[center][h3]~| Infested Waters|~[/h3] Location: Across the Sea (Unknown officially) Time: Months Earlier before arrival at Nyhem (summer’s end) Featuring: Dyril, Kiseo, and Morian (written by Fallenreaper and ArisenMoon) [hr] [/center] Across the horizon two distant ships named the [i]Bein Thúl[/i] [sup]*[/sup] and [i]Nen Sigil[/i] [sup]**[/sup] rolled over the waves lapping at their hulls. In union they broke smoothly across Elven Imperium territory and headed proudly toward Formaroth, neither hindered by the rise and fall of the tide. Onboard the [i]Bein Thúl[/i], Dyril could easily see the crew were keenly in their element. Their bodies rushed about in the background, each man attending to his own duties, and rarely paused long enough to acknowledge her presence on the deck. She might’ve been a patron for the ship’s services, but she wasn’t the most important factor of this journey. In the early months of the voyage, Dyril had been greatly bothered by it. She assumed it was because she wasn’t use to being publicly ignored. Instead she was often studied like some bizarre, obscene insect that had crawled its way from the darkest hole imagined within her family’s affairs. When she was very young and ignorant to the reaction of hybrids, she felt outlandish. However as time gradually went on, the behavior become expected in her everyday life. Now, she found herself too aware of its absence and struggled with how to react correctly to it. Oddly enough, relief had replaced the anxiety within a month causing her to become use to it. The atmosphere was clearly much lighter compared to the many years she spent in the manor. It was something she found herself cherishing as she left a small, feminine smile creep along her lips. Her sights turned back upon the horizon as she resisted the urge to relax her image and lay her head upon her comfortably crossed arms upon the deck’s railing. Her pride prevented her to act upon a childish impulse as her attention returned to spotting the large, gray shape called land in the far distance. She had done this every day for most the month, her mind believing it would make the voyage faster or impede her growing nerves rattling against her bosom. Each day was too soon to expect the sighting and even if she did, the man in the crow’s nest would spy it first before herself. With the thought in her head, her eyes shifted upward to notice the man named Jeb stationed there. Through the man was among the youngest, he had the keenest eyes according to the [i]Bein Thúl[/i]’s captain Tato Brys. Captain Brys was considerably interesting as far as humans go, through in Dyril’s mind he was inferior to Elves on most accounts. Naturally her attention drifted toward the dark haired, blue eyed man with skin like ebony at the helm. Currently he was occupied with the ship’s navigator who seemed to be insisting on a change in course which the captain frowned upon. Though he lacked the regal image their escort ship’s captain, Revion, on the Nen sigil had, his bravery was admirable. Not many sailors dared to venture into dangerous water infested by pirates. Dyril Elian let out a small breath then pulled her arms off the ship’s railing. They fell in front of her and crossed at her waist, one arm gripped the other. It was a habit from her days in the Elven court. Often it was considered the proper fashion for women to always ensure their hands and arms were in displayed in front for all to see. Through Dyril knew little about the custom, she suspected it developed to show feminine subservience to the Elven male role. The summer’s clear and calm day had determine her wear to be a simple pleated shirt and an over dress, through the salty air weighed the fabric down across her figure making it uncomfortable. After about a month at sea, she had Kiseo stop wrapping her fingers since it longer mattered. Something moved into her peripheral vision causing Dyril to pause and tense, then whip her head about. She promptly relaxed upon seeing Kiseo, who gradually move into her usual position, and cautiously study her master’s reaction. Unlike Dyril, she was dressed in more modest attire to reflect her status as a slave: worn linen shirt and pants. A small smile broke across the angular features creating a softening on seeing the Mao up and about. Weeks ago, Kiseo had fallen victim to sea sickness. Dyril was fearful because it was believed it could become scurvy if the Mao didn’t recovered from it. Scurvy often become lethal and through they had means to prevent it, through fermented cabbage to lime juice, there was little ability to properly treat it when contracted. [color=plum] “Have you fully recovered, Kiseo?”[sup]***[/sup],”[/color] Dyril asked as she studied Kiseo, her eyes noted the color had returned to the yellow brown fur once more. In fact she looked much better than she did a week ago bring surprising relief to the hybrid Elf’s mind though she didn’t let the expression reach the surface. [color=plum] "Yes, mistress,"[/color] Kiseo retained her trained submissive manner, but her eyes flickered about the deck and the activity. Dyril knew the expression well. The Mao had questions building up within her and it was only time before they all came spilling out for answers, something that she felt got the slave in more trouble than necessary. Before she could answer, the man in the crow’s nest straightened up then shouted something below. “Captain, Brys! A ship to our port side,” Hollered the young lad while he seemed to scan for any identifying marks, his arm began to pull down the white flag which usually meant smooth sailing. His hand gripped the red, often a call for assistance from pirates or other sea worthy dangers the [i]Nen Sigil[/i] could aid with. Immediately, several crew men halted in their work to cautiously watch the mysterious ship’s next actions. Among them were Dyril and Kiseo, both fearful the ship would bound toward them and spur the crew into action. --- Morian stood at the prow of the [i]Sea Wolf[/i], his eyes on the horizon as the ship glided across the water. The pure white sails were high in the air, catching the best of the breeze, sending the vessel across the ocean towards their target at a rapid speed. He turned his head slightly, looking back at the men moving about their tasks. Reaching up to his neck, he unclipped the cloak he wore, letting it fly off with the breeze. "Lads, they have seen us by now. Those little ships they got don't have the speed to beat us. They are ours for the taking!" He raised his fist in the air, and his crew gave a roaring cheer. "Make ready to board! Arm yourselves, and kill the crew. Take any officers alive." The pirates gave another cheer, and quickly began rushing across the top deck, grabbing swords and axes, as several grabbed bows and arrows. Morian himself reached down to the side of the vessel, where he had left his rapier. He picked it up, and quickly tied it around his waist. "Bring us in, and raise the colors!" Moments after he spoke, two men quickly gripped a coil of rope lying on the deck, quickly pulling on it. A pure red flag quickly caught the breeze, billowing in the wind. As it unfurled, the image of a orange phoenix could be seen on it. House Antherion had come. --- Dyril's fluttering heart dropped and settled deep in her stomach upon witnessing the trailing ship's red flag unfurl to reveal pirates. She had only heard, from lucky sailors, about a deep red flag graced by an orange, flaming bird across the bottom and most often few individuals ever survived the encounter. If it wasn't for the fact they were now stalking her ship, she might considered the irony that these pirates were gradually wiping out their livelihood with each raid. No survivors frighten people into avoiding the sea and that meant less sailors, which explained the slim picking between Formaroth and the Elven Imperium. She continued to stare in disbelief even when the men spurred into action. Lads and veterans, of all ages, raced across the deck toward the riggings. Their arms tugged at the riggings as they pulled them down, the sails became unfurled when they caught wind. The ship lurched forward and into the current heading toward Formaroth. Kiseo, quicker to recover from the silent shock, was the first to move. Her hands immediately wrapped protective about Dyril’s shoulder then began to lead the hybrid down below deck. Thankfully, the [i]Bein Thúl[/i] was much faster than she looked as she began to pull out distance over the two larger ships. Meanwhile, the [i]Nen Sigil[/i] had also prepared itself for a confrontation. Men upon the decks scrambled for their swords, daggers, and numerous other weapons as they hoisted their sails into the wind. The mast creaked harshly at the sudden increase of speed. Revion, a stout and healthy looking Elven rushed to the deck’s surface. His uniform easily showed his stature as captain among his crew with a prime white shirt, well kept breeches, boots, and belt with a sword sheathed within it. His long black hair was slicked back and placed in a ponytail, his voice raised among the bedlam with an authoritative roar, “Steady men gather your weapons! Let’s see if we can catch those filthy bilge rats’ attention and give them something else to chase.” He turned back toward the portly human male at the helm, his hair white and thinning on top, “Mr. Letizi, cut amidst the port and forward direction. I want us betwixt that filth and the [i]Bein Thúl[/i], do you understand?” "Yes sir!" With that, Letizi jerked the helm's wheel to the direction then held her firmly. With surprising grace and ease, the [i]Nen Sigil[/i] began her angular direction to block the smaller ship from view. Revion was hoping the show of aggression might scare off or discourage the pirates, but he held great doubt it would work. Instead he focused on shouting orders in order to get as much speed as possible from the winds and the sails so to keep the vermin busy. --- Morian watched the target ships moving, observing their deployment and changes. He was annoyed, now that he saw what he was truly up against. They had am escort vessel, and no simple escort ships at that. These were dedicated combat ships he faced. Such events demanded a change of tactics. Turning, he began walking down the length of the [i]Sea Wolf[/i], shouting new orders. "Stow the bows and arrows. All archers, grab the pots and get ready to toss! Shields to the fore, prepare to provide cover!" His orders set his men into action once more. The archers quickly put away their bows and arrows, before opening a hatch in the ship. They quickly, but carefully pulled out several pure red pots held within, handing them to each other. At the same time, several of the larger pirates were picking up large slabs of wood, hefting them on their shoulders. The two groups quickly moved to the port side of the ship, shields in front with pots behind. "Steer us to the starboard of the escort ship. Cripple the port side vessel, and prepare men to board the smaller ship. We will deal with them first, then pursue the fleeing ship." The helmsman nodded to Morian, quickly spinning the helm. The longship quickly came around, cutting through the water, and setting course directly between the two escort ships. --- In all of his time on the vast seas, Revion had confidence in his abilities. He was a well seasoned sailor and captain, especially with his age as an elven individual. Highly reliable, his reputation had given him vast employment over the decades to support his family back on the mainland shores of Ilrenqua, an Elven coastal city. This alone kept them all from poverty and forced servitude among the Patricians ranks where nothing but abuse, pain and misery awaited them. Without him and this risk, they would suffer. This motivation was the key thing that spurred Revion on as his eyes watched the [i]Sea Wolf[/i] draw closer. Unlike the [i]Bein Thúl[/i], the [i]Nen Sigil[/i] was much slower in comparison and in moments the smaller ship quickly began to leave them behind. By the time the pirate ship had covered the distance needed, the smaller ship’s stern had left its escort about three meters in its wake on its attempt to escape and the larger quarry had moved in for the block. Its port beam exposed to the attackers, Revion made three sharp blows to an ivory whale bone whistle causing all the crew’s heads to turn to the port side. It was clear they were about to be boarded as they rushed in to form a small line about the ship’s edge. Each one, save for Letizi at the helm, had their weapons ready and were willing to fight until the last breath since they had little choice now. If the Sea Wolf had been a living, breathing wolf, Revion was sure he would’ve seen the fangs bared for what the beast assumed to be an easy kill. However, the crew of the [i]Nen Sigil[/i] wouldn’t go down easily. Each man was a trained combat fighter in this line of work and all intended to take down at least a pirate or two before their dying breath. “Steady men, the moment they board first wave rush them. Letizi, no matter what, keep this ship between them and the [i]Bein Thúl[/i]. Is that clear?” Revion asked the helmsman, the human nodded with a brave face and trying to swallow down the fright swelling in all of their chests. This was a confrontation no one looked forward to, but it couldn’t be avoided without risking their employer’s own vessel. As the [i]Sea Wolf[/i]’s deck became visible, the Elven captain's eyes tighten in suspicion upon seeing the strange sight of the men positioned with shields and another row positioned just behind them. Something was happening but he couldn’t fathom what. --- As the [i]Sea Wolf[/i] came along with the side of the first ship, Morian brought his fingers up to his face, and proceeded to give a sharp whistle. Nearly in unison, the men holding pots took two steps forward, and threw the pots up into the air, and onto the deck of the ship. As the pots hit the deck, they shattered, releasing their contents onto the deck. Whale oil quickly spread out across the deck, and the a few of the enemy sailors got doused in it as well. Morian extended his hand, and one of his sailors passed him a burning torch. Morian made brief eye contact with whom he assumed was the captain of the other ship. Morian then brought his arm back, and tossed the burning torch onto the deck of the other ship, into one of the oil pools. Turning his head, he waved for the helmsman to pull them away. They had another target to get. --- When the oil splattered across the water soaked deck, Revion came to a deep and dark conclusion. This man wasn't a pirate. He was raging lunatic and a cold blooded murder, an individual that likely sought to wipe out every ship on the sea. A few of the crew had managed to step back and prevented themselves from being doused in the liquid as their expressions were warped by confusion. When Revion made eye contact with Morian, he spotted the torch and spurred into action. His lithe figure darted across the oil pools toward the helm just when the pirate had tossed the torch. Revion’s words once more ripped across the salty air in urgency, "Fall back to the boats, NOW!" Letizi watched in horror as the fire rushed across the deck the moment the oil was touched. His stout form was pushed out of the way and toward the nearest boat by the captain, the elf quickly placed his sword into his sheath then ripped a rigging rope from the nearest hook. He began to bind it upon the helm's wheel and fastened in a fashion to follow the retreating [i]Sea Wolf[/i]. His long ears caught the chaos erupting along the deck. Men screaming as fire blazed across their figures and being shoved either overboard or in a mad dash for the boats. A few boats splashed down as sailors climbed haphazardly upon them. Others dove off into the sea, becoming helpless victims to her fickle nature. The fire spread to consume the wood on the deck quickly and would become a wild blaze in minutes. Revion paused for a moment, his eyes noted that the [i]Bein Thúl[/i] gradually became a speck on the distant horizon. She would live to see another day it seemed as even if the pirates rushed to pursue, they would never catch her before she entered Formaroth’s sea boundaries and encountered the Neptuna’s navy. They would be out manned before they managed to catch one single ship. A smirk shined on his angular face, Revion vanished below deck to jam the rudder. An inferno greeted him upon entering. Smoke and fire licked the hull sides around him as he moved from the stairs toward the aft side, seeing the rudder not far from his position. He unsheathed his sword then with all of his might, jabbed down into the rudder’s mechanics to prevent it from moving in it’s preset course. It embedded deeply and stuck fast. During Revion’s task below the deck, Morian would see the [i]Nen Sigil[/i]’s side smack into the [i]Sea Wolf[/i]’s. The fire jerked and tried to spread from ship to the other, a few breaking out over the [i]Sea Wolf[/i]’s surface from the contact. Back down below decks, Revion coughed and moved from the aft toward the stairs again. He found them nearly covered in fire now. Not wanting to be burned too badly, his arms removed his captain’s coat and then placed it in front of him like a barrier to protect any exposed skin. Not able to stay long, he rushed through the flames up the barely stable stairs. One cracked and nearly made him stumble, his leg barely saved him from a horrible death. Embers from the fire caught the coat on fire as he continued to move to the nearest side. A yell bellowed from his lip upon feeling heat touch his bluish flesh, his arms tossed away the now burning coat behind him and dive into the water. He sank a bit, then swim up to break the surface. Fresh air enveloped his lungs causing him to gasp and cough to clear the carbon from his throat, his arm covered in what he believed was heavy burn wounds. Any fire on his person was now doused leaving him painfully scarred. A nearby boat caught sight of him and began to paddle in his direction with the intention to haul onboard. --- Morian ignored the screams behind him. The shrieks of pain, and the shattering of the boat were of little care to him at the moment. What was more demanding of his attention, was the loss of the other ship. The speed of the little vessel was truly surprising, and Morian could barely see it on the horizon, after only a few minutes. Perhaps it would bring word of his ships actions. If it did, it would accelerate his plans if the mainland forces decided to respond. However, Morian had little doubt he could continue his plans. He finally turned around the look back at the other ship, a majority of the flames put out as the ship sank beneath the waves. He saw a few sailors in the water, but a majority of the survivors seemed to have congregated around a few rowboats. The warship had to come around at a wide sweeping angle, to avoid the other vessel, which was still floating. Morian signaled for the [i]Sea Wolf[/i] to come around, and he didn't need to tell his men to grab the bows again, they were already doing it. They moved to the sides of the ship, and with cold efficiency, began to fire at the survivors in the water. Morian signaled for the ship to come to a halt, as they pulled along side a small clump of ships. His men moved to the side of the ship, raising their bows and aiming at the scattered survivors. Morian pushed his way forward, his men making a small gap for him. "Hello, my name is Morian Antherion, of House Antherion. As of this moment, you are now all my prisoners. Throw your weapons into the water, and you will be brought aboard. If you refuse..." He flicked his wrist, and one of his men loosed their arrow. It sailed through the air, and planted itself in one of the men standing in the back of a rowboat. The poor man jerked from the impact, before falling into the water. "You will find that doing as I say is much more preferable than resisting..." --- Revion had been almost pulled up when arrow whistled past and darted into the water behind. His assisting crewmate suddenly widen his eyes and let go, his figure slumped over the edge as he splashed in with an arrow in his back. Not willing to let the man drown, the elven captain’s right hand gripped the side of the boat while his other reached for the fallen sailor. He snatched the shirt collar then tugged him toward the cover of the boat’s shadow. More arrows whistled by and were followed by more hollers, yells and panicked dives for any sort of cover. A few boats overturned with sailors hidden underneath to shield them from being shot. When the arrow fire ceased, Revion listened to the ultimatum before another good man fell victim to the pirate’s cruelty. His jaw set in resistance while a few men tossed what little weapons they had into the water. Deep inside, the now ex-captain wanted to test the man’s threat rather than be a prisoner to a beast. Either way, all of them would die at this man’s hands. His men, on the other hand, had different feelings and hoped to see their families in the future. All of them readily surrendered to the tyrant’s orders as they sat in the boats, waiting to be hauled up and imprisoned. They were done. [hr] [sup] * Elven- Fair Wind in Formaroth ** Elven- Water Dagger in Formaroth ***Because there’s no reliable translators and fact I would actually like people to read the conversation OOC, whenever they speak in another language it will be color coded. Plum is Elven, Coral is Mao, and more colors will be added as needed. Through these are the primary ones they use. [/sup]