I'm sorry, but I might just drop out as well. I've just been having a hard time getting into rp'ing at the moment and I don't want to delay anyone further.
To Count Vasha,
Thank you for your threat. Please notice how one third of your trading caste were recently murdered by their staff during their sleep.
-The Weeping Widows
As the drumbeat quickened the rowmen likewise hastened their pace, sending the ship barrelling through the waves towards the distant target. The captain had called for ramming speed, intending to destroy the small trading vessel without giving it a chance to fight back, no matter how small of a threat the schooner posed to his mighty warship.
Below decks one of the crew made his way through the vessel, the torch gripped firmly in his hand as his eyes gazed forward with a divine purpose. Approaching the armoury he pulled out a dagger, plunging it up into the guard's heart before he even had a chance to react. Quickly searching the man's body, the crewman pulled out the keys and unlocked the armoured door.
Pulling it open he gazed at the row upon row of volatile fluids stored carefully in well padded jars. Moving down the rows the man began to pull jars from the shelves, letting them fall shattering to the deck unheeded as hge made his way to the back of the room. Finally he lay restfully against the bulkhead, a moment of true peace in his otherwise hectic life.
Finally opening his eyes for one last time, he muttered softly to himself as he loosed his grip on the torch. "For the Widows."
The fireball split the warship in half, great flames exploding outwards as the mighty vessel quickly sank between the waves. The deadly oils stettling on the surface continued to burn, preventing all but the luckiest of the crew from making it clear of the wreckage and carnage.
In the distance the small sailing ship turned away. On the deck a veiled woman smiled gently as she likewise turned her back on the enemies of the people.