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 Nautical Mayhem (LAW vs SO) 
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Post Nautical Mayhem (LAW vs SO)
((OOC STATS BEFORE HIT:
SANCTUM OFFICIUM 11 6,106,883 555,171
FREEMANS LAW 16 6,450,095 403,130 ))

Time had passed since the ruffians of Freeman's Law had been attacked by the dark denizens of Sanctum Officium. The fleets of Law's ships had been scattered, burned, even sunken in the unexpected war that was seemingly over as soon as it had begun. For weeks, the seas had washed up scattered remnants of the carnage: wood, crates, bodies all lined the shores of the lands of the Freemann's influence.

Gemini called her Master members to her cabin, intent on discussing the outlook of the world in which they dwelt. The short war had been hard, but the people of Freeman's Law were accustomed to hardship. Their lives were lived running from the noose, slipping past the noble's law any time they stuck their necks out too far. This was nothing new to them.

Well boys... Sable cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at Gemini's choice of words So sorry She replied with a smirk Men? Sable nodded approvingly and she continued I know ye've all been gettin a bit antsy... So I figured we'd get the jump on someone this time... a change of pace, I know.

She crossed to a cherry wood cabinet near her bed and opened it, revealing a wine rack filled with bottles and charts. She ran her fingers along the rows and pulled out a bottle of red wine, a crisp looking chart wrapped around it. Turning back to the assembled men, she smirked as she pulled the chart free.

It's not going to be easy, but I'm sure you'll find amusement in it at the very least.

She rolled the chart out, pulling a dagger from her side to secure each corner. Then men leaned forward and grinned as their eyes fell over the parchment. Gemini pulled the cork from the bottle and took a long pull of the brew. She swallowed and grinned maliciously as she softly urged

The people of Sanctum Officium have some things that belong to us... let's go get them back

_________________
[center]
Gemini Blue
Freeman's Law
Speaker of Law

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.[/center]


Tue Mar 23, 2004 8:58 pm
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Stablehand
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The Dove was a beautiful ship. When it had pulled into dock, she'd just stood in awe of it for several minutes while members of the crew poured out for their shore leave, then after she'd watched the captain leaving, she'd slipped on board. She'd timed it perfectly, making sure that a tiny fire was set one dock over. A fire that eventually grew large enough to grab the attention of all on the docks, letting her board unnoticed.

Biting her lip, she tried to recall what little she knew of sailing. It had been several years since she'd been aboard a ship. At that time she'd associated herself briefly with a group that termed themselves Rogue. She grinned as that small amount of knowledge learned came back to her and she carefully drifted away from the docks. She only knocked a few cabin boys off the pier and into the water when they tried to anchor the ship by holding onto the ropes mooring it.

She'd gotten a good wind- for a short time. She was already 3/4 of the way out of the harbor when the wind died, leaving her fairly stranded. How did one sail a ship when there wasn't any wind? Frowning, she wandered down into the belly of the vessel. Long benches where oarsmen should have been sat, were empty in front of her.

Hmm..appears I should have kept a few of them on board. How irritating.

Sighing, she made her way back up toward the deck then went to the Captains quarters. She rummaged through the desk and then went to the chest at the foot of his bunk. When she opened it gold, weapons, and a shiny bottle greeted her gaze. Grinning she took out the daggers, slipping them into the waistband of her breeches. Then, because she was thirsty, she took the bottle and popped its cork- taking a long swallow from the bottle.

Choking out a surprised cough at the burn as the liquid went down her throat, her eyes watered. She didn't know what this stuff was, but if it burned going down- it certainly seemed to be something that Darden would approve of. She took another tentative sip, then giggling, took her knewly heisted weaponry and beverage upstairs onto the deck with her so she could keep an eye on shore.

It wasn't until things started getting blurry that she began to wonder if maybe she hadn't miscalculated, thinking she wouldn only drink a little. Peering at the bottle, she shook it slightly and then put her eye to the mouth and looked down into the inky black where the last of the rum remained.

Ooopsh...I din 'tink I drung thad mush!

She blinked again, then giggled at her own words. Darden help her, she hoped no one else ever found out about this. It would have been bad enough for her to get drunk on purpose. To get drunk by accident....

Uhoh...I tink deyr cumming fer me!

She could see something making its way toward The Dove. She couldn't tell what it was though. For all she knew it was one of those sea monsters one heard about from sailors. For some reason the thought amused her. As she slid to the deck, she couldn't stop the insane giggles that escaped- right before she passed out.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Tue Mar 23, 2004 10:29 pm
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It was quite interesting. In but three years, Gatis been a member of all three faiths. He had believed in the purification of the wicked from the lands, and yet, he found himself on the side of those whom he had slain before. Curious it was, now that he was now charging into the lands he had once shared a faith with. Of course ultimately it mattered little, ultimately, they died the same way: kicking, screaming, begging their deity for life as their life slowly burned away.

Today, the Dardens burned before his flaming Witchammer, and they would do so the next day. They would continue burning until they died, for that was the way of things. Enemies would burn ever so slowly, and Gatis would move on. No heresy would remain unpurified.

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Purification is at hand.
Freeman's Law
DAWN


Tue Mar 23, 2004 10:31 pm
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Gizmo was at sea. His men were contently playing swashbuckling games on the deck. Suddenly, he heard cannons! "EEEEEEE! HIDE!" He scurried to the door to the hull when his lackey grabbed him. "Um, master, shouldn't we fight?"

Gizmo stared at him blankly. "Fine, fine... Why are they attacking us?"

"Well, majesty, we bear the LAW emblem on our sails, for we are going to enlist in their army once we reach the city. I guess they figure we're already a part of that army."

Gizmo blinked slowly. "Where do I keep my armies?"

"Um... We're your army at the moment, sir..."

"WRONG! I keep my armies in my sleevies!" He burst into a fit of giggles and rolled around on the floor in his glass container. Suddenly, he bolted upright and pointed at the incoming fleet. "Forget the cannons, mages, sweep them away in a wave of lightning lances!"


Tue Mar 23, 2004 10:47 pm
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The slow, steady swells of the becalmed ocean had fast turned from a calming distraction from the frustrations of isolation to a cause of yet more frustration still.

"Mr Flambard, we'll have the tops'ls out if you please."

Captain Hammond paused to deliver the clipped order and then resumed his slow, steady pace across the deck from one side to the next. His salt-stained boots, polished to a shine whilst in harbour but long since pocked with the marks of travel asea, took with them a loud clacking noise as they met the dry timbers of the ship's deck. Belowdecks, sailors in equal proportions rolled their eyes or grinned to themselves at the reassuring quirks of their Captain - becalmed, demasted, or merely bored, the ship's commander had all but worn a groove in the deck with his almost unconscious pacing.

"By the Goddess, if there's one breath of breeze in the air we'll catch it. MISTER FLAMBARD! WHERE ARE THOSE TOPSAILS?"

The midshipman blanched, and bellowed out the orders shakily to his men as the captain's pacing continued uninterrupted. The mail barge which had brought them news of the raids on the caravans of the recently victorious Sanctum stood not three hundred yards from their stern, caught in the same vacuum of still air as had left the Indefatigable stranded.

The Freemen were at war, and the Indy had naught a puff of wind to carry her into the fight. The ship wallowed in the swell, as the Captain's barked orders bade the men in the riggings release yet more canvas to lay idly against the sun-bleached masts.

_________________
Freeman's Law
Ashore these men are not as other men;
They walk as strangers through the crowded street,
Or, brooding by their fires, they hear again
The noise astern, where gurgling waters meet.


Wed Mar 24, 2004 6:14 pm
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Stablehand
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(OOC 'Lo SO. Nice to see you again ~Tayrin)

A fog filled the harbor, one born of unnatural means. The fog was so thick, a man could walk atop it. The harbor guards were uneasy, lifting their lanturns, trying to peirce the gauzy veil that had fallen over their ranks.

Just as one lifted his lanturn, a crossbow bolt sped through the night, peircing his throat with a sick crunching sound. The guard, wearing the colors of Darden fell to the ground beside his commrades. Lifting their blades, they stood back to back, ready to fight. Sheilds locked together, eyes scanning the fog, looking for any kind of movement.

They expected a crossbowman. What they got was a huge black ship gliding into the harbor.

Reaching out, one sounded the alarm, even has bolders and ballista bolts launched into their city.

And just then, the fog lifted.

And they saw the flames. All their ships were already burning, and they had heard nothing. One paled in terror and whispered the word "Witchcraft"

Indeed it is, my friend

The six guards spun to face their foe, a single man, dropping his crossbow to the ground, and drawing twin swords. One stright like a shark's tooth, the other wavy like the sea. He launched himself into them, with an inhuman grace, his swords rending and tearing. And even as he stepped from the carnage his cheek dripped blood to the ground.

His crew had claimed a city this night.[/i]

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LAWless, and lovin' it.


Thu Mar 25, 2004 10:18 am
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I sigh as I sit down to write my tale

We had set out on the open sea. It was a very aggressive front that we had put up. My little crew had found great success. Our hold on the ports around these lands had grown immensely. I knew that I had spread my crew out pretty thin but it seemed like SO wouldn't be able to keep us out no matter how short-handed my crew had become.

That all came to an end the following night. Without warning they attacked. They moved quickly and efficiently. Casting my men aside as they moved from port to port.

By the time the reports had reached me it was too late. There was no chance for me to set sail and regain what was lost. I pulled my ships in from their current assignments, determined to hold what was left of my sea power.

I know there is something left in my men. I will make our presence known....

Quietly I lower my pen and dry the ink off of the feather tip and close my book. Calling in my closest commanders, I have decided it is time to make our move.

_________________
In nature's infinite book of secrecy
A little I can read.


Thu Mar 25, 2004 2:07 pm
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The days long and dark lightning shuttering through the skies. Pirates had been ruining and pillaging everything they could get their hands on.....Even animals, such sick people pirates are.

Lord, all the animals, the birds, the cows, the dogs. Their all gone. And their have been reports of........... The servant whispered the end of the sentence.

Laughing Murdock held his stomach as he chuckled at what he had just heard. Not beleiving what he had heard he looked at the servant and stood back up.

Did I hear you right? They must be punished for the sickening things they have been doing to the animals that make us laugh.

Murdock shook his head in disbelief as the servant nodded and quickly ran off behind the house behind him and you could hear some stomach churning sounds coming from there.

Well that isn't good. I guess the Sanctum will do what we always do best. Retaliate and do it hard and fast to smash the pitiful guilds that hit us.

Murdock grinned wickedly as he saw the thousands and thousands of not only his but an immense ally of his men both at the same pummelling everything that stood in the way taking thousands and thousands of acres of their land.

The massacre of the pirates had been commenced and by the looks of it the Sanctum were now showing every guild in the lands of Maxim that the Sanctum will prevail and go on to be the strongest and again the most predominant guild in Maxim.

The Freemans Law was falling, their ships sinking to the depths of the sea's where they belong with all their other pirate ancestors that had been slaughtered in the Sanctum Officium lands years and years ago. Their rightful place was to be buried by the water, which in itself gave them their way of life. Why not drown them in their own life, make them suffer.

The days and nights that are yet to come the men stood ready, sweat dripping form them, blood running thick along the paths and in the battle grounds. But victory was in the eyes of the Sanctum and fear was all that was seen by the Freemen.

_________________
Acolyte of Pain
Sanctum Officum/Black Dogs
The Golden Hordes Dragon Knight Beserker


Thu Mar 25, 2004 7:26 pm
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He'd learned much in the last few weeks. Not nearly as much as he'd like, but it was enough to start with. This group calling themselves the Freemen were an interesting lot, certainly. It'd been years since he'd reached his own tollerance for disgust at the practices of the rich and powerful, and struck out on his own for places few travel. More recently, it seemed the number of people that have come to similar conclusions about the nobility have reached a sort of critical mass; they had enough influence to bring others into their ranks, and make a fair showing in a fight.

His efforts of the last few days brought him to this place. It never ceased to amaze him how a few hours in the right tavern, a few coins in the right hand, a little eaves dropping in the right place, and even a bit of luck could get you a considerable ammount of information. The rumors of the day, if you knew where to look for them, spoke of the Freemen moving for retaliation against the tyrants that ordered the massacre of a considerable portion of their fleet. Some old friends, and even the master that had trained him in his youth, spoke on occaision of days when acts such as those would be unthinkable. It was one thing to liberate or destroy the contents of a trade caravan (or even buy off the caravan when circumstances allowed), but one simply didn't slaughter merchants, or destroy their conveyance. Of course, not all of the Freemen were merchants, but it seemed quite a few of them had been before joining, and may be continuing that trade in support of their new allies.

Times have changed a lot since those days. Greed and lust for power, or fear of the loss of power led to more and more dispicable acts. There has even been news of entire villiages being razed to the ground, the enhabitants slaughtered completely, at the order of the lords they pledged fealty to, over the mere rumor of a traitor. Things would get worse before they'd improve.

So now he stood, gazing out a window at the bustle of people moving about their business in the city below. Assuming the rumors of the Freemen's comming retalliation were true, or perhaps they were already in progress, they'd need to move inland to do any real damage to their foe. That would mean their illustrious leader (he'd heard the name "Gemini Blue", but couldn't learn much more without appearing overly suspicious) would need to marshal the ground forces available to her. Most probably, that meant a meeting between her and the leaders of those forces, and that was likely to happen here. Now he had simply to wait. If the rumors he'd heard were wrong, or his gueses based on those rumors mistaken, he would probably know by the end of the day.


Thu Mar 25, 2004 7:51 pm
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They didn't even make it home, the words were hissed faintly and with the first touches of anger. They were the only words she had spoken since receiving the news from the half-dead messenger who had been sent back to the red desert. The news the tribesman had brought had caused the sorceress's blood to run cold, that the tribes had been attacked while still making their way back from the battles at the walls of Tiavain. She had spoken in response to the messenger, just gestured him away so that he could speak with the representatives of the four tribes. The Sidhe woman had just gathered up her cloak and set off, walking through lands that were both friend and enemy, not allowing the matters of borders to stop her journey to the coast.

The red sands of Culaearien would soon be covered by a thick cloud of smoke as funeral pyres were lit in remembrance of those who had fallen. The bodies themselves would be burn where they had fallen, carried home by those few who lived to be bearers of the dead. That would be a sad sight to behold once it made its way to the reaches of the desert. In other lands it would have been met with droves of people begging to know why it had happened, why their deity had not protected them. But that was not the way of the tribes.

Not a single tear would fall to wet the dry lands of the red desert, not a tear would be shed, not a moan of mourning would be heard. That was the way of the desert tribes, they did not mourn the dead, they did not weep for those who had passed on. Why mourn? Why weep? The dead had fallen in combat with those who denied Darden, they had died as all those who lived in Culaearien wished to. According to the beliefs of the tribes, the dead now waited to give an account of their lives and be judged by the Lord. If He found them worthy then they would forever bask in the glory of His presence. If they had sinned and gone against His wishes, if they had feared death, if they had shown mercy...well then they would share the same fate as those who had worshiped the false Ones in life.

Of course just because the tribes believed that the dead were with Darden now that did not mean that the matter of revenge was a moot one. There would be revenge, terrible, bloody and vicious, it was after all a subject that the sorceress knew more than a little about. The tribes would seek out the heathens to teach them the 'errors' of their ways, doing it all in the name of their Lord. Lyssia though...Lyssia was another matter entirely...

In her mind's eye she could see the dead, imagining them, she knew that they would have fought bravely and in silence. She could imagine them fighting not for their lives but for their God, hacking away with their curved swords and seeking to take the heathens into death with them. They would have died believing, trusting, never doubting, they would have died using their last breath to whisper a single word, to speak the name of Darden. She could imagine the young warrior and the old alike, laying broken and dead in foreign lands, bleeding from numerous wounds, but accepting the pain as if it were a blessing given to them by Darden Himself. Yes they would have died well and in accordance to their customs, to the beliefs that their tribes held dear.

The desert was a harsh place and had bred a harsh people, ones not afraid of death nor life. They had lived and died as they chose, knowing that others would come after them, that their beliefs would live on, that their deaths would be praised. Death would have claimed them as sent their souls onwards to face the judgment that they had prepared themselves for all their lives. And their souls would have been at peace, knowing that others would follow in their footsteps, others would ensure that vengeance was carried out upon their killers.

They didn't even make it home, she said again, she would be the instrument of their revenge. Not because she believed in Darden, though she did, she knew that the Gods existed. Not because she worshiped Darden, no she served His followers due to a debt that none save for herself understood or knew of. No she would see to it that revenge was taken in their names because they couldn't do it themselves. Their lives had been taken from them before they had had the chance so she would act in their stead. The sorceress craved revenge against a goodly number of people and she knew that if she were to die then she would wish for another to finish what she had started.

She walked along the cliff-top, a lone female figure wrapped up in a simple cloak to keep out the cold. Nothing that would especially attract attention to her, nothing that would have marked her as a woman out for revenge for the dead. Only another Sidhe would have felt her presence and realised that she was more than just a peasant woman. The Sidhe were few and far between, the chances that the pirates had one among them were rather slim. Even if they did...well Lyssia knew most of the Sidhe in the isle and they knew her. What she was capable of...what she might do...the stories that had built up around her mostly hidden past.

From the cliff-top she looked down at the ships that were allied to the banner of Freeman's Law, her face and emotionless mask that hid the writhing hatred that twisted within her stomach. Isonia, she spat, that fact alone enough to earn the new alliance the enmity of the sorceress even if their paths had not crossed before that moment. Even if they had not touched the tribesmen, even if battle had not been started between them, even if they had never touched upon land before, still the fact that they had thrown their lot in with the Battlemaiden was enough to set the Sidhe woman's heart against them.

Lyssia let the cloak fall from her shoulder, shivering slightly as the cold wind embraced her thinly robed body. She had grown used to the heat of the desert where the winds were warm and only the chill of night was enough to make a person shiver if they weren't prepared for it. There had been a time long ago when she had lived by the sea's edge, when the ocean breeze would have seemed like something familiar and usual. But that was long ago, the city by the sea had fallen into ruin and then into legend, barely remembered by the younger races at all.

Her eyes still upon the ships below she delved into the Sidhe Art, calling forth the magic that slept there, just waiting for her to call it and give it form in the physical world. It woke at her mental touch, dancing through her veins and practically begging her to unleash it in the world. She allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment, feeling it within her, knowing that thrill of all its potential, savouring the sensation.

Without warning blue flames exploded into being around her hands, not burning her at all. She raised her hands, turning them this way and that, remembering the first time she had called upon the Art, so long ago and so far away, back on a dead world that would never be again. It had been different then...but it was not the time for reflection on past times. No, it was time to carry out the silent promise that she had made herself when she had first heard the messenger's words back in the red desert. Seek out their life's breath, she said softly to the flames, Seek out their heart's blood...make them burn.

The flames leapt from her hands, descending on those that would die before ever seeing the next day's dawn. Air would become like fire to those she had targeted, their blood as hot as lava, burning away their flesh from the inside. Water would not halt the flames, though they might dive into the sea it would not help them. So much water all around them and yet they would still burn, leaving nothing but ash behind. They would burn with all the power of the sorceress's hatred, they would be eaten away by fire even as she stood above them and watched their demise.

Yes, make them burn.

_________________
SO - Into darkness...
Hlasta! Quetis Ilfirimain
Elador's Sváss


Fri Mar 26, 2004 10:11 am
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The war had been taxing on the fortress on the beach. The war had been savage. The sand was not the best place for Droben to live on. Their massive heavy bodies made them even slower in the sand. The defenses did not hold. They fortress fell down. Like a sand castle battling the waves. it was wittled away to nothing and you could not tell that a once beautiful realm stood there. But before the destruction, Steven had done considerable damage. Although the droben were not too good fighting on the land of sand. They had pummeled the opposing the droben.


Sat Mar 27, 2004 8:09 pm
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The battles had raged for hours with the same faces Gunwallis Flint had seen not mere weeks before. Some of the same tactics were used, but this time, they had had the upper hand, the first strike. Flint scanned the horizon for probably the eighth time that hour and grunted to himself.

The lands of Sanctum Officium were burning. Peasants and kings alike were dead. This war had been devastating for them. Freedmans Law had taken damage of theirown, and all had put up a fair and good fight. There wasn't much more that Flint hated than men who fought poorly and without honor.

Cap'n Flint! Something's coming, and I canna identify what it be! Flint's second mate exclaimed from the bridge. Flint, who was aforeships, took off towards the bridge, his feet thumping hard on the deck. Men dashed this way and that to get out of his way, they knew better than to get in Flint's way when he was running.

Possibly a dozen strides away from his destination, he heard a multitude of shouts and cries, and suddenly, the deck beneath him tilted at a sickening angle. Flint felt himself falling towards the stern of the ship. Either something was pulling the stern down or the bow into the air. He hoped the keel would hold during this torture it was taking.

Grabbing hold of a piece of rigging, Flint found himself dangling, looking down at the stern. The hull had not been breached, and the water had not begun to flow into the innards of the ship. However, the being that had latched hold of The Medallion was strong enough that it had pulled a section of the stern into the water anyway.

MAGE JAMESLEY! Flint screamed above the groan of the timbers of his ship. He thought he heard a muffled answer from closer to the bridge. A hand went up, marking his location. Apparently, he'd been there with Flint's second mate. KILL IT!!

Bright yellow flames reared up from that location, and soared towards the partially submerged aft section. The water was nearly the location of the main hatch for the stern holds, and would begin to fill the ship, dragging her under even quicker. The nearest Flint could tell, he heard a great scream, and before he could react, the monster gave a great heave on his ship, sending it the closest to vertical that it had been, and let go.

Flint's stomach flipped as he felt himself falling, and hit the deck with a painful slap. Flint felt a stabbing pain within his chest. If he hadn't broken a rib, he'd severely bruised one. Staggering to his feet, he drew a breath to give an order, and nearly blacked out with the pain it caused. Walking seemed all right, and his main goal was to travel just those dozen strides to the bridge. It had been a long time since he'd been in such pain, but with short gasps of breath and small steps, he made it there.

His second mate stared, gaping at him. Flint for the first time looked down at his chest, and noticed that there was a thick piece of wood sprouting forth, blood gurgling around it as he breathed.

Find me a healer. Now. Flint rasped, and fell into a chair.

_________________
Gunwallis Flint
Today I wander these lands, searching for the sea I called home.


Sun Mar 28, 2004 2:35 pm
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"Now THAT is more like it."

Catching every breath of the new wind in her pristine white canvas sails, the Indefatigable surged forwards as if straining at a leash, her bow rising only to crash down upon the resurgent seas in her headlong rush towards the enemy. Though they had several days worth of sea to cross to make landfall and take part in the war against the Sanctum, the priest aboard the ship had emerged only hours beforehand to declare that Isonia would favour them with wind that day - that day, and for the week afterwards. And a blessed wind it was, for it blew straight from the stern to the fo'c'sle and true as an arrow towards their destination.

Letting his breath slowly seep out in a quiet sigh, Hammond turned to watch the crew at work. Back were the smiles and good humour of the days before the ship was becalmed. A man's wages at sea were loot and glory, and the sea air wasn't the only thing which seemed fresher when the crash of the waves and the keening of the wind put stale biscuit and stiff beef from the sailors' minds.

"Mister Flambard!"

The young midshipman rushed to the Captain at the calling of his name, eager to prove himself after the slovenly performance by his men earlier in the week. "Aye sir?"

"I'd like you to go aloft with two of your keenest lookouts, and yell if you see so much as a cloud poke it's nose above the horizon."

"Aye aye, sir!"

"We're late into this war, Mister Flambard - you're tasked with making sure we find something to make this wind worth the Goddess' while!"

The midshipman touched his hat in salute, and turned to bawl out the orders to his crewmen. Moments later, the pasty youth began the long climb towards the crow's nest, hoping against hope that the wind would not be too gusty on the way up.

_________________
Freeman's Law
Ashore these men are not as other men;
They walk as strangers through the crowded street,
Or, brooding by their fires, they hear again
The noise astern, where gurgling waters meet.


Sun Mar 28, 2004 8:15 pm
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