[M] Seas of Plunder: A Map-Based Pirate Adventure IC

[Crazywolf]

It was a typical day in the port-city of Iagos. The warm tropical sun shining down on red tiled rooftops and stone paved streets while busy folk went about their business and ships sailed in and out of the harbour. However deep inside the palace all was not well...

The Consul shuffled through the pile of reports in front of him then slammed his first down on the desk. "Pirates! Pirates! All I hear about is pirates! These scoundrels are a threat to our nation's prosperity. This situation must be brought under control. Do you understand?"

The admiral standing in front of him gave a slight nod. "Yes sir I do."

"Good" the consul replied tersely. "Because I want you to hunt them all down. Send out every warship we have to find them. Do I make myself clear?"

The admiral gave another slight nod. He knew that the consul was not a man to argue with. "Yes sir, it will be done."

The consul waved a hand. "That is all you are dismissed."

[DistortedReality]

It was a fine day, a perfectly fine day one that would be great for sailing, looting, and all the other joys that pirates like Finn enjoy. These were the things he reflected upon thinking about as he looked up at the quickly darkening sky and the fierce winds that were ripping through the air already. He had been down in his quarters making sure everything about his appearance looked amazing as he was because, let's be honest who wants to go plundering looking like a common sailor. When suddenly one of his crew came barging in telling him they were about to sail right into a tropical storm.

"Well this day is off to just a wonderful start, isn't it!" Fin shouted as he rushed from his room below deck to the upstairs where he could see that his fellow pirate was right. "Son of a- YOU! Batten down the hatches! Grab some buckets! Make sure everything is secure!" Fin was barking orders, storms were not new to him but storms were unpredictable every time you were in them and this didn't seem like it was just going to be a bit of rain and unsettling winds. Crew were running this way and that to make sure that the ship was ready, The Lust of Atlantis was already shaking a bit, Fin was checking his hair...

After one of his crew smacked him upside his head to get his attention Fin noticed that the rain was already starting to fall, hard. He quickly grabbed a large spool rope from below deck and started cutting of decent sized pieces to hand to his crew to tie themselves to things and pray none of them went overboard. Unfortunately, he couldn't give rope to everyone because there had to be some people left to damage control. They knew who they were and they accepted it willingly. Those that were not tied to the Atlantis were bailing water that was coming from both the rain and the waves that were getting increasingly bigger with each moment.

The storm seemed to go on for hours relentlessly pounding the ship with water, wind, and waves. Fin had to watch as some of his brave crew got swept overboard into the sea, and he knew that with a storm like this, few that went over were likely to be seen again. But after what seemed like an eternity, the large tropical storm they had found themselves in, slowed. The waves became less large, the rain became a patter, and the wind slowed to a mere gust. The crew began untying themselves to get a look at the possible damage.

After a quick body count Fin had saw that he had lost 10 crew members in the storm, but the ship seemed relatively unharmed. Fin was deeply saddened by the lost of the crew members, Fin cared for each person no matter what background they came from, so long as they were on his ship and under his command. He stood barefoot on the main deck and addressed his crew, "You all did a fine job under those horrid weather conditions." This gave a rise from the crowd of surviving crew members. "But we did lose some crew members today," Fin said in a saddened voice afterwards. The crew all bowed there heads saying whatever prayer they felt was necessary for their fallen comrades.

"But I suppose it's all apart of the job description eh? Come on we have a lot more to get done and a lot more to plunder!" He took out his sword and raised in the air in true inspiring speech nature, his crew yelling out and giving the same motion with their weaponry. As they all went back to their day to day jobs Fin went back down to his cabin to get out of his soaked clothes and fixed his once perfect hair that had been ruined by all the rain.

[AmericanEmperor]

The winds blowing from the South gently tapered the edges of the Crimson Lance's blood-red sails. Captain Bo Blackheart was sitting seven paces behind the steering wheel, feeding crackers to his mystical parrot, Jones.
"Bird o'mine," he spoke to the creature softly, stroking the side of its head, "What does fortune have in mind for us today?" This was a habit of Bo's. The parrot knew when ships would appear, as well as danger in the form of Pirate-Hunters. An old voodoo woman had once insisted that the parrot had two souls, its mundane, animal soul, and that of an ancient Celestrian spirit, a woman. That was clearly all nonsense, Bo thought, but the Parrot did have somekind of power...
"Squawk!" the Parrot replied...."On the horizons...scales stirring....hot breath leaking and sea boiling! Squawk!" it repeated, ruffling its green feathers, "Sea Serpent, port side."

Captain Blackheart merely chuckled and said, "Oh silly bird, you must be reaching the end of your days, there's not been a Sea Serpent in these waters for..."
Suddenly, there was a commotion on the port side of the ship. Several crewmen had gathered, and First Mate Barnaby, a rugged man with a scar on his bronze-toned left cheek, yelled, "Something stirring on the port side, sah! What did ye parrot say, Captain?

Wide-eyed in horror, Blackheart ordered his men to quickly take up position around the cannons. As they scrambled about to ready for the fight, a great arching back, purple scales glinting in the sunlight, emerged from the water. The head was draconic, a great snout that when thrown back and roared, emitted a gout of intense flame. Blackheart could feel the heat on his back.

The first volley of cannons did no good, as the creature submerged and wrapped its great body around the ship. The force of the squeeze, like a python, cracked the hull and sent men flying. The head came around again, bringing the scent of rotting fish and salt, but then came the second volley like a crack of thunder. The balls pierced the serpent's flesh, and it roared in pains as chunks of scale and meat flew upwards and fell into the sea. There would soon be sharks, Blackheart cursed.

The serpent's hold on the Crimson Lance was doing even more damage, and one of the sails toppled over, crushing several crewmen beneath it. The third volley disengaged the creature a little, and the head flopped around on top of the deck. Blackheart saw his chance. He grabbed a rope from the falling rigging around him and swung towards the creatures head. He grabbed a horn where the eyelash would be (if the creature had eyelashes) and swung it downwards into the Serpent's pupil. As it screamed and writhed and pulled back its neck in blinding pain, Blackheart fell down back to the deck with such force that he was knocked out.

When he came to, the crew told him that the creature had fled, and they had successfully blinded the Serpent. Disappointed, Blackheart said, "That was my favorite sword," and downed a great chug of rum.

[V]

"Captain!" Came the shrieks of a crew member, Skren would have to note the voice for later purpose. The coins he'd been counting had slipped from his fingers to crash over the table inside his cabin. Urgent door knocking made him toss the rest down in frustration. Ripping open his door to the salty air he was met with panicked crew. The same pestering voice howled at him, "Captain, it's the Navy!"

With a growl Skren ripped the man's spyglass from him and glanced out into the direction of the pointing. Sure enough there it was, a huge warship from Iagos. It was making a flat line directly for them over the waves. The man he'd taken the spyglass from was still standing about shaking his hand in pain. Skren glared at him, "do you need the Claws?"

A bulking figure started looming over him in an instant, leering he lifted his two arms up. In place of hands he had large metal hooks.

It sufficed, and the man was soon climbing some rigging or something. Skren paid no noticed to the fool, shouting commands instead. There was a fucking warship closing in, sure enough to rip through their hull with a few shots. Capture his men, hang him, take all the gold!

"You scum want to ever see another piece of shiny gold again?" He screamed at one end of the ship, his mouth at the helmsmen's ear. He shoved the spyglass to his eye again. "We need speed!"

With the crew hastened the StormRage was picking up speed, yet Skren didn't let up his constant stream of abuse. And where ever he was not, Claws seemed to be. The Navy was not getting his gold today.

After what was probably hours, Skren's voice was hoarse and his speech full of rugged incomprehensible statements. The Navy seemed to be slowing as the night began to fall. Glaring at the Skren knew this wasn't over, likely he would meet them again the next day. They were always out to get his gold.

[AmericanEmperor]

The sun was setting behind the Crimson Lance as it limped onward, making towards the direction of the nearest harbor, Celestria itself. The water before the stern was black as night, and no sign of land had yet appeared. The ship's remaining sails had caught the wind as best they could, but the fallen topsail and mainmast had made things slow going, to the point that when there was no wind, they were stuck. Attempts had been made to paddle the ship forward, but there was not nearly enough crew still alive from the attack to make a dent.

"Captain," the first mate Barnaby said, "The crew has done their best to tar up the cracks in the hold. We need repairs though, and fast. We also are beginning to run out of food supplies, much was lost to the sea during the attack."

"That damned sea serpent," Blackheart pounded his fist upon the table, "We will make it surely...but we will have to persevere."

"Aye. I'll halve the rations then for the men. But it will put them in a foul mood."
"Better a foul mood than no food at all, Barnaby. I will retire now for the night. You have the ship."

Blackheart returned to his room, finding no grog left in his stores. The celebratory whiskey, reserved for an unspecified date and time, was still there, but to the Captain, the time did not seem right, even if alcohol could ease his woes. He tried his best to sleep, laying his head to rest on a feathery pillow, but his back was aching him, and he could not.

At two in the morning about however, the first mate pounded on the door of the ship. The Captain rubbed the cold out his eyes, quickly dressed, and swung open the door. "What in blazes are you disturbing my rest for, Barnaby?"

"A ship, sir," Barnaby gesticulated wildly out to sea, "There's a ship out there. An ocean-going barque."
"What colors? asked Blackheart, already knowing the answer.
"Celestrian. But there are stores on there. Grain, and maybe even fish as well! It has only four cannon, two to a side and probably no less than twenty crew. We could go over in rowboats and board with ease."
"Hmmm..." Blackheart thought about it, as he looked out to sea. He could indeed see the colors of the Celestrian crown flying high in the cool wind. And Barnaby was right, it would replenish their supplies for the rest of the journey and then some. But...
"No," said Blackheart, "We don't attack Celestrian shipping."

"But..."
"That's my order, First Mate, we will not be attacking that transport."
The First mate's mouth went agape, then he scowled and said, "Aye, Captain."
The First mate left to relay the orders to the crew. Blackheart returned to his cabin. That night there was idle talk in the hammocks, cursing the Captain in tones that might have seemed mutinous. But there was no mutiny...not yet.

[V]

"Captain I can't believe that plan worked."
"Captain you the best Captain!"
"The Navy will think twice about hunting you down!"


Would be nice thoughts to go on, if they had occurred at all. Instead they had limped away from the Navy ship while shitting themselves hoping to whatever damned sea gods were out there looking down on them. Because by fuck a cannon ball to the face was shit way to go. One estimate from one crew member by the name of 'Sally Sal Sop' had them survive from the superior armaments of the other vessel only so they had someone to hang.

But it was a new day, time to clean up the crew. Time to whip the fools into working order. Once you clean yourself up first Skren. And put on your hat. And drink half a bottle of alcohol, because your nerves a shot.

And kick Sally's ass.

Half drunk and growling for food, the Captain ripped his door open. "Boys I smell tobacco in the air!" Standing outside the door was the bulky Claws, smoking with a pleased smile on his face. "See this man, aspire to be Claws, pirates!"

One young cabin boy nodded at this words and lifted his knife high aiming for his own wrists, his hand was caught by Sally. The old pirate grunted, "idiot boy."

It was some time later when Skren received word from some one, Penzal probably. They had spotted a new vessel, luckily it wasn't the navy this time. That would have shit on the moral.

"Boys!" He screamed out loud, waving in the direction of the smaller craft. "Let's do some killing!"

~

"Don't tear up the goods!" Skren was screaming as cannons fired all around him. The merchant vessel had tried to run, it's crew obviously thinking less of his crew then he did. For that they had to pay. Yet greed was his primary motivator, "you want gold? Those merchants are robbing you of what you deserve!"

Suddenly they were close, his men were boarding. It was a slaughter, neither side giving in. But both captains already knew the fate of the battle, Skren surely had more fighting men. The weaklings they were, the merchants surrendered.

~

"Wine. Tobacco." Skren whispered with his head in his hands looking over the supplies his crew was bringing over. Most had a bottle in hand, or a bottle in mouth. Skren reasoned it would be a threat of mutiny if he denied them this wine, if he denied it later too. Bloody worthless to a bunch of thieves and fucking scum, only looking after their personal vices. Where the fuck was his, where the fuck was his gold?

Claws seemed to be claiming all the damn Tobacco as well. Bloody Claws!

The damn ship seemed to have taken some damage from a well timed cannon shot, or an ill timed one. Men had lost their lives to the attack.

"Poor Sally, died too young," muttered Skren with a shake of his head as he made his way back to his cabin.

"What the hell was the captain talking about?" Said Almost-Chop to the old man beside him, "Sally?"

Sally shrugged, he was too fucking drunk to understand Almost-Chop.

[DistortedReality]

After just escaping that damn storm Finn was sitting above deck causally relaxing. He thought he damn well deserved it after what had just happened. Storms, Finn hated storms. They just roll up right when you think everything is going fine and not only ruin your day but your hair too. So Finn was up enjoying the sun that had finally decided to show it's ugly mug and cracking rude jokes with his crew. It seemed like everything was going fine again when the man up in the crow's nest shouted down to Finn. "We gotta ship off in the distance!"

"Oh good maybe it's an unlucky merchant or trade ship," said Finn with a glint of greed in his eye. "Get yerselves ready men!" He shouted. As men scrambled this way and that Finn moved to get a better look at the ship then a sudden realization came over him. "STOP GETTING READY TO FIGHT AND GET READY TO FLIGHT!" He shouted. For Finn realized that the incoming ship was waaay to big to be a merchant or trade ship. And as if the universe had heard him the ship unrolled it's flag. "It's the fucking Kol!" Finn swore to himself. The ship started to turn and he could be damn sure they were readying their cannons.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Finn ordered watching as the first volley of cannons fell a bit short. "Let's get the hell outta here boys!" Finn knew the good ol Lust of Atlantis could out run a large warship like the one the Kol liked to have. Especially when you have a few tricks up your sleeves. The ships started to match pace the warship obviously realized they had them on the run and was going to attempt to run them down.

Finn ran below decks and started shouting to a couple of the spare men, "Get the burning pitch ready! We have to stall them for a little bit!" So that they did, hauling oil soaked wood on to floating platforms the crew kicked them out into sea then lit them on fire creating essentially burning buoys that the warship would have to avoid. Soon the warship was caught into an awkward position and the Lust was able to get sail fast enough that the large warship eventually lost them.

Sinking down into a nearby chair he had a crew member bring him a large glass of ale then congratulated his fellow crew members on surviving yet another disaster. "Today is just really not our day is it?" he sighed as he leaned back and took a long hard swallow of his ale.

[V]

"Claws, what are you going to spend your haul on?" Nearly-Chop inquired of the handless pirate. With a puzzled look he asked suddenly, "why do they even call you claws, those are hooks!"

Elsewhere on the vessel someone shouted, "we used to have Hooks."

A strong hand took the boy by the shoulder and lead him to the mast. "Claws was asleep by the way, now up you go." He motioned for the youth to climb the mast, who squinted upward and peered around.

Hesitating A-C asked, "what purpose is there up there for me?" The other pirate shrugged and motioned him forward. Squinting again, this time at the sailor he said slowly, "you look awfully like one of those merchants we ran into yesterday."

"What's all this loitering, Almost what are you still doing down here?!" Came a booming voice from Sally which made the youth start climbing up with all haste. "And your Grensick," Sally shook his head and walked off.

"That's not my name," muttered the pirate but didn't speak louder to correct the old pirate.

"Grensick!" Shouted Captain Skren. He looked around once or twice but no others seemed to want to step forward, so he rushed to the captain. "There you are, got rid of that awful moustache, good man." The captain rambled for a bit before clapping him on the shoulder, "now, shall I repeat all that to you, or will you guard the goods with your life?"

"Uh.... sir." He said, and received another clap on the shoulder.

"In your capable hands." He squinted at him again, inspecting the moustache region and nodded. "Good work Grensick."

It had turned out that the pirates liked wine, and Claws did enjoy the tabacco. It was a good thing, Grensick decided, his sword was sharp as he stood guard over the goods.

~

Hours later Skren, having found himself drunk again, was writing in his Captain's Journal. There was little to report beyond his continued disgust of his greedy crew and how the wine was beginning to taste like water. He liked to always include an estimated gold count of the worth of his acquisitions, but it was becoming increasingly difficult these days.

The night was coming and sleep was not, there was little surprise when he began to walk the decking. A voice shouted from above, "ship ahoy!"

Skren glared up the mast, who the dang hell was up there? In the distance he could indeed see the glow of another vessel. He looked around for Claws, found the giant enforcer lounging where he'd slept all day. He booted the man in the shin, "go rouse the boys, we got some night plundering ahead of us.."

As the vessel came closer the lighting became more ethereal and of another world. The Captain was perheps too drunk to notice until his deck was covered in men and they were drawing near. Superstition talk was whispered from pirate to pirate.

"Aye," the Captain called suddenly, though his voice was not loud it carried to every crew member. They didn't turn their heads but he knew they were listening. It was a spurt of creativity that made him continue, "a ghost ship," they could now see the ghouls working the ship, "curse to sail forever over the endless seas, never stopping at any port, never seeing land again, crew always working."

The could see the ghosts clearly now, "aye, I know of this ship," he said sadly watching the ghouls, "for a year they plundered any vessel they came across." He stopped speaking watching the ghosts work.

"Never returning to port, surviving off the goods they liberated," Skren continued his tale, "but what's a pirate without treasure... without gold - I ask you..." Slowly he turned from the other ship as it drew level.

"Maybe they will tell you."

He returned to his quarters suddenly feeling that he could sleep.



Above, Almost-Chop didn't know which scared him the most. The ghost ship? His captain's story? Or that he thought he saw one of the ghosts wink at him? He had a long night to answer that.

[AmericanEmperor]

The ship had been repaired, though for the next few days, the stench of tar baking in the sun filled the nostrils of every able-bodied seaman. Though they complained, they were much happier now that their bellies had been filled with rum, and their appetites for pleasures of the flesh now sated.

It was one fine afternoon, when Captain Blackheart was atop the forecastle, stroking his greased mustache and letting his hair unfurl and feel the breeze, when he saw a ship on the horizon.

It was a treasure galleon, a huge ship with large box sails and forty cannon, two sloops of war on either side to provide escort. It was flying the colors of an enemy nation, taking a short cut to a colony, skimming a little too close to Celestria for comfort. Captain Blackheart would make sure they never forgot that mistake again. It was also advantageous, for it would help remove the stain of mutinous thoughts from his crew.

"Let it be done," he muttered to himself, before roaring to all the crew on deck that could hear, "All hands! Ready the cannon and brace for combat! We are going to take that treasure galleon!"

The men cheered in exultation, and rushed to ready the guns. The Crimson Lance turned to broadside the first of the approaching sloops. The enemy craft had moved tangent to the Lance's field of fire, but with luck, the Lance could make up for it with a couple of raking shots across the bow of the ship.

The first volley made direct impact with the sloop's hull. The ship was devastated, pieces of its hull exploding in a flurry of splinters and flying sawdust that rained into the ocean. The ship immediately began to sink, sail toppling over. Its risky move had not paid off, and the other sloop, which was gaining on the Lance's starboard side, turned broadside to undermine this effective strategy.

"Sir!" yelled Barnaby, "Second sloop on starboard!"

"Fire!" replied Blackheart, waving his sword forward.

This time, the enemy sloop let out a volley of eight shots. Four of them impacted along the edge of the Crimson Lance, doing some damage, killing a few of the gunners below and sending a cannon into the sea. For the most part though, they got off light. All eighteen of the starboard cannons on the Lance rocketed towards the sloop, but most missed, for the lighter and faster ship caught the wind and spun around the bow.

"Shit!" yelled Barnaby, ushering a couple of cabin boys to put out the fire below decks.

"Turn us now!" yelled Blackheart, fearing a raking shot to his own ship's stern.
"Can't," Barnaby shouted back, "That treasure galleon is in range now, she's got more cannon, Captain."

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Blackheart belayed his last order, and forced them to take the brunt of the sloop's raking shot. The stern was ripped apart, and part of the Captain's captain fell away into the sea with the crashing of glass and more cascades of wood. The Lance managed to dodge most of the Galleon's assault, but took some damage on its port side as well.

"Fuck! Get me in range of that fucking Galleon so we can board, or else we're toast!"
"Aye, Captain!"

Finally, they reached a stroke of luck. Their ship caught the wind, and managed right by the edge of the Galleon. Quickly, the boarding party gathered on the rigging and behind the planks, and let loose, just as the Galleon fired a point blank cannonade straight into the Lance's port side.

The ship was ripped apart, at the same time as Blackheart's men began boarding. Many of them lost their support and plummeted into the sea. Others managed to get on board, and engaged the crew of the Galleon with swords. The sloop was coming back around now, getting out of a squall and heading back with the wind to come on the starboard side of the Lance.

"This is getting out of hand," said Barnaby, clutching his sword with a sweaty palm.
"Abandon ship!" Blackheart ordered, as he left Barnaby. "Get everybody onto the Galleon, we're making a transfer, as it were."
"Sir but..."
"That's an order, Barnaby!"

Barnaby did as he was told, and all the crew ran onto the Galleon, storming it. The collapsing Lance was beginning to sink now, but soon enough, Blackheart came out from within the hull and began running towards them. "Get this fucking barge moving already," he ordered his crew. The Galleon was a little strange at first, but with the threat of drowning to death looming over their head, they had the motivation to quickly learn its quirks.

They began to slowly get away until the Sloop came around the side of the Lance...
...and was blown sky high with it. The crew looked on Blackheart with awe.

"I lit a long-fuse into the gunpowder room," he explained. "It was risky, but that sloop would have overtaken us if we didn't, and this ship would have been lost too."

It was a victory and a loss for the crew of the Lance. Their ship had fallen to the depths, but they had gotten a treasure fit for a king. Enough gold that even a cabin boy's share could make a man wildly rich.

[DistortedReality]

THIRD AND FOURTH MOVE

Finn was hanging out down in his pirate quarters, doing what pirates do best; counting out his coin. "A-one gold piece, a-two gold piece, a-thr-" THUMP THUMP THUMP went Finn's door as the money that was littering his tiny beaten up desk shook slightly. "You better have a damn good reason for interrupting my private time!" growled Finn as he stood up and cracked his back slightly lumbering over to his door.

There he found one of his younger crew members shaking slightly and standing at attention. "Put yer hand down boy, were not the navy." This comment raised a few laughs from the surrounding crew. "Well come on now out with it, what did you see?"

"W-what appears to b-be a merchant s-ship, s-sir." stuttered the boy. Finn let out a large laugh then unsheathed his sword. "Well what are you waiting for! We gotta ship to raid!" He shouted responding with shouts from his crew as they manned their stations and headed towards the merchant ship in the distantce.

It was a slaughter. The merchant ship was just designed for one purpose. It was never meant to see battle. Finn's men killed anyone that felt like being a hero and captured the rest of the ship stripping it clean of useful materials. One of the things the ship was carrying was a large amount of parrots. Finn took a liking to one of them and in true pirate fashion took one to be his pet. He decided to name it Ishmael, simply because he took a liking to the name and off The Lust of Atlantis went, hoping to plunder some more.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week had past since the incident with the merchant ship and Finn liked it none too much. It was quiet, too quiet even. And knowing his luck that meant something bad was about to happen. Just to be a paranoid person he started walking through the holds, checking on his men and staring off into the ocean occasionally wondering what could possibly go wrong next on this misfit adventure they had decided to set out on. With good ol' Ishmael on his shoulder, Finn prepared for the worst.

And the worst happily met him with open arms.

"Sir something's moving in the water, I don't like it none too much." Said his trusted first mate, Peg Legged One Eyed Stan. Finn wholeheartedly agreed with him. Whatever was in the water it certainly didn't seem friendly. One moment it seemed calm, almost peaceful. Until suddenly a large tentacle shot out of the water. "GIANT SQUID." shouted one of the members of his crew. "MAN THE CANNONS DAMN IT!" shouted Finn.

They managed to ward off the one tentacle but there were always more pushing at Finn's boat and splashing water onto him and his crew. "YOU DAMN FISH, THIS IS MY BOAT." yelled Finn as another round of cannonballs connect with another one of the tentacles. He finally saw something he didn't think he would ever forget. One of the tentacles fast as lighting stole the young crew member that had warned him of merchant ship just a week before.

"NOOOOO." yelled Finn as the tentacle dragged the at least 19 year old pirate under the seas to Davy Jones locker then the squid, seemingly satisfied and didn't want to take anymore injuries to it's arms disappeared as fast as it had appeared. "God damn it!" said Finn slamming a nearby table. "He knew the dangers with the business," assured his first mate, but it was still gut wrenching all the same. They sailed off and Finn wondered how this trip could get any worse. Petting Ishmael he said, "I hope things turn out okay."

"Turn out okay," mimicked Ishmael.