7th Sea: Changing Tides IC (Closed)

[Armphid]

A splintery crunch caught his ears as the man he recognized from the tavern earlier pinned two dead Inquisitors to the dock. Well, at least he wouldn't have to take the dock AND a ship all by himself.

The Montaigne, for his accent clearly marked him as he called out to the...captain's daughter? Richter caught sight of the Castillian beauty in the fluffy and fluttery blue dress rushing towards the dock herself, bearing a flaming brand in one hand. Strange allies this day, but he wouldn't begrudge one of them. But the Montaigne was bee lining for one of the ships; a sleek, black vessel that was in the process of being boarded.

He checked back to see Luciana and Diana almost on the dock as well and for a moment regretted the brutality of his fighting. The poor girl should not have to see such carnage after her terrible treatment.

There was still one Inquisitor standing at the foot of the dock however, one of their officers, he judged. And he would not allow the man to continue breathing within even ten feet of the women under his protection.

The officer spun towards Richter, his feet moving apart and the man's own sword jumping free of it's sheath. All too late. The Eisen Swordsman ducked down and came in low, sweeping up with his broad bladed sword. It caught the henchman where his left left joined his body and sank in deeply, the man shrieking.

Richter twisted the blade to push the bloody flat under the man's crotch and continued the upward swing, heaving the wicked priest up into the air and off the dock to splash down into bloodied water. Alive or dead, he did not care. He was out of the way.

The warrior knelt and wiped his blade on a body before sticking it back in its sheath. He picked up a musket from a fallen Inquisitor in either hand and rose, gesturing for the two Vodacce beauties to follow. {Vodacce} "The way is clear, and I believe we will have a ship shortly."

He waited for them to reach the dock and then jogged ahead, keeping pace with Luciana and her still horror struck sister.

 

[HookerBoots]

{Castille} "Anything my patron wants," Simona said wryly, yanking the blades out of the dead men and tucking them into the belt at her waist. It would ruin the dress, but with some careful work, she might be able to hide it later. Not that the state of the blue dress was foremost on her mind. The sheer amount of carnage her new friend and the Eisen had wrought on the docks was staggering. Gratifying.

Her feet flew across the stones of the docks, heading for the black ship that bore the name Black Threnody. He'd said the name, and seemed to be pointing himself in that direction, so she had to assume it was his. As she passed him, Simona grinned and called over her shoulder, "I've your knives tucked in my belt, grab them when you get a moment."

And then she was past him, sprinting up the gangplank onto the ship. She froze at the top, her eyes wide. There were men in the red and gold of the Inquisition on the ship already, a half dozen of them. There was a moment of pure shock and horror, fear trying to curl around her spine and make her movements sluggish. But then a wild light joined the flames in her eyes and Simona shifted, dropping her bundle of clothing to the deck.

She stepped aside - her Montaigne friend was on his way here, thank the Light, and she didn't want to be in his way when he got there. But, since the churchmen were currently dazzled and horrified by the burning blade in her hands and what it meant, she bowed mockingly at them. "Buenos dias, senors. Have you come to watch me dance?"

 

[Kinkerhell]

As Simona bursts onto the deck of Francois' ship, she can see two dozen inquisitorial troops locked in combat with the ship's crew. Blood runs thickly on the deck and pools in the low places in the wood, seeming almost black against the ship's dark timbers. Another three squads of men, some eighteen soldiers in all, are holding back from the fray. Standing behind them are three men, two in the uniforms of Lieutenants in the Castillian navy, and one in the uniform of a Commander. All three are wearing the gold Thean Cross on their left sleeve that identifies them as members of the inquisition. The Commander is shouting orders, brandishing a pistol in one hand and a rapier in the other.

As Simona bursts onto the deck, all twenty-one unengaged men turn and as one, their mouths drop open. They raise swords and pistols but do not advance on the Castillian woman. In the fading light, the awful, burning blade in her hand paints her soft caramel skin and shiny black hair with dancing, flickering interplays of light and shadow.

"Buenos Dias, senors, have you come to watch me dance?" she asks mockingly, and the men fall back a step. The commander, made of sterner stuff, snarls at her and shouts, {Castillian} "Don't just stand there, somebody get her!"

No one seems willing to advance on Simona, but one squad of men level their pistols fearfully. Their hands are shaking, and when Simona turns her head to regard them, they flinch. They fire a ragged, badly aimed volley, and Simona drifts slightly to one side, like a stalk of wheat in a Castillian wind. When the smoke clears, she is untouched.

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois threw out his left leg and rocketed up the gang plank just shy of a barrage of musket and pistol balls. He looked at the flame witch and smiled that it looked as though she was unharmed. Barreling up, He took a quick leap onto the railing around the ship before making a second grunted leap to land back on the deck, charging towards the mass of soldiers. This violation would be avenged.

 

[Kinkerhell]

As Francois joins Simona on the deck, the next squad goes into action, drawing swords and rushing the rakish captain. Sadly for the unfortunate soldiers, they underestimate the speed of the experienced knife-fighter and with blades and smile flashing, he twists around what swords he can, and parries the ones he cannot.

Then, he is among them, and even Theus will not save them.

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Glorious Boucher Typhoon

Francois was not amused by the less than stellar attack by the soldiers, dancing among their blades and flashing steel, he was untouchable. He blinked and then flashed in response.

His right knife sliced up, cutting a ruby rent through the soldiers abdomen and into his chest. He brought his left hand up and behind him, knife in a reversed grip, forcing it in between the soldiers ribs and just shy of the sternum, piercing the mans very heart. He twisted his wrist, fingers never leaving the handle, caressing it like a long missed lover. He brought his right hard across his view and slammed the blade into the temple of the third mans skull. The soldier's eyes bulged with surprise and terror, far too late realizing that he was against a far superior opponent. The fourth soldier turned to run away as Francois tore the two knives free of his victims. He lunged forward and buried the two blades into the fleeing mans back, puncturing both of his lungs. He twisted his knives as he pulled them free. The second they were away from their most recent target the left knife licked a trail across a fifth soldiers neck. He rolled with the momentum of the swing and glided behind the sixth soldier in the group that had attacked him.
{Montaigne} "Worm."
He completed his turn and plunged the two knives into both sides of the mans neck. The only sound after that was the sixth man making a bloody hurking as the blades were withdrew. Francois pivoted on his heel and turned to face the rest of the invaders. The six men seemed to suddenly all realize they were dead, every one of them suddenly sloshing blood out of various wounds. Francois grinned menacingly {Castille} "Next?"

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana hesitated for only a moment as Richter, the Castillian, and Montaigne captain began heading for the ship. Still holding onto Diana's hand, feeling her sister trembling, Luciana wasn't sure if she could drag her sister into the fray. Then she looked around and saw more and more of the red and gold bastards pouring into the harbor area and she knew that she didn't have a choice. She tugged her sister's arm and Diana, with a faraway look in her eye, began to follow Luciana as the young Vodacce woman sprinted for the ship.

They were only seconds behind the others as they charged up the gangplank, hair flying. Luciana came to a dead stop as soon as she saw the forces arrayed against them and she whirled, putting her own body between her sister and the Castillians, holding her close as one group Castillians fired a poorly aimed salvo of pistol shots and another charged the captain, who made them pay for their impetuousness with their lives.

As the Montaigne pirate savaged the castillians, Luciana bit her lip. How could she fight? She couldn't let go of her sister, but she couldn't drag her through a battle, either. That would get them both killed. Then she felt a gentle pressure around her waist. Startled, she looked down to see Diana's arm encircling her lightly, holding her as though they were about to start a courtly dance. Luciana looked at her sister's face, but her sister was still miles away, lost in some world of her own making.

The next group of Castillians began coming toward the two Vodacce and Luciana had to think fast. Her brow furrowed, then she smiled as a plan came together. Dropping her sea bag, Luciana reached between her breasts and came up holding a long, ornately decorated dagger with a narrow, double-edged blade. Her free hand still held Diana's, and she stepped in close to her sister, smelling the sweat and blood of the younger girl mixed with cinnamon and sandalwood and a half-dozen other scents. Into her sister's ear, Luciana whispered, "Dance with me."

Diana's lips quirked up into a small smile and she nodded langorously. Luciana began humming the tune of the Dance of The Spiders, an elaborate dance popular in Vodacce with several different sets of steps, and a lot of improvisation. One had to be a skilled dancer with a skilled partner to dance it properly. Luciana, however, was a trained dancer, and she'd made a fair dancer out of her sister in her free time as well. So as the Castillians came forward, Luciana took her sister and began to dance to the music.

Luciana led off, and the dance was on. The first man fell as Luciana turned a stabbing lunge into a dip, holding her sister just off the deck. The second died as Diana spun her, and Luciana's knife slashed across the man's throat as she whirled past. The third went down as Luciana used the upward sway of a waltz step to drive the dagger into his sternum. The fourth joined his fellows on the deck as Luciana reversed her grip on the blade and drove both hands backward into his waist, stamping out a fiery rhythm in the middle of the song.
The fifth died as Diana, still dancing away, stepped in and pressed against Luciana's body, bending her over backward. The thrust her arm abover her head, parallel to the deck, and knifed the man in the stomach, then wrapped both arms around her sister and whirled upright. Diana cast out one arm and Luciana twirled loose. At the far end of her spin, she let go of the knife, letting the momentum of the spin take the knife and fling it across the deck, over her sister's shoulder, to take the last man in the throat.

 

[HookerBoots]

{Castille} "You should really spend more time training with those," she taunted as the smoke cleared, "before you try to use them on a lady." And then all hell broke loose. The Montaigne captain is awash in flashing steel and golden tabards in a heartbeat of coming aboard, and just as quickly cuts them down, his knives flashing and leaving a trail of bleeding bodies as he passed.

The Vodacce girls - Luci, and a girl who looked enough like her to be her sister - climbed aboard as well, and then . . . began to dance. There was a moment of stunned staring on the faces of some of the Castillian men on this ship, and then they began to die. The knife in Luci's hand flickered as she and her sister spun and twirled in the intricate steps, and men fell and perished as they passed. Simona made a mental note not to ever upset the pretty little Vodacce girl, either of them.

But then her eyes turned on the three men standing, the Commander and his Lieutenants. The fire in her eyes was still shining brightly, and she paced slowly towards them. It was almost as if Luci had pulled their gazes to her, though one could never be sure with officers; they were trained to notice a full scene.

"Dios mio," she said, slipping between the sight of the two girls and the nearest Lieutenant, "and here I thought you'd come to see me." She pouted, slipping the sword between their bodies and slashing it. The cut wasn't bad, enough to slice through his uniform shirt and leave it singed, a bloody slash across his pectorals in the center.

As he looked down in surprise and relief that he hadn't been gutted like a fish, she pressed closer to him, the blade held to one side, and whispered, just for him, "I hate being disappointed like that." There was a boom as the pistol she had in her other hand fired, directly over the wound in his chest, piercing his heart.

The man fell like a puppet with cut strings, a hole blasted through his chest. The Commander looked over as he fell, seeing her holster the now-empty gun and the blood splattered over her chest. She grinned at him, as feral an expression as any, and stepped back, arms spread and head inclined, inviting him to the dance.

 

[Armphid]

Richter paused as his foot hit the bottom of the gangplank. All of them were coming up that way which meant one tactical position and a place where the enemy could concentrate their fire. As if to punctuate his thoughts, a wild barrage of firing came from above, followed by the silken smooth taunting of the Castillian girl.

Brave to tease gun-wielding men with just a burning piece of wood.

Luciana and Diana started up and Richter's frown deepened. He needed to give the enemy somewhere else to look. A new front.

His keen eyes found the supplies at the end of the dock where the black pirate ship had been re-stocking. "Sehr gut," he murmured. The tall Eisen ran to the towering and well anchored block and tackle that held the pallet for the loading. He set one of the muskets he'd taken down and readied the other, then lifted his leg and kicked out the pin that held the rope and block in place.

Richter shot up as it fired from a cannon. He cleared the rail by a good five feet and landed a good thirty feet down from the gangplank's position; he landed hard and let the impact sink him into a crouch, already aiming his purloined weapon.

There were few targets in red and gold to choose from now. The captain's daughter was before the most dangerous; a lieutenant and a commander if he read their ranks right. If he fired at the commander, he risked a good chance of taking the Castillian beauty's head off too. So...

The remaining lieutenant snarled as he raised his pistol right at the girl's face, "Legion's whore! How dare y-" His words were cut off as Richter's musket fired and death flew across the deck. The Castillian's body bent in the middle as it he were punched by an invisible giant's fist and his chest seemed to collapse before he flew backwards like a kite in a gale with a snapped string. He sailed over the railing on the far side and was lost to darkness.

The once brave men in red and gold gaped at the spot where he had been. It had all happened in a second. One moment their lieutenant was there, and the next he was gone as if by magic.

{Castillian} "Yes, it is always so inconvenient for you Church men when your victims can fight back." Richter dropped the musket as he stood and pulled his thick bladed broad sword free of its sheath, {Vodacce} "My apologies, Luciana. It may take a few more minutes to negotiate our passage."

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

The Commander, seemingly undismayed by the loss of his men, sneered at the ragtag group confronting him. "What's this?" he asked, his tone pompous. "A group of upstart pirates, intent on saving their miserable hive of sin from the righteous fury of the LORD?" The officer drew himself up to his full height, and Luciana's eyes narrowed. Quietly, slowly, her hand started moving to her skirt, slowly lifting the hem.

The Commander noticed the movement, and his hands formed the sign of the cross at the pretty Vodacce. "Harlot!" He cried. "Do not think to tempt me, you painted whore! I am wise to your ways, you and your whole wicked nation!" His sneer turned sly and his tone changed to something more smug. "The LORD will always prevail. Just look at the little slut behind you." Diana whimpered, and Luciana gripped her hand more tightly. Her face was contorted in a mask of rage.

{Castillian} "How dare you talk about my sister, you miserable cross-polishing, ass-kissing bastard!" Luciana exploded. "How could you defile her like this?!" The Commander just looked even more self-satisfied, gloating now.

"Oh, your sister. How sad. Perhaps if she didn't have a filthy whore for an older sister, she could have been redeemed. As it is, I did nothing wrong, nor did my men. I simply had those already in port seek her out and show her the price of sin." He smiled. "I hear that her screams were quite shocking, you know, even when her mouth was full. After I kill you, maybe I'll give her back to the me-" His speech was suddenly cut off as Luciana lifted her skirt far enough to expose the sheath on her thigh.

The dagger within is exquisite, fine and balanced, a masterpiece from her home nation. While the blade is sharp and the steel fine, the weapons strength comes from the Sorte working laid upon it at its forging. The strands themselves would conspire to make it strike true, and Luciana drew upon its full power all at once. In a single, liquid motion, she drew the dagger, flipping it upward in a shining arc, the blade glinting in the light of torches and fires. Luciana drew her hand back as if to throw something, and the blade dropped between her fingertips. Her arm catapulted forward and she sped the blade on its way with a scream.

The blade, moving far faster than any knife had any right to, shot across the deck at the commander, who didn't even have the time to do more than look surprised. The long, heavy blade took him in the eye with a wet *squelch* as the last five inches of blade were buried in his skull. Bonelessly, he dropped to the deck like a discarded puppet. His brain, not knowing yet that it was dead, tried to casue him to move and the body flopped violently once, twice, then lay still.

But Luciana didn't see any of this. Her knife thrown, she was only concerned with her sister, and had turned to take the girl in her arms. Diana was weeping openly and murmuring {Vodacce} "Nopleasenodon'twantogodon'tletthemtakemeplease..." over and over again in a whispering, rapid cadence, and her arms were wrapped so tightly around Luciana that it was hard for her to breathe properly. She didn't say anything or even try to adjust, though, instead simply guiding Diana down to the bloody black wood of the deck and rocking her back and forth, cooing.

 

[Armphid]

One problem solved.

Richter strode over to where the Commander lay wriggling on the deck, sheathing his sword as he did so. He bent over and with a quick jerk pulled the magnificent blade from the man's skull. He wiped it carefully on the Inquisition uniform, his blood and brains wiped off and marring the elegant simplicity of the Prophet's Cross on the chest. "You were right," he said to the corpse in his own native tongue, "the Lord has triumphed and sin had been payed."

He rose and walked over to Luciana and her sister, not getting close. He had seen victims of rape back home. Instead he knelt down and set the weapon within arm's reach of the older Vodacce woman. {Vodacce} "Luciana, I would urge you to move her below when she is ready. I will make arrangements for the safe removal of you both to wherever you wish to go."

The cannons of the Inquisition ship thundered again and Richter took a deep breath. The next problem. He lowered his face to the deck. A heavily armed ship manned by at least a hundred sailors and who knew how many more Inquisition marines. His assets were few. He could not ask this ship to fight, and would not insult the Captain to order him to do. But it and its resources, and those here, were all that he had. He also didn't know how well it was provisioned, giving that it had been being resupplied.

Resupplied...

The tall Eisen rose and turned to face the dazzling Montaigne knife fighter, {Montaigne} "Captain, I am charged to see these women to safety, and I would like to do so with your vessel. I will, of course, pay for their escort." He then pointed beyond the rail to the gold and white decorated Castillian ship, "But I find that I have business with that ship and its' master that cannot wait."

For one thing, the starboard side cannons could fire at any ship that attempted to leave which would place Luciana and Diana in considerable jeopardy. "I am about to go and take my business to them, but I would ask that you give these women sanctuary for now. And, if you are amenable to aid me, I would ask for two bags of flour if you have them. More may help, but I think it will have to be two." He wasn't sure he could carry more than that and fight if he had to. "The boat these vermin used to board your ship is yours by right, but I would ask to borrow it for this task."

The Swordsman looked over at the captain's daughter and her flaming sword. Theus be praised. A flaming sword. Sorcery. He had never witnessed it in person before. He had a dozen questions that sprang to his mind, but he shook them off. The battle is not yet over; win first, seek later.

She'd spoken Castillian. {Castillian} "Lady, if you are willing, and if you can start fires and stop them, I would ask you to accompany me. I go to silence those guns and bring these dogs to heel."

He waited for their answers and prayed in his mind. If they refused, it would be harder. But he would take that ship.

 

[HookerBoots]

Simona bowed slightly to the tall Eisen man. He had a good aim, and a soft spot for pretty girls, it seemed. That was all to the good. {Castille} "I am capable of starting fires, señor, and finishing what I begin." She glanced at the Montaigne, and then looked back at the tall blond man. "I owe the captain a life debt, for offering to bring me with him, but I believe I owe you a more immediate one for saving my skin a moment ago."

She nodded once, sharply. "I will go with you, and gladly, to end this blight on the water. My fire is at your command, until such time as that ship is taken or sunk."

The blade was a problem. She could keep it going, but it hurt to do it. There was no guarantee that she could restart it if need be. Best to leave it lit, then, and do what needed done, through the pain. "I am ready whenever you are, señor."

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois had a mad gleam in his eye as he heard the the blonde man's proposals. {Montaigne} "You are aware that just the two of you going is suicide, qui? That dreadnought would very likely have many more than you, even two such as yourselves, to handle." He tuned to look at the the ship out in the harbor. "I want that ship. or it will be on the sea floor."

He reached up and deftly tossed it towards the two Vodacce women. It is a surprisingly fine thing, darkly dyed felt with stitching in a silvery thread. {Vodacce} "Take it and give it to your sister, If you send her below, she should look for Monsieur Reynolds, He is, comment vous dites, easily recognizable. He has, different tastes; he will keep her safe. The hat should show the order comes from me personally, and it will let the others know she it under my protection."

He turned back to the giant, {Montaigne} "I feel that we could make an arrangement." The mad gleam shining brighter. "If only there was a way to get the Threnody out of her slip... it could make things so easy." He looked wistful for a moment.

 

[Armphid]

Richter nodded, {Montaigne} "That it could, Captain, but by the time we were out of slip, there would be nothing left of Bilgewater, and more importantly, of those who have not yet been able to leave it." He shook his head, "I do not think we can wait."

He gestured to the bodies, "You are also right that two, or even three of us going over would be suicide. If we went as ourselves. But if we were victorious Inquisitors, wearing the red and gold, splashed with the blood of heritics and bearing a sorcerous captive, we would be welcomed with open arms."

The big Eisen looked at the stylish captain and the devastatingly gorgeous sorceress. "It will be dangerous, but any way we do this is dangerous. If this works, and we can hold the deception long enough to reach the gunnery quarters, we can silence the guns and start our fight from within the ship and with surprise on our side. This would also buy time for the other ships at dock and anyone left in town to come to our aid and join in the fight."

Richter strode over to the bodies of one of the groups on Inquisitors and began to pull the billowing robes and cloaks from the corpses. "If anyone has other suggestions, pray, make them. But I do not see an alternative that will not take too much time."

He looked up and smiled wryly, "It is a mad plan. But at this moment, mad is what we have to work with." Richter started to throw the garments he was carefully taking from the rapidly cooling corpses in a pile, "Are you with me?"

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois shook his head. {Montaigne} "That plan, I see flaws, Because I'm very sure my own features speak to a very strong background of my motherland, and are not you a little tall to be a storm trooper? The only one among us that has the features to easily pass, is well, Cheri, here." He walked over to the door, opened it and shouted down {Montaigne} "Hoy, Lads, Hoist the Colors!"

He turned back to the blonde man, "You'll have your flour. Though I do not see how you will be safeguarding those two," he gestured towards Luciana and Diana. "If you're willing to go to your death. They will be safe here, as safe as the ship will allow." Francois sighed. "You may take the dingy too."

He was happy that the Threnody didn't look nearly as armed as she was. The shelling was still focused on Bilgewater proper, and the more armed ships. They would hopefully have the moments needed to find a way to get underway, even if it meant getting out and pushing for a bit. It dawned on him, The giant was right, but he didn't need to go to his death. {Montaigne} "Boys, hoist Castillian! And get on their outfits, a few of you, quick, strip some of the dock corpses!" He turned to Richter, "They clearly wanted either my ship or something on it, or both. You're right that we can deceive them at a distance, But the moment you start to do anything to the cannon you're going to give yourself away. He started to pull the Commanders uniform off, looking disgusted at the blood soaked uniform. "Monsieur, My ship is more than she appears, and hopefully we can bring her to bear. Otherwise, as I said, you have the flour and the boat." He put on a disgusted grimace and pulled it on.

Francois looked around the deck, sighed, closed his eyes and grinned, "We must pray for our sins. On second thought, Theus' often busy."

 

[HookerBoots]

Simona made a hissing sound between her teeth, letting the flame on her blade go out, leaving only a trail of smoke from the tip of the sword as the fire vanished from her eyes. {Montaigne} "The plan is bold, but I am willing. Bear in mind that I cannot," she said, a little awkward and somehow ashamed for a moment, "make the spark of fire." She tucked the sword away and smiled a little wryly, "Well, I can with flint and steel, the same as you can, but not from nothing."

Her eyes traveled over the two Vodacce girls, the younger one still whimpering and crying as her sister held her. That was what the Inquisition brought; not the word of the Prophets, but the misery and destruction of men. Her heart ached, wishing that when she'd been in that state she'd had someone like a sister to turn to, to avenge her; anything but the cold dungeon and the chains that bound her.

But she looked at them, then at Inquisition ship as its cannons fired again on Bilgewater, leaving devastation in its wake. Her face firmed into an expression of steely determination, and she tucked her hands behind her back. "Bind me however you wish, gentlemen, but I will be your captive. And we shall bring them low, or perish in the trying."

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana eyes the small Castillian woman critically, one arm still around her sister. She murmured into her sister's hair for a moment, then waved the Castillian over. {Castillian} "You don't look like a captive, senorita. Sit down for a moment, and I'll see what my bag of tricks has for you."

As Simona sat down, Luciana began rummaging around in her sea bag with her free hand, then crowed as she found what she was looking for, a small leather bag full of tiny pots and palettes, brushes and pencils, kohl sticks, and the rest of the things a Jenny used to make herself more appealing. She set a half dozen of the pots down and deftly uncapped them, then set to work on Simona's face and arms with her brush, forming bruises and abrasions where there were non, including one in the shape of a handprint, around the woman's left wrist. The whole process only took a couple of minutes.

Satisfied, Luciana leaned back and looked Simon up and down, then nodded once. Looking around, she found the nearest runnel of blood, then dipped her hand in it and daubed some if it on her face and neck. "Sorry, dear, but if you want to survive, the illusion has to be perfect." She drew a dagger and slashed the Castillian's clothes in a few places. "I'll pay to have it re-sewn." she added.

Looking over her handiwork, Luciana said, "Perfect. Now you look like Inquisitorial brutes have worked you over. If you can manage a few tears, it would be even better. Here, since you can't take a sword." Luciana extended a hand, her ornate, deadly dagger resting across her palm. "It should serve, and if you have to leave it behind..." she shrugged. "Its only a weapon."

 

[Armphid]

Richter had pulled on the biggest of the cloaks and robes he could find, and it was still short on him. He sighed, but it really couldn't be helped. He shook his head and pulled something from the belt of the man he'd stripped and held it up, the item looking immediately only like a ball of fabric {Montaigne} "Your features do mark you, monsieur, but you forget that Inquisitors," he opened his grip and let the object unroll to reveal the infamous Prophet's Cross sack-like mask of the Inquisition, "wear masks most of the time. It will not make our disguise impenetrable, but as good as can be hoped."

Luciana was working with the Castillian girl and in short order had her looking thoroughly beaten and abused. In the meantime, Richter had the dinghy they'd used to come over brought to the ship's side and gone into it to make ready. While there before the others clambered down, he took a deep breath and did something that would surprise many who knew him.

He prayed.

Then he pulled the mask of the Inquisition on over his features. And as Simona was lowered down to him, loosely but convincingly tied in rope and with the Vodacce girl's knife and her own pistol hidden on her person, the dinghy slipped away. One of the Montaigne's crewman, a particularly swarthy Castillian had donned a robe as well and manned the small craft as they darted across the waves towards the Inquisition's blasting guns.

The dingy pulled up alongside and a hawk nosed Castillian called down to them, {Castillian} "Brother, what are you doing back so soon? The battle rages on!"

Richter had to fight a moment not to shoot the man dead right there. {Castillian} "I have found something terrible, Brother, that could not wait! A find above and beyond our holy mission!" He threw a dirty tarp aside and revealed Simona's apparently battered form. "Sorcery, Brother! I myself saw her light a sword aflame before we took her!"

The man gasped and then crowed, "Well done, Brother! A fine prize to take back." He nodded, "Take her below. ...And make sure you show her the wages of sin, eh, Brother? A reward for doing Theus' work."

Richter bared his teeth behind the mask and made a mental note to kill this man himself, if he had the chance, upon their escape or discovery. But he forced himself to laugh as the man went back to bellowing orders. Richter hefted the girl and the sacks of flour and clambered aboard the enemy vessel.

The controlled chaos of a shipboard battle was like and yet unlike that which he had experienced on land. There was as much madness, as much wild uncertainty, as much barely held control, all packed into a much, much smaller space. All of which worked for them; had they tried this when the ship was not engaged, it never would have worked. But now, every man on the crew was too busy to pay much notice.

He roughly pushed Simona ahead of him, snarling and cursing her in his best Castillian. Her performance was commendable, and with Luciana's make-up, she looked exactly as the men who saw her would expect.

God in heaven, it might actually work.

They pushed below decks, Richter thrusting men aside with no concern, though he nodded and issued apologies from behind the mask of the Church's murderers. Once they got below, it was easy to find their destination. The ship had beat to quarters and much of the inner space had been broken down and cleared to give room for guns and men.

Down they went until the roar of the guns and unbelievable and the shock of them rattled the floor under their feet. "Right below us," he murmured. Richter reached up and pulled the mask off. He would be seen and noted, but he needed his sight clear to see for his throw. His sword came free and he cut the robe and cloak off and let them flutter to the floor; they were too small and bound him, and he would need his arms to move with all their grace and power.

"Let us pay then, senorita," the big man said with a smile to the gorgeous sorceress. He counted, waiting until the cannons were about to fire...and as they did, he sprang down, ignoring shouts of alarm and heaved his harmless seeming missiles with all his might.

The cheap bags burst on impact with the beams of the upper deck and flour exploded out of them just as the cannons roared and their blast created a massive draft, blowing and dragging the swirling particles the length of the deck, for a moment blanketing all the men and guns in a choking, fine cloud of white dust. "Take your last day's bread, swine!"

 

[HookerBoots]

The trek down to the gunnery was filled to the brim with fear and nerves, at least for Simona. The whole time, she was sure the whole scheme would fall apart on them, someone would notice something amiss.

When it worked, she had to admit to herself that she was surprised.

But she quickly loosed the ropes around herself, and followed the bold, possibly crazy Eisen down below. The air thundered and the air was filled with the smell of powder and the fine, white dust that had been released from the bags of flour. In a flash, Simona turned towards the nearest cannon, pulling the pistol from its hiding place and firing it at the metal barrel of the cannon. It was a near thing, the bullet almost missing but just hitting the top of the iron barrel.

The spark was impressive, and exactly what she needed. Drawing on her power, she made sure the fire kept going as the flour in the air and on the cannons exploded. Her intervention turned the blast from a simple explosion to an inferno. In a few moments, the blaze had reached the the stores of gunpowder, and while the men were busy running and screaming, trying to save themselves, they ignored the bigger risk.

Another, bigger, explosion wracked the ship, throwing Simona and her Eisen friend against a wall. {Montaigne} "We need to move, senor, now!" she called to him, her fingers tightening around her pistol, useless as it was now. "This is the sign to leave the downstairs!" She grabbed his hand with her free one and headed for the stairs that lead above-decks - going overboard with all the iron he was wearing didn't seem a terribly good idea. Almost certain death over certain death any day, she thought, as they topped the ladder to the main deck and froze, looking at the chaos up there.

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois turned from overseeing the men quickly hauling the rest of the supplies onto the Threnody. He heard an explosion from the ship in the harbor. {Eisen} "Good Theus! Why are you blowing up my future ship! Damn it!" He shouted, looking quite dismayed. He spent a moment longer shouting futile orders to the Eisen and Castillian. He sighed because it meant that at least the cannons would be silent and he'd salvage what he could.

After he'd winded himself he took a moment, turned and walked to the elder Vodacce.{Vodacce} "Miel, Might I have a word? I'd like to know who it is I just agreed to keep an eye on, Tell me a bit while we have a moment." He flashed her a roguish smile. "Oh, please forgive me, I am Captain Francois Du Paix, and this," He ran his hand along the railing, "Is the Black Threnody, my partner in crime, comme il était. The Bo'sun is Monsieur Jergen," He gestured to the large Vesten barking orders at the men. There are others among the crew, but you likely need not know them, except for perchance Monsieur Reynolds and Monsieur Fletcher."

 

[Kinkerhell]

The deck is like an agitated hornet's nest. Men in red and gold run everywhere trying in vain to save their ship. There are bucket brigades trying to put out secondary fires started during the first explosion. Others are kneeling over wounded men, trying to staunch the bleeding caused by flying splinters and daggers of wood. Everywhere there is screaming, confusion, and fear.

As Simona and Richter reach the deck, another explosion racks the ship. A large part of the forecastle is blown to flinders, sending flaming bits of wood and pieces of flying glass and iron scything across the deck, killing a half-dozen men and wounding several more. For a moment, it seems that the coast is clear for the Castillian sorceress and the Eisen mastermind. Then a shout goes up, and all eyes turn to the young Castillian lieutenant pointing at the two of them and shouting. Amidst the screaming and the destruction, he is almost incomprehensible, but the meaning is clear and several ratings turn and run towards the pair.

That's when the fires reach the powder stores of the great, overgunned ship, and all hell breaks loose. This blast is awful, final, and large. The entire after third of the ship explodes, from bilges to mizzenmast. Sawdust fills air, the golden wood dust strangely beautiful for the instant in which Richter and Simona can observe it.

Then the blastwave hits. Both the pretty Castillian and the powerfully built Eisen are hurled clean off the ship, and it feels as though they've hit by a door. Every inch of skin feels bruised and then they are flying, flying. Gravity reasserts itself with savage power, slamming them both to wave tops, which are turbulent, disturbed by the explosion. They are instantly soaked, pitched amongst wreckage that at least provides something floating to hold onto. Nearby, the stricken ship begins to sink, now roughly as buoyant as the average brick. If they don't get away soon, the riptide generated by the sinking wreck may drag them down with it.

 

[Armphid]

As the young Inquisitor pointed at them and screamed out in alarm, Richter's teeth were bared in a savage grin. The world seemed to slow as eyes and faces turned to them, disbelieving and furious. Blades began to slide free of sheathes and a wave of red and gold took a step towards them.

He was laughing, though it was likely that not even the girl by his side could hear it in the din. The Inquistors rushed towards them like a wave and then there was the sound of a hundred thunderclaps, and a thousand trees cracking, and ten thousand cannon firing all at once from behind them.

He could not see the damage, but he somehow felt it; a sudden absence of mass and structure. Gold flecks of burning wood danced through the air around them, falling among the two saboteurs and the raging Church men.

Glorious.

Then he was hit by a vast and shapeless thing and hurled like a rag doll from the ship's deck. Around him men flew broken through the air like the toys of a petulant child in a fit, and with them rope and wood, sail and barrels that spilled their contents as all were blown into the air like dust from a mantle.

The shock of the water almost blasted the air from his lungs; it was almost as though he crashed not into the sea but into a wooden door that had covered a well. The water felt stunningly cold, though he knew it was more his body's reaction to the stresses it was under than the temperature itself, and it clawed at him.

Richter's mighty limbs thrashed and kicked, trying to drive him to the surface. But he could make no headway, his heavy sword and panzerhand dragging him down as hard as he could propel himself up. He struggled harder, his heart pounding, his lungs starting to burn. The surface was close, he could almost break it, almost feel it. Just a few inches. But as good as a mile.

A hand suddenly plunged through the dark above and grabbed hold of his vest, pulling him up. With his own strength it was enough to get him to break the surface, his head going back and his lungs pulling in air in a gasping breath. The Castillian sorceress yanked him over to the broken spar she was clinging to, Richter wrapping the panzerhand clad arm over it. He breathed heavy for a few moments and then grinned at her, {Montaigne} "Merci, mademoiselle, I am further in your debt than before."

They turned their heads as one to see the burning remains of the ship sliding down, down, down. It was not all under yet but it would not be long. "We must get away or it will drag us under!" He turned and wrapped his other arm around the spar as well, "Kick as hard as you can! We'll not give them the satisfaction of dying with them!"

 

[HookerBoots]

Simona looked back at the sinking ship behind them, and it was as though her legs had a mind of their own. She was kicking, driving them towards the black ship that was safety, as hard as she could. {Montaigne} "That would be a very terrible thing, no? Ruin the whole story," she panted, her hair plastered to her face.

If they made it - they had better make it - the pistol wouldn't be useable for ages until it dried. That was unfortunate, but a casualty of life in a seaport; you never knew when you would wind up in the drink.

Thankfully, despite her companion's size, they seemed to be doing well against the pull of the ship. He was as strong as he looked, and all the better for it. The sword and panzerhand slowed them, and the weight was such that she wouldn't have been able to do it alone. But his powerful muscles drove them forward, and the black shipped loomed ever larger in their vision.

Behind them, she could hear the screams of the Inquisition men, burning or drowning. It wasn't very kind or noble of her, but she felt a fierce kind of satisfaction in it. These men had come expecting something very different than what they had gotten - no doubt a strange happening for Castillian Inquisitors.

 

[Armphid]

{Montaigne} "B-bein sur," he replied with as much of a laugh as he could give, "And such a pity to ruin the tale now." The two of them had made good progress away from the sinking Inquisition ship; still groaning and shuddering behind them, not yet given fully to Mother Ocean.

But his legs were starting to ache. He was strong and enduring, he could fight for hours, but this was very unlike fighting. "Mademoiselle," he gasped, "We should...should slow a bit now. I think we are out of danger for the present...but the Montaigne's ship is still at dock and I cannot tell how far it is to the vessel from here."

Distances were hard to judge in the water like this and there was no sign of the dinghy that had dropped them at the Inquisition's overgunned ship. Likely he had returned to the Black Threnody.

Richter slowed his kicking to about half speed and took a deep breath, making an effort to regulate his own breathing. In between gulps of air, he looked over at the girl. She was beautiful, and he was seeming perhaps more than he should with her dress wet and clinging to her. She was brave as well; dangerous.

He liked that. This girl and Luciana...what were the chances of meeting two such women in the same day?

"I...have forgotten...my manners in my haste," he managed. "In case, well...I am Richter Stroheim. And I...am pleased...to meet you."

 

[HookerBoots]

Simona smiled at him as well as she could.{Montaigne} "I am Simona de San Cristobal de Castillo," she managed in one breath, then went on with her paddling for a bit. "It is a pleasure . . . but, Richter Stroheim, you are perhaps . . . the maddest man I've met."

The ship was much closer now, and she waved an arm over her head, almost but not quite losing her grip on the bit of wood keeping them afloat. "Ahoy the ship!" A head poked over the railing, and she waved even more vigorously. "Tell the captain . . . the witch and the Eisen are back!" She paused for a second, then added, "And throw down a ladder!"

There was a startled exclamation from above, and the crewman who'd looked over vanished for a moment. In short order, a rope ladder came trailing down, the bottom of it almost to the water level. "Excellent," she said, looking at Richter. "Would you like to . . . go first, or shall I?"

He shook his head. "Ladies first," he managed, trying as best he could to make a proper gesture to the ladder. In reality, he wasn't terribly sure how well he'd make it, and didn't want her to see it and think he was weak.

Unaware of that, Simona made her way to the ladder bottom and gripped the lower rung, hoisting herself half out of the water. The dress was insanely heavy wet, and her arms and legs were tired as hell. She hovered there for a moment, half in and half out of the water, before she hooked one elbow over the rung and began to dig at her waist.

In a few moments, the underskirts of the dress, sodden with seawater, dropped down, and she sighed. {Castille} "Much better," she murmured as the white fabric float aimlessly away. Freed from most of the dead weight below her waist, she climbed up the ladder like a monkey, landing with an ungraceful thump on the deck. "I never thought I'd be so happy to be on a ship. Great Theus, it's so dry!"