[center][i]"The World Navy were the Eternal Ocean's first organized military group. Forged from the remnants of the military powers of the Old World, they sought to protect the survivors of Humanity and govern over them. However, they were far too regimental in their approach. Many of the survivors were happy to be rid of the shackles of the Old World and had decided to live a life of total freedom. They immediately rejected The World Navy's self-proclaimed government, which first sparked the ongoing strife between the Navy and the modern-day Sky Pirates"[/i]
~ [b]Archivist Cagen, The Tome of Rebirth[/b]

[h2]Act 1: The Winds of Change![/h2][/center]

[sup][b][i]Atlasday 13th Amiel[/i][/b][/sup]

[i][b]BOOM![/b][/i] Another sonorous tone added to the cacophony of battle that had been raging outside for the past ten minutes now. High-pitched shrieks and shouts of pain soon followed, complimenting the staccato of point cannon fire before another bellowing shot was loosed from the orchestral war-beast that was the Ocean Horizon, which only caused it to shake the entirety of its' structure. Amidst the opera of war, that had descended upon his ship once again, sat Captain Fletcher G. Payne; at his desk, entirely nonchalant and seemingly oblivious to the whole situation, despite the shattering of glass ornaments and china crockery that had once decorated his quarters.

The ship shook once more, this time from being on the receiving end of the enemy's cannon-fire. But the Captain refused to look up from the various maps that had been sprawled out upon his desk and aptly held in place by a few knives stabbed into the softwood surface. He reached out for his flagon of rum, draining it until only the last few dregs remained. Only then did he look up towards the door and sighed. His personal stock had run dry weeks ago and he was now relying on whatever they had left in the hold. But that would mean going outside and having to fight through whatever meager boarding force was trying to capture his ship this time around.

In a normal situation, Fletcher would have been far more attentive to the whole thing but considering this was the twelfth attack in as little as two weeks, he had grown extremely bored of it all. The attackers in question were likely another vassal ship to one Green Goran; a long-dead Captain of Vivian's Mercy, a notable pirate crew around these parts or at least they the used to be. The pirate crew, who still sailed in his name, were understandably angry at his untimely death and had put out a sizable bounty on Fletcher's head ever since his Bosun & long-term associate-turned-friend, [i]'Poole the Unkillable'[/i], had shot Green Goran through the face about three or four years prior. 

The fact that Poole had actually come back from the dead to carry out the slaying, however, meant that the crew didn't actually have the balls to attack the ship themselves, thus sending whatever ragtag crew of pirates who didn't know any better to carry out the job instead. It was pathetic really, but it remained the same ritual every time they passed through this section of the skies on their way through the skies nearest Shoel. He reminded himself to thank Poole once again for this inconvenience.

With an exaggerated exhale of breath, Fletcher pushed himself out of his chair, using his grasp on the edge of the desk to steady himself. The ship's shuddering was becoming increasingly more violent, not the mention the effect that the rum was having on him. [i]'Maybe another flagon would be too much?'[/i] His mind quickly thought. [color=0054a6][b]"Nonsense!"[/b][/color] He somewhat slurred in reply. Making sure to grab [i]Fujin[/i], Fletch made his way to the door of his chambers and to the sounds of raucous fighting beyond.

Opening the heavy, wooden door took some manner of effort and the Captain was instantly met by the bellow of an enraged pirate. Certainly not one of his own, but too well equipped and dressed to be just any pirate. The repulsively ugly man turned to face him, recognizing him for who he was. Another shout went up, this time in joy, and he began his charge towards Fletcher's doorway, his battle-axe flailing in the air above him. Being in the state he was, Fletch was in no hurry at all to try and stop the man. Instead, he merely waited until his charge brought him close enough and simply slammed the thick door closed. The resulting [i]Thud![/i] was accompanied only by the [i]crunch[/i] of his nose and the sound of the assaulting pirate clattering to the deck completely unconscious. Fletcher smiled at his own ingenuity.

He opened the door once more, this time stepping outside immediately and over the crumpled heap in front of him. To his surprise, the atmosphere was vastly more chaotic than he'd expected. Instead of the the half-hearted defense they been used to fielding for these attacks, Fletcher could see nearly every significant member of his crew out on the main deck, fending off the onslaught of pirates. It was then that he recognised the ugly one's attire. They contained the colours of Vivian's Mercy. He was immediately taken aback. They must've finally grown tired of sending dogs to do their dirty work and had decided to confront him themselves. 

Fletcher smiled, this was exactly what his crew needed: A good fight. Over the last month, the mood aboard the Horizon had become increasingly sullen as it always did at this time of year. It was only two weeks until the Festival of Light, the week-long celebration of the three Progenitor Moons graciously offering all of their combined light to the survivors of humanity. It was a time of jubilation and remembrance. It had been a traditional festival of celebration even long before Atlaias was slain. But with life upon the Eternal Ocean being so dark and bleak, a Festival of Light held all the more significance now.

For the crew of the Ocean Horizon, however, this was not to be. In the eight years since Fletcher had set his ship to the skies above the ocean, the Horizon had never once made it back to Shoel for the celebrations. Not through bad luck or timing but by Fletcher's own decision. Admittedly, it wasn't a very popular decision but the young Captain had maintained his stance on the matter nonetheless, stating that his mission was far more important than a week-long booze-fest. He'd even prohibited any festivities on board the ship. A rule that certain members of his crew had tried to break on more than one occasion but only succeed in earning his ire. Strict punishment in the shape of lashing awaited anyone who would try nowadays.

But this year was to be different. By some stroke of luck, which Fletcher had found hard to believe at first, the Horizon was going to be making port at the Tower-City of Shoel just in time for the Festival. He believed that the Progenitor Gods had finally had enough of his ruling and had conspired with fate to force the Horizon to attend the celebrations. Had he not been so religious, thanks to Cagen's balanced teaching of Science and Religious Studies, he would have immediately turned his ship in the opposite direction and sailed for three weeks straight. As it was though, Fletcher would have been a fool to do so. Many a Sky Ship Navigator relied on the constellation of the stars and the positions of the Moons to successfully guide their ship towards their destination safely and unharmed. And it was widely believed that the Progenitor Gods controlled the stars specifically to aid the sailors in this. And if the stars had led his ship to arrive at Shoel around the time of the Festival, then who was he to purposefully deny that from happening.

Without thinking any further, Fletcher stepped into the fray, holding his sheathed blade high above him and yelling, [color=0054a6][b]"Fight harder men! After this we sail toward Shoel & the Festival of Light!"[/b][/color]