Of Shanties, Plunder and a Bottle o' Rum
The crisp sea breeze whistled in your ears as you stood at the helm of your ship.
"Cap'n! Sail off the starboard beam."
You hum agreeably at your lookout's words - a young lass of sixteen named Jess, just joined up with your crew back in Freewind Cove. Extending your farseer, the sails of the ship come into view, revealing your quarry on this cloudless day.
You slide shut your extendable farseer with an agreeable
hiss of metal sliding of metal, resting it back in your belt.
"Miss Sorensen! Run out the mizzenmast and the stolen merchant colours. Let the gunners know to prepare powder and shot. Our friends'll be in range soon and I would hate for them to be disappointed by a... lukewarm welcome?" Any warmth in your words to your quartermaster was offset by the vicious grin you knew was stretched across your face.
"Mister Aglen! Plot a course to intercept. I want us breathing on their necks before long."
Watching your crew swiftly follow the barked orders of your two senior officers was a gorgeous sight to behold. Captain of a pirate ship you may be, but poor discipline was equally as ruinous to a ship as any broadside, and the tides take you before any ship of
yours had such infectious rot on it. A crew only performed for a good captain, and though trust might be an odd thing to find on a pirate ship, if the crew trusted the captain and the captain delivered on their belief, they'd give their all.
Yes, the hunt was underway. Time to see if the bait is taken.
~~~~~~~
Two hours of manoeuvring later had your ship poised to take the quarry you'd been doggedly hunting for the past day - a fat merchant galleon of the Orstein Trading Fleet, separated from its escorts in a severe squall. Your ship, the:
[][Ship] Silent Wisp, a 16 gun sloop. Crewed by 50 men and women, you'd always believed in the philosophy of agility over firepower. The small crew size makes seizing prizes a bit trickier, but the shallow draft and sharp turning radius had got you out of a few sticky situations.
[][Ship] Barracuda, a 22 gun corvette. A crew of 90 on a good, reliable ship. Enough long guns to be able to shoot your way out if trouble came calling, but also possessing a surprising nimbleness.
[][Ship] Black Knave, a 28 gun frigate. Carrying a large crew nearing 130, you'd put her broadside up against any other pirate ship in these waters. Balancing the demands of such a large crew with the ability to take sufficient prizes is a difficult tightrope to walk, however.
- has the weather gage, with the wind off your port, by the fine work of your navigator to intercede their attempts at gaining it. They'd been well and glad to come across a fellow lost fleet-mate, but when they got closer and some details started adding up wrong, well. Too little, too late to escape the reach of your shot.
Your farseer shows the rising panic evident on the ship as you ignore their attempts to hail you.
"Miss Sorensen! Signal Gunny Burr to load the long guns and the deck carronades to load grapeshot. Await my orders."
"Aye, cap'n!"
You wait. The upper decks of your ship are a bustle of men and women, bristling for the impending violence. One eternal moment later, a shout.
"Ready!"
Breathe.
.
.
.
Bellow.
"Run up the colours! We'll be dining well tonight, lads and lasses! OPEN FIRE!"
The cheer of your crew is outmatched by the thunder of the guns, though not for lack of spirit. Your first volley rakes the forecastle of the galleon, creating a nice mess but not harming their ability to fight in the short term.
"Their gundeck, you twits! If one of their cannons fire I'll have your guts for breakfast!"
Your second volley screams out, crashing through the belly of the galleon. The splintering hull provides a wonderful accompaniment to the beating of your heart.
"Load chainshot! I want her dead in the water!"
You snarl in rising bloodlust as their sails are shredded.
"Take us alongside! Lash the grappling lines and get ready to board! Fire grapeshot at will!"
As you lead the screaming boarding party, flintlocks shooting at any unfortunate sod still alive after the ruin you've made of the weather deck, you take a moment to reflect.
It's not bad, being you, is it?
But who are you, exactly?
[][Name] Write-in.
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And, finally, a meta vote. How fantastical is this world you sail in?
[] Mundane. Tall tales and sea shanties and legends abound, but this be a world of mundane reality.
[] A Mite Odd. Many a yarn is spun in seedy taverns of legendary sea creatures, cutlasses that let ye control the weather or cursed ships crewed by the damned. Most are false.
[] Decidedly Strange. Enough people have seen mystical creatures and caught or slain them that they be widely known.
[] Pirates in Wonderland. Magic is a regular part of life, from sailors knowing cantrips to help with life to communities of magical creatures to trade with.
Votes open. I intend for this quest to be light on numerical mechanics. A couple more posts planned for the prologue.
My first quest, so advice and discussion encouraged!