Frogquest.

[Weaponizedbaguet]

You awaken in an inky blackness, the darkness around you near freezing. The depth of the void seems near impossible to identify.

Your eyes dart about, rapidly taking in your new environment following your sudden return to consciousness. Asides from a faint dim light towards one direction, the void you drift appears featureless, cold, and empty.

Then the burning feeling starts within your newfound chest. Slowly at first, then growing increasingly demanding. Air. You need air. Your eyes focus back on the dim light and you being to flail towards it in increasing desperation

-The gap between you and salvation is swiftly closed, the firepower you lack is more than compensated by your designers efforts to make you the fastest ship in the Mediterranean. You emerge with a short gasp before taking in your surroundings.
-Your desperate flailing eventually pulls you to the surface. For the first time you're grateful for the treaties limiting your design. The paper thin armor and scattered medium caliber guns prevent the depths from claiming you and eventually your desperate flailing deposits you on the surface, gasping and choking.
-While your heavy armor and large guns seem to pull you downwards, raw horsepower and determination eventually pull you through another trial. Eventually, you breach the surface. Near incapacitated from the struggle, you heave from excerion on the waves as you collect your wits.

While the crisis of drowning is safely averted, the surface offers little opportunity to collect your wits. Torrents of thick rain and large waves immediate greet and pound your new smaller form. Cold chills run up your spine as you resist the bitjng wind and freezing water, your newfound instead legs doing little to stop you from being battered around.

Your look about the night horizon desperately for any signs of relief. As a particularly large wave rolls before you, in the far distance you note a cluster of distant lights resembling a coastal settlement some miles off. Boilers building pressure and props churning in the foaming sea, a faint half smile of hope forms on your face. Tired and battered, you begin to weigh your options.

-Head towards the lights, you can figure things out when you're not sopping wet and completely disoriented.
-Just where the hell are we? We need to figure things out before we move in, even at the risk of further fatigue.
-Try to recall. Where were we last? Maybe that can help us figure out where we are now.
-Write in.

Originally hosted this quest on another site, but the lack of engagement outside the very sparse thread and a falling audience really left me feeling limited and burnt out a lot. I've been feeling the itch, so damn the torpedoes. Let's try again.

 

[veekie]

[X] The gap between you and salvation is swiftly closed, the firepower you lack is more than compensated by your designers efforts to make you the fastest ship in the Mediterranean. You emerge with a short gasp before taking in your surroundings.

[X] Just where the hell are we? We need to figure things out before we move in, even at the risk of further fatigue.

 

[silentorphan]

[x] Your desperate flailing eventually pulls you to the surface. For the first time you're grateful for the treaties limiting your design. The paper thin armor and scattered medium caliber guns prevent the depths from claiming you and eventually your desperate flailing deposits you on the surface, gasping and choking.
[x] Just where the hell are we? We need to figure things out before we move in, even at the risk of further fatigue.

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

[X] The gap between you and salvation is swiftly closed, the firepower you lack is more than compensated by your designers efforts to make you the fastest ship in the Mediterranean. You emerge with a short gasp before taking in your surroundings.

Click to shrink...

[x] Your desperate flailing eventually pulls you to the surface. For the first time you're grateful for the treaties limiting your design. The paper thin armor and scattered medium caliber guns prevent the depths from claiming you and eventually your desperate flailing deposits you on the surface, gasping and choking.

Click to shrink...

Awesome. Thanks for joining the quest. Now if we can get a third to tiebreak the vote we can make progress.

If it helps or wasn't clear we're coin tossing between a destroyer, cruiser or battleship. I'm sorry- probably should have specified there.

 

[dmclain2]

[X] The gap between you and salvation is swiftly closed, the firepower you lack is more than compensated by your designers efforts to make you the fastest ship in the Mediterranean. You emerge with a short gasp before taking in your surroundings.

[X] Just where the hell are we? We need to figure things out before we move in, even at the risk of further fatigue.

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

[X] The gap between you and salvation is swiftly closed, the firepower you lack is more than compensated by your designers efforts to make you the fastest ship in the Mediterranean. You emerge with a short gasp before taking in your surroundings.

[X] Just where the hell are we? We need to figure things out before we move in, even at the risk of further fatigue.

Click to shrink...

You slow your breathing and attempt to collect your wits- a task made surprisingly difficult due to the pounding rain and rolling waves that rock your hull. The feeling of a crashing wave showering your body gives you pause and you look down in confusion. Riding atop the churning darkness you just escaped from is a pair of legs- your legs.

You let out a surprised gasp, which does little to answer your questions and instead prompts you to investigate and prod your newfound body. Eventually your new hands reach the top of your head, where they find a soaked sailor's cap. Seeking answers, you pull the cap off and inspect it. Even with the night as dark as it is, the gold letters on the cap's facing clearly spell out a name- "L'Audacieux".

Your brow furrows in thought when a distant roll of thunder snaps you out of your reverie. "One step at a time" you mutter thoughtfully before turning your gaze back towards the world around you in an attempt to sort out just where the hell you are. You look up to the sky in an apparently vain attempt to spot a star between the thick storm clouds. Shifting your gaze back towards the cluster of distant lights, you unconsciously check your internal compass.

You frown and suppress a shiver as another cold wave rocks you and showers you with cold mist. Taking in the only solid fact that you can muster, you review your current predicament. Ahead of you, towards the south is a large number of lights that resembles a stretching coastline, If this is anywhere near where you started that'd put you somewhere in the southwestern medeterrainian, although it's really anyone's guess.

Your contemplations are soon interrupted when you notice from the corner of your eye a bright light dancing briefly on the surface of the churning waves. Turning back towards it, you can see the unmistakable beam of a searchlight. It pattern shifting back and forth in a searching motion. Looking for something- or someone. Stuck in unfamiliar land and with an unseen party combing the waves, you weigh your options.

[]Last you checked the list of people in the Mediterranean who didn't want you sunk was limited pretty much to yourself, sail towards the coastline in the opposite direction, doing your best to remain unseen
[]Last you checked the list of people in the Mediterranean who didn't want you sunk was limited pretty much to yourself and you can't tell if the enemy is alone. Break contact as fast as you can (That's pretty fast, right?)
[]Last you checked the list of people in the Mediterranean who didn't want you sunk was limited pretty much to yourself, engage and destroy
[]You're alone, wet, and miserable. You've had your fair share of allies in the past and can probably bluff your way past your enemies, try hailing them at a distance
[]other

Combat and mechanics explanation time! Rolls will be based on a D100, however instead of using hard stats, I'll list in the stat block whether l'Audacieux judges her chances at an action to be [routine], [easy], [challenging], [difficult], [hard] or [very hard]. Generally speaking these will correspond to the failure chance, though I'll be measuring how bad the failure is based on how low the dice is (routine will have a failure threshold of 1-30, easy of about 1-40, challenging, about 1-50, difficult of about 1-60, hard of about 1-70, and very hard of 1-80). Generally speaking die rolls will be reserved for combat, I prefer roleplay and decisionmaking to guide the game itself.

 

[silentorphan]

[x]Last you checked the list of people in the Mediterranean who didn't want you sunk was limited pretty much to yourself and you can't tell if the enemy is alone. Break contact as fast as you can (That's pretty fast, right?)

 

[dmclain2]

[x]Last you checked the list of people in the Mediterranean who didn't want you sunk was limited pretty much to yourself and you can't tell if the enemy is alone. Break contact as fast as you can (That's pretty fast, right?)

might as well double down on being fast.

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

[x]Last you checked the list of people in the Mediterranean who didn't want you sunk was limited pretty much to yourself and you can't tell if the enemy is alone. Break contact as fast as you can (That's pretty fast, right?)

Click to shrink...

The implications of the light's search pattern are obvious to you. Someone out there is on the hunt. Given the short list of friends you had in the last days of the war and the proximity to your return that the unseen ship is searching, you don't waste time figuring out their intent. You briefly weigh your options, only briefly wondering if your speed can carry you to safety before you feel a rush of pride over your own capabilities.

Night fighting has never been your speciality, nor has engaging anything above your own tonnage. Given your opponent is unknown and your options are limited you begin to build steam in your boilers, your propellers churning water beneath you. As your speed builds and the distance between you and the searchlight grows it seems evident that your escape has not gone unnoticed. The beam turns towards your general direction and shortly after a series of bright flashes break up the darkness, though they clearly don't have a good solution and the shells are lost in the storm, missing hilariously wide. From the way the guns echo in the distance, it seems your foe hadn't expected you to make a hasty escape and are firing mostly randomly in your general direction.

With one last glance towards the space in the night that conceals you pursuer, you press on in your escape. While the hunter may still be out there, with your speed, a lack of sight, and the raging waves, anything beyond harassing fire is unlikely.

You instead turn away. cautiously changing your heading towards the distant lights you had spotted earlier.

You spend what seems to be hours, wet and tired, fighting the storm as the distant lights grow ever closer. Gradually you efforts pay off and the lights seem to form the regular shapes of urban sprawl among the hilly coast, though most of the lighting appears to come from the areas atop the hill rather than among the shore. As you cautiously get ever closer to the city the reason becomes ominously apparent. All along the coastline the world is quiet. the white multistory buildings boarded up and vacant. Vacant boats lie tied up along docks. Despite being among the roaring break of waves and the downpour the situation is oddly and uncomfortably quiet.

You take a glance along the coastline, it seems like the owners have moved further inland. Though the exact reason why is not apparent.

[] You can dock right? You have feet- see if there's anyone home
[] This is the first place they'd look, press on to the town's outskirts

 

[veekie]

[x] You can dock right? You have feet- see if there's anyone home

 

[silentorphan]

[x] You can dock right? You have feet- see if there's anyone home

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

[x] You can dock right? You have feet- see if there's anyone home

Click to shrink...

[x] You can dock right? You have feet- see if there's anyone home

Click to shrink...

You glance nervously along the edge of the city as you near, slowing your speed to gain a better look at the shoreline. Though no sign of the inhabitants are immediately visible you can see the faint flow of distant lights at the top of the hill hidden behind layers of abandoned buildings. The streets along the coastline soon reveal evidence of conflict. Large craters and rubble piles form at the front of many of the buildings, the strange sleek automobiles piled up on the paved roads are clearly abandoned, many of them bearing evidence of fire damage.

Cautiously, you track your batteries along the coastline, doing your best to stay alert even as you can feel your body growing heavier beneath your soaked wool coat. You slow your pace at the edge of the shoreline before glancing down at your newfound legs with uncertainty. Finally- unsteady from fatigue and uncertainty regarding your newfound body, you take a bow legged step onto the coastal sands, before making an awkward walk up the rocky beach towards the nearest building.

It looks to you to be an old restaurant, though you can only guess at that, given the sign advertising it looks to have been raked with machine gun fire and regardless, you don't understand Arabic. Finding yourself at the entrance, you take a nervous breath before pushing the framed glass door open and immediately flinch when it falls inwards, the glass inside shattering loudly.

You step back suddenly and raise your cannons, letting out a quiet curse over your clumsiness. Your curse grows louder and your guns raise upwards as angry shouts begin to form in the shop, black shadows moving from the building's depths towards you. You begin to desperately attempt to track the shapes with your guns, but they've already pushed past you into the open coastal air by the time you have anything approaching an accurate firing solution, by then you let yourself breathe again.

Birds.

You let out a short nervous laugh and will your pounding chest to slow down. Summoning your courage once more, you turn your attention towards the building. Stepping further into the building you're soon greeted with a putrid and rotten odor. Doing your best to ignore the smell, you survey the what you now confirm to be a small eatery.

Once inside the restaurant, it's pretty clear that the building has been abandoned for some time, overthrown tables and scattered rubble seem to indicate a sudden and violent event, but the wilted and dried plants sitting in several large pots seem to indicate that you're arriving well after its old owners left.

You spend a short while mulling over what to do next before deciding to continue, pushing past the counter and into the back of the shop. The first entrance you see is clearly the source of the smell, even before you can identify it as the kitchen. Inside- unidentifiable mushy piles of what was probably once food lay scattered around the room along with all sorts of bewildering cooking implements and accessories. You only pause briefly here, frankly the odor is near unbearable and you make your way into the last room of interest- a small office with a dust covered couch, several cabinets, and a desk.

You ponder your options again: the lights up the hill promise civilization, but the list of nations in the Mediterranean who haven't shot at you doesn't even include your homeland. The likelihood of it being somewhere welcoming is pretty much zero and you can't outrun much on land.

(L'Audacieux is feeling tired and will suffer minor action penalties)

[] Press on immediately down the coast, whatever happened here you want no part of it and
[]Gather supplies and press on immediately, whatever happened here you want no part of it
[] Rest up and resupply before pressing on, frankly you need some time to think over and see what you can remember.
[] Press inland, it may be worth the risk.

 

[silentorphan]

[x] Rest up and resupply before pressing on, frankly you need some time to think over and see what you can remember.

 

[veekie]

[x] Rest up and resupply before pressing on, frankly you need some time to think over and see what you can remember.

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

[x] Rest up and resupply before pressing on, frankly you need some time to think over and see what you can remember.

Click to shrink...

[x] Rest up and resupply before pressing on, frankly you need some time to think over and see what you can remember.

Click to shrink...

You ponder your options briefly before you catch yourself stifling a yawn and collapse onto the couch with a dull "thud" that drives up a cloud of dust. You feel your shoulders lighten- despite the cold water that still clings to your coat as you allow yourself to relax slightly.

Your are destroyer l'Audacieux of the Marine National you recall confidently.

With that, recollections of quiet show of force missions with your sisters over the years drift back into your consciousness. You recall the years of idle chatter and the eager hope for glory and honor against the Italian escorts you were designed to counter. The feeling of immense pride as Le Terrible set a record that proved your class as the definitive fastest. The steady beating of war drums in the years leading up to conflict

All of it forgotten in the War.

You stiffen and then shiver involuntarily with sudden terrible recollection. Painful memories threaten to boil over. Your former allies turning their guns against you and your countrymen in one great and terrible acr. The absolute terror and pain of British guns cutting through your hull, it wasn't any easier when their bombs find you a second time. A mixture of a stifled cry and a bitter curse chokes itself in your throat as dark anger burns within you.

A deep boom of thunder sounds, echoing the sound of hostile guns and snapping you back into reality. You glance outside and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, allowing yourself to focus again on your present predicament. You cannot fight the enemy on willpower alone- you need to rest and refit. Sighing and doing your best to shake away the painful memories you allow yourself to fall into the couch in a tangled and soaked pile, fatigue overcoming you almost as soon as you land.

-l'audacieux is now rested!

By the time you awake from your slumber, light is already pouring from the small room's doorway. You rise with a faint groan, your skin and coat sticking to the dirty couch slightly from the partly dried saltwater that clings to your body. The sailor's cap that so miraculously held on yesterday is now barely hanging lopsided over your salt drenched auburn hair. Now mostly rested, you're greeted with a new discomfort courtesy of your new body. Hunger.

You take the opportunity to reexamine the kitchen. Pulling your coat over your nose in a half vain attempt to stave off the smell of rotting food you so fondly discovered yesterday, you set off. Your search begins poorly- half opened cabinets and drawers hanging slack indicate some sort of pillaging has taken place. The large forsaken piles of rot makes you grimace to yourself before a lucky sight catches your eye from an open cabinet. Five unlabeled aluminium cans are stacked haphazardly in the back corner, picking one of them out you briefly wonder how to open it before spotting a knife laying on the countertop below, grabbing it and jabbing the can's brim fiercely rewards you with the salty smell of canned fish. You eagerly worm the knife back and forth until you're able to extract the contents from within. The taste of the meat inside can hardly be described as "good" (not that you have a point of reference.) but it momentarily staves off the hunger.

-You got 4 canned food and are now fed

Now fed and with extra food to spare, you take the opportunity to rally outside, treading along the now well lit cityscape towards the rocky hillsides that form the coastline. Now that you're able identify the sea and land around you, avoiding enemy ships seems a less daunting task and your speed should proove more of a noon on flat and open water. Though you still have some unease when you consider the threat of enemy air patrols or strikes.

Still, you manage to find your bearings. Gazing at the rising mid morning sun. You elect to double back the direction you came yesterday, presumably the east based on the angle of the sun.

Despite doubling back down the same coastline, the daylight offers a new perspective. As you progress past the more -formerly- densely populated areas, the bright buildings with colorful roofs littering the sides of the coastline bring an odd familiarity to the old ports in French North Africa. Though the coastal roads, exotic vacant automobiles and strange signs far seem different than anything you recall seeing. Still, you continue onwards, trying to place you exact location in relation to the seas you know.

Before you can find a definitive landmark a faint clicking sound in the distance catches your attention. The noise is followed by a pattern of thunderous blasts audible but distant. The sound of cannons trading fire. Further along the coastline, near where the urban sprawl you found last night was, you can barely make out the distant clouds of ships smokestacks and the puff of discharging guns. Though it's too far to make out an exact size or number even with your modernized rangefinder. You swivel your cannons to watch the melee.

What do you do
[]flank speed and damn the consequences. There's bound to be someone there that's not wanting to kill you
[]wait until they stop fighting and see if you can't piece together what happened
[]turn tail, this isn't your fight
[]move slowly and try and figure things out without being seen.

 

[silentorphan]

[x]wait until they stop fighting and see if you can't piece together what happened

 

[veekie]

[x]move slowly and try and figure things out without being seen.

 

[anon1593]

[x]move slowly and try and figure things out without being seen.

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

[x]move slowly and try and figure things out without being seen.

Click to shrink...

[x]move slowly and try and figure things out without being seen.

Click to shrink...

You pause, weighing your options. While you were never made to seek out conflict on your own and the idea of being caught in a firefight unsupported is frankly terrifying, if there are two parties out there trading blows it seems likely that at least one of them won't try to sink you. Besides, the distant guns don't sound that much larger than your own.

You manage to reach a decision between the distant volleys. Finally with your mind made up, you stoke your boilers and steel your nerves before pushing out towards the conflict. Still though- it pays to be careful, being sunk twice taught you that much. You make your approach close to the shoreline, hoping to break up your silhouette along the rocks and buildings. Thankfully it seems that the combat is pretty heated and no one seems to pick you out as you make your way into observation range. Electing to take advantage of that you slow your speed and try to make out the action.

It's pretty apparent as soon as you can make sense of the combat that the firefight is currently just a few direct hits south of a one sided slaughter. One girl, human in appearance, is running a fighting retreat. Already clearly wounded by the way her left arm lays slack against her side, she continues offering light caliber weapons in random uncoordinated harassment against her foe. Though seems more concerned with evading the incoming fire.

Her pursuers for their part are entirely different in appearance and their sight seems to leave a deep pit of unease in your stomach. Leading the pack's charge is a pair of humanoid females, twisted with malformed biomechanical weapons lead a pack of small demonic looking creatures in pursuit Your combat experience is limited but it seems obvious that the pair is toying with her, firing haphazardly along her path to lead her in one direction or another. The effort goes on for a long while as you grow nearer until the pursuers seem to grow bored. Their path begins to grow more deliberate and a round manages to make contact with the girl, eliciting a pained yelp as she rolls with the impact.

You nervously weigh your options again. At this distance and with your speed, escape is still a trivial matter. Ahead of you though the fight seems to be going south. Now slowed significantly the lone girl only a single light cannon in rebuttal to the concentrated pounding the second group offers. Though she seems close to sinking, you note that a tattered Italian ensign still flies defiantly from the equipment on her back.

[]engage the monsters at range to distract them [difficult]
[]flank speed and make a torpedo run [easy, though pretty risky]
[]last you checked Italy wasn't exactly on your list of friends, engage the damaged girl [routine]
[]this isn't your fight, break contact
[]attempt to make contact

Also, you speak one non French language, for the record all three of these are very likely to appear.
[]You managed to pick up a good bit of English in the early days of the war
[]You managed to pick up a good deal of German after your capture
[]You learned some Italian before the war

 

[silentorphan]

[]flank speed and make a torpedo run [easy, though pretty risky]

Click to shrink...

A torpedo run on whom, exactly? Both sides? One side?

[x]You managed to pick up a good deal of German after your capture

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

A torpedo run on whom, exactly? Both sides? One side?

[x]You managed to pick up a good deal of German after your capture

Click to shrink...

Sorry, badly phrased, the intent was on the monsters but you can choose either or both if you'd like.

 

[veekie]

[X]flank speed and make a torpedo run [easy, though pretty risky]
[X]You managed to pick up a good bit of English in the early days of the war

 

[dmclain2]

[x]flank speed and make a torpedo run [easy, though pretty risky]

let's see if we can offer some

[x]You managed to pick up a good deal of German after your capture

Germans as good a choice as any

 

[Weaponizedbaguet]

[X]flank speed and make a torpedo run [easy, though pretty risky]
[X]You managed to pick up a good bit of English in the early days of the war

Click to shrink...

[x]flank speed and make a torpedo run [easy, though pretty risky]

let's see if we can offer some

[x]You managed to pick up a good deal of German after your capture

Germans as good a choice as any

Click to shrink...

The Italians may be pretty high up on your shit list, but when forced to choose between them and a squadron of what look to be literal demons the choice seems to be obvious. Besides these may not be the best odds you could hope for, but it's probably the closest thing you've ever had to an even fight arrayed in front of you and surprise is on your side.

You push your engines into flank speed, your thigh mounted torpedo tubes swivel into a firing position as you steadily accelerate. Despite the circumstances a small part of you can help but feel excited as your props continue to push forwards and you begin to feel the rush of the wind through your hair. You're closing on forty knots before you're finally seen. The beleaguered girl spots you first, noting your appearance with an expression of surprise and hopeful desperation. The two attackers notice shortly after, one of them following her gaze to your position before an angry snarl takes hold of their face and they bark a short alert to the other.

You take the first shots, leveling your weapons against the fight and squeezing off a barrage of small caliber shells. They miss horribly which is hardly surprising given you're shooting from the proverbial hip at forty two knots. The rounds do however succeed in drawing the attention of at least one of your foes, the larger of the two begins to branch out into a flanking maneuver, drawing the pack of the creatures in a line behind, their guns barking out disconcertingly accurate fire.

The second appears to ignore you. Now focusing her attention squarely on the girl and firing with more deliberate intent to hit. Deciding that if the Italian is sunk, you'll have nothing to show for your efforts, you ignore the flankers and press the attack. Steadily closing the distance through the hail of fire, you make one last mental adjustment before letting out a trio of torpedoes, the deadly ordnance launching with a hiss of compressed air off towards their target.

Your target seems to finally deem you worthy of attention, turning to glare at your torpedoes with surprise and alarm before shifting their rudder wide to evade. You grimace when her maneuver succeeds, your torpedoes wake sliding past her.

Undeterred by the failures of your opening salvo and the incoming fire, you refuse to slow, electing to close to nearly knife fighting distance before letting off a second trio. Your opponent's panic is clearly visible as the second barrage closes the short distance and geysers of water tainted with dark ichor rise up from her feet.

You scarcely have time to process your success when a stinging pain shoots out from your arm as one of your turrets takes a direct hit, belching fire and smoke as you're painfully reminded you that the rest of your foes are still out there. You do your best to press on, turning to address the second half of your foe's squadron.

It looks like their leader at least was taken off guard and they are currently weighing their odds between fighting and fleeing. The more bestial escorts seem far less uncertain, charging forwards with fusillades of cannon fire.

You hastily return fire against the escorts- a lucky hit knocks one out but the pack seems undeterred and you let out a pained yelp.when a second round strikes your leg, cutting your speed and causing you to stumble briefly in the waves.

Desperately, you shift your target to the bulk of the charging escorts and let loose your last trio of torpedoes, hoping at least to break their charge. Desperate hope builds within you as the torpedoes close towards their target until they finally make contact- it looks like your enemies are either more reckless than you thought or you're not as unlucky as your past experiences might have you believe, two of the monsters are shredded into chunks of foul and oily gristle .

It looks like the squadron leader has finally made up their mind, offering you a look that seems to offer equal parts of disbelief and hatred before turning off, leaving the last pair of escorts to fall before your guns to buy time to escape. By the time they finally fall beneath your admittedly scattered fire their leader is too far to trade accurate fire with you and you allow yourself to slump to the waves with a tired groan and you allow yourself a long moment to gather your breath and grit past the pain of your injuries.

"M-merci" a voice behind you croaks out un horrendously accented French. You turn back in surprise and are greeted by the battered form of the girl you just saved. Immediately it's apparent just how outclassed she was in the fight. Her sole armament besides the damaged and the numerous empty mine racks across her legs seem to be a pair of destroyer sized decks guns and a smaller secondary cannon. She's smaller than you expected, her clothes, previously a dull blue sailor outfit and skirt tattered and stained with the crimson evidence of her fight.

She gestures to herself with her one functioning arm and does her best simple, which at present time comes across as closer to a grimace. "Lepanto" she quietly introduces.

You nod tiredly to acknowledge her before gesturing to yourself. "L'Audacieux"

She seems to brighten at this and shows a slightly pained but genuine smile, before making a query to you in Italian in a question tone. Receiving a blank look on your own end she tries again, this time in a language unfamiliar and asiatic in sound. Receiving the same look, she looks down, thoughtful at how to resolve the language barrier.

You take things up on your own, doing your best to find commonality despite the language barrier. "We need to get you safe." She shakes her head to demonstrate a lack of understanding. "Home?" you try. "Port?"

She brightens again at the mention of 'port'. "Porta?" she asks questioningly.

"Yes. Si." you answer.

She gestures off to the east and mutters something excitedly in Italian. She turns and offers a motion to follow before stumbling slightly in pain, the damage inflicted on her earlier setting in as adrenaline wears off.

It's clear even from your layman's perspective that she's in no shape for a journey of uncertain distance, however concern over whether or not her attackers have friends nearby means staying here is not an option. You ponder the choices available on how to move her before wrapping your arm around her shoulder to offer support, eliciting a surprise squeak of pain despite the care you use to maneuver her battered body. Though the difference in height and your own wound makes the position awkward the options available to you are limited.

[]follow the Italian
[]you are both too wounded to continue, head inland and address your injuries there
[]gesticulate wildly in an effort to ask a question (write in)
[]other

(L'Audacieux is now out of torpedoes and has taken light damage. Damage will be measured by factors of "minor", "light", "moderate", "severe", and "critical".)

 

[silentorphan]

[x]you are both too wounded to continue, head inland and address your injuries there