hull of al-Samad's ship and the quick interruption of a yell.
"Portas de arma de estibordo abertas!"
The gun ports opened, the eight cannons on the starboard side rolled forward.
"Disparar!"
A deafening volley of cannon fire was released into the bow of the enemy ship.
"Recarrager!"
Below decks began the frantic process of reloading the guns, the cannons were drawn back, the barrels were brushed, the ball replaced and the black powder checked and refilled. The cannons rolled forward a second time but they would not loose their volley, not yet. Instead, a series of fireballs flew across at the hull of the Pez Globo, scorching large dents into it. One such fireball blew up a cannon instantaneously, killing the two gunners manning it and in turn disabling one more. The ship surgeon was certainly going to have his work cut out for him, but despite the loss of life that was not the worst of the riposte. The mizzenmast was destroyed. The sail set fire and drifted onto the above deck, which was promptly abandoned by both the Captain and the pilot. The mizzenmast was required to re-circle the Songaskia ship so that the Lusitsian's crew could board but now they were sitting at the mercy of the gold-eyed mages.
"Disparar!"
The sound of the second yell in the disorienting smoke was harrowing. A tone mixed with anger, and determination that would put the hairs on your neck on end. Then the second volley of cannon fire was released. Another deafening blast to snap the sailors back into action.
The enemy ship, riddled with holes and a broken rudder plowed itself into the desperate Pez Globo. The enemy were forced to board across the bow and onto the starboard side of the fraught Lusitsian ship and that they did. This was the first time the Captain would see Rifat face to face. The Songaskia towered over the young man in height, he was of a terrifying stature and even more impressive musculature with piercing slitted eyes that would strike fear into the hearts of any sane person and Alvaro felt nothing but reckless disregard as he joined his sailors in combat.
The ego of both respective tyrants turned it's ugly face once again, the pair hacked their way through foe to meet each other on the deck until they finally came face to face. The young fool was met by steel before he could even swing his cutlass. Rifat's maylar had buried itself in his shoulder.
That was the last the Captain saw before he passed out, but he lived to see another day and his crew was victorious. Javier Enriquez resumed command as Firstmate and rallied the vanguard of the ship to launch a strike into the heart of the crowd. Ana de Santigo saved her brother, hacking the feared Rifat al-Samad to his knees. Kjell Vikstrom led various other crewmembers onto the enemy vessel to kill the remainder of the crew and loot the ship. The crew suffered a great loss and limped all the way back to Lusits. Alvaro was scarcely saved by the surgeon, and almost left two young twins without a father.
In the spring of 305 A.C., the streets of Regalia were restless. As far as the eye could see there were bustling colours and the There was talk of war with the Songaskia, the Ch'ien-ji and the Altalar. More than anything else Alvaro craved to be at sea.
