Re: Galleon of the Black Mast
Rhorie paced. She couldn't help herself. Normally, she would be wood-carving somewhere on deck, perhaps the crow's nest or the forecastle, but not tonight. Here she was in the workshop, a broom abandoned, half-fixed, on the central bench, walking up and down insistently, repeatedly, her boot-heels tap-tapping an impatient rhythm on the well-cared-for floorboards. For about the third time in the last five minutes or so, Rhorie adjusted her short route to take her to the window. She peered out through the thick glass. A soupy mist covered almost every feature outside, but she could just make out the pearly orb of the Moon. She was still not quite at her highest point and Rhorie cursed silently, scowling. Another few minutes. Abruptly she stood perfectly still, then her foot began tapping again. She was normally a patient person, dealing with either monotonous jobs, drunken pirates or garbled shouts from the crow's nest on an almost daily basis - or on some days, a combination of all three. But now she could barely concentrate. On the exterior, she was vaguely cool and collected, but inside she was burning with curiousity and impatience. Why couldn't time go faster, Goddammit! She checked the window again and told herself to wait another minute. Then, she would take a very slow walk up to the Captain's quarters and be there exactly on time.
After a moment that was much less than a minute, Rhorie span on her heel and exited the carpentry workshop. Her steps were sharp and long, the walk of someone very eager to get to their destination. At the door to the deck, she paused briefly and tugged her scarlet tunic tighter around her, bracing herself for the Northern cold, then stepped outside. A small supressed shiver, then she was off again, boots rapping smartly on the deck, then the Captain's quarters were in front of her. She watched another pirate, someone she couldn't actually recognise in the misty gloom, enter through the door and stepped forward boldly, catching the handle as the finely-carved slab of varnished Southern oak swung back to its frame. Pushing it open again, she entered the warm glow of candles and then the Captain was there, nodding a friendly, yet almost formal nod to her that said all manner of respectful things. She nodded back and strode over to the crowd of pirates already assembled. She recognised everybody in the room, all people of vague importance in the crew or ones the Captain trusted and was friendly with. They were all chatting amongst themselves, then suddenly there was a hush. Rhorie moved to stand with Eben as the Captain began speaking.
"There be but one purpose to our collective goal, and in the end it is as certain as life and death. We do what we do for freedom and luxuries. Luxuries that we would never, in a thousand years, be able to acquire had we chosen another life. However, this life does not come without risk. The greater the gain, as with most things, the greater the risk." Rhorie wondered at the strange introduction of sorts. It was interesting and hinted that there was a lengthy monolgue to follow, but she hoped fervently that there wasn't. She just wanted to know what this secret meeting with the Captain in the middle of the night was all about. After a sufficient thoughtful pause from the Captain, he continued.
"As some of you may have noticed we have a prisoner aboard the ship." Another pause. Rhorie felt butterflies jittering in her belly. What was the secret?? "She is the princess of Helsink. A bounty or sorts has been placed on her head by none other than His royal majesty." Rhorie found herself taking the news surprisingly calmly. A quiet gasp, that was all. A huge part of her was simply saying 'I knew it all along! Of course it's the Princess! Who else could have captured so much of the Captain's attention, made him request good treatment for her?' And the bounty. The bounty! Rhorie couldn't even imagine how much that might be, from the King himself! She glanced around her, taking in similar expressions of awe.
"We should be reaching Helsink bay around the morning after next.'' said the Captain, glancing at the Cutlass' Navigator to confirm his estimate. Rhorie felt incredibly excited again. Pirate life was interesting and she enjoyed it greatly, but this was something else. The Princess as prisoner, and a bounty from the King... these were not average pickings. The Princess must have ran away, and abruptly Rhorie felt a small pang of pity, but dismissed it. It wasn't as if the girl would be treated badly on her return, she was the Royal Princess after all.
"A trip on land to deliver our precious treasure will be in order. This brings me to why you are all here. I need the strongest, most intelligent and above all else, most trust worthy members with me. I need all of you to accompany me onshore when we dock at Helsink''
Rhorie raised her eyebrows at that. Strong? Intelligent? Trustworthy? She may consider herself to possess some or all of those qualities, but for the Captain to... this was high praise indeed. And an adventure too! Already Rhorie couldn't wait, and she sensed the same restless excitement in her fellow 'strong', 'intelligent' and/or 'trustworthy' crewmates. Suddenly there was another hush, more influencial than the first, though this time no one had been speaking. But the room quietened suddenly all the same.
"All of you." The Captain said, reinforcing the selected crew members' assumptions. The the Captain took a deep breath, and Rhorie saw his throat working. "And as such, the bounty will be split evenly."
Rhorie had known the bounty was to be mentioned again... but at this scale! Split evenly! She grinned at Jawbone beside her, shaking her head in near disbelief. The sum of gold that would come her way if this Royal deal was successful... it would be something she had never witnessed before. And that made her almost as excited as the potential adventure. She was now thrumming like a bowspring, on edge with the sheer anticipation of it all.
Then suddenly she whipped round, her trusty cutlass flying from its sheath and into her steady hand as a massive crash was head - the door to the Captain's quarters slamming back against the wall as one of the Watch staggered in. Rhorie's eyes widened as she observed the jagged cut that had almost severed his head from his shoulders. His stained hands groped desperately at the terrible wound, but an enemies knife had already taken it's toll. The man did not speak, but his work was done, and he collapsed backwards and the force of the blood he was holding back forced his weakening hand away. A gurgling fountain of scarlet spouted from his body as he lay on his back outside the Captain's rooms. His lifeblood pooled around him as a break in the mist outside honoured Rhorie with a terrible view - a ship of enemy pirates, Northern by the looks of their distant ship-
"Alert the men! We are under attack!" The Captain bellowed as Rhorie rushed out onto the main deck. She heard his deep voice shout more, but she was into the fray, her cutlass blocking a Northern blade and pushing it back at its owner. She cared nothing for being speared like a fish now the anticipation of a great adventure was in her. She swirled somewhat gracefully, extending her arm and twisting her wrist, then bringing it back downward in a slashing cut. The oak-and-iron pommel - larger than average and measured exactly to fit snugly into a variety of soft places in a man's anatomy, mostly on the head - came crashing down at the back of the Northener's head, the shallow and reasonably blunt point of it fitting where skull met spine, something cracked, and then the pirate collapsed, his limbs no longer obeying him. It was a main tactic of Rhorie's, developed by an aversion to killing. She could kill, it had happened before, but she preferred not to. And this pain-stakingly made pommel that had taken her weeks to design and make - she thought as she whirled across the deck in her own distinctive way, Northerners dropping around her, some in spasms - was her own way of bringing that into battle. The pirates she downed would be at the least knocked out, but most would have a broken spine and be capable of nothing more deadly than speech - very useful when it came to capturing enemy prisoners for information, she grinned, marvelling at her own forethought - the pommel making another pirate collapse at her feet.
Suddenly a thought tickled the back of her mind. Bounty... King... Princess! By the Moon, the Princess cannot be harmed by these Northern bastards! Like the whirlpools sometimes glimpsed in distant waters but well avoided by the Navigator, she span on with the thought of protecting the Princess/bounty bundle in the cells of the ship. Absently her mind registered that the hull-fault still needed fixing. Then suddenly the carpenter part of her mind flooded into the swordswoman part and she missed a step in the dance that was her battle, her thoughts and moves jarring awkwardly as she suddenly had to swing her cutlass upward to block a hefty downward swing of an enemy. Luckily the Northerner was fairly scrawny and she blocked it, her back foot holding steady on the boarding of the deck. A quick wrist flick, accompanied by the push of her other hand on the back of the blade and the man's sword was sent wide, leaving him open for a running-through by a sword. A heart-kill.
Rhorie gave the man a last dignity: to look into her eyes and acknowledge that she was his killer. His murderer. Fortified by the knowledge that he would have done the same to her without such ceremony, time seemed to slow as she adjusted her stance and brought her sword around to point directly at him. Foolishly, the Northerner smirked arrogantly and as Rhorie pulled back her arm to deliver the stab, he began to move his arm to perform another heavy slash, opening his defence further. Rhorie mentally shook her head, despaired privately about the lack of talent in swordcraft of these pirates, then drove her arm forward, shifting her feet and hips so her entire weight was behind the blow. The sharp point punctured the man easily and Rhorie twisted her wrist just a little so the wound was wider. Then she felt the gristle as she mapped up the inner parts of the body in her head as the blade slid deeper. It had, due to its relatively slim form, sliced between his ribs, approximately the second and third, and penetrated his heart, then lung, then continued almost ruler-straight to leave his body through the same rib-gap at his back. Rhorie tried not to feel the wet puncture as his muscle and skin and clothes were pierced as well.
Then suddenly time returned to normal and the man let out a gurgling, groaning yell as he began to topple forward, then Rhorie pushed and a great thud sounded as her sword slid out of him and he collapsed backwards on the decking. Trying to forget the pressure changes her hand had felt as the blade of her cutlass had passed through the various viscous materials of the man's vital cavities, Rhorie pushed aside the whirling dance of swordplay and ran full pelt toward the door to the inner ship. Wrenching it open and sprinting down the labyrinth-like corridors of the deeper decks, Rhorie finally reached the cells and was surprised to find the Captain there. Taking up a defensive position beside him, her heart in her mouth, she nodded at him, the deja vu suddenly hitting her full force, reminding her of the last time she had nodded like that to him.
"Cap'n," she said softly, "Are these Northern rouges aware we have such... precious cargo aboard?" She noticed the Captain's thoughtful silence and, detecting no noise close by, used a cloth to wipe the blood and various innards on the blade of her cutlass, wrinkling her nose. She shone the blade in the torchlight to inspect for further mess or scratches on the blade or cracks in the pommel. She found none and, satisfied, took up her defensive position once more, finding herself hopeful that the Captain had acknowledged her obvious kill.