Pirates of the Sorcerean - what the night hides

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Mister Fabian opens his eyes suddenly and quickly remembers where he is, and why. He straightens his rumpled hair and clothes silently, all the while staring at Nimue. Even through the fatigue etched in his features, she can see anger in his clenched jaw, his compressed lips, his narrowed eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice is colder than she had ever heard before.

“Is this the kind of result I can expect the next time you give me your word?”

 

Nimue's expression is caught halfway between a glare and contrition. "I had to do it, Fabian...I HAD to, do you understand? I had a dream. You know my dreams...the only sort I ever have any more, although I'm sure that's not normal. If I didn't do this...if we don't get to Sorrow's Rock first...the world is in TROUBLE, do you understand? I did what I had to do." She starts crying, soundlessly. "It's not a nice kind of choice to make. But what's my life when thousands could die?"

 

"Have you learned nothing?" he snaps. "There are rules to magic, Nimue, and no matter how vast your talents may be, until you've mastered those rules you're not ready to take on such feats. Did you think that I forbade you on a whim?

"Whatever your Foresight called you to accomplish, do you still think there's only one path to a goal? And what's the point of taking a path that causes your own destruction - and more besides - but still doesn't reach the goal?" He nods at her shocked expression. "That's right - the storm was much worse than it would have been without your little stunt, and since I was here dragging you back to safety, I wasn't available to serve the ships. I expect to be answering to the Captain shortly, and I'm not looking forward to it."

He paces as best he can in the confining cabin, then turns to her. The anger is gone from his face, replaced by sadness and disappointment. "I want to help you develop your gifts, Nimue, if you'll let me, but I need to know that I can trust you in the future."

 

She is quiet. Eventually she sais, "I pushed us to Sorrow's Rock. The Waitoa is far behind and in bad condition." More silence. Then, "How can you? I don't even trust myself. I...just wanted to do something right. And in a sort of melodramatic way, I thought it was right. I'm just a drifter...no past...no future? I don't know, but it was what I was supposed to do...." She shakes her head, "I'm grateful, believe me...but I don't know why you ever wasted your time on me. I'm just a gutter-rat. I don't think I can be more...I'm not even trustworthy."

 

It was gone, she had survived, the ship had survived. The moon shone on the dark sky, and the gentle breeze of the passing wind felt like a soft tingling kiss on her lips as she took a deep breath. She fell to the wooden wet floor, soaked and drained of energy.

They're safe.. for now..

Sleep seemed oblivious and kind, instantly flooding into Tanya's awareness sending her far into the realm of her dreams.

 

Mister Fabian sits next to Nimue on the edge of her bunk and takes her hand, the first time he has ever made such a gesture. "Put your past behind you, Nimue, and allow yourself to create a different future. As long as you're willing to learn, I'll be here to teach."

 

Nimue sniffles, trying very much to hide it. "Th-thank you," she sais. "I guess I can give it a try."

 

Mister Fabian pats her hand again and stands up. "Compose yourself, my dear. It's time to see the aftermath of the storm." When he turns back to her, he is once again his usual perfectly-groomed self. He lets the wards fall with a wave, and they step out into the passageway.

 

Nimue straightens herself, wipes her eyes and casts a glamor. In a moment, her normal icy face is back, her red-rimmed eyes invisible except to another spellcaster. She stepps into the corridor after Fabian, trying to forget how to feel; Putting the past behind you, she thought, Is it really possible? But I meant what I said - I guess it's worth a try.

 

They step onto the deck and are met with a scene of less destruction than they had imagined, but there is still considerable damage to the two ships. Mister Fabian immediately sets to healing the injured pirates - a broken bone here, a blow to the head there - while Nimue helps to loosen the tangled lines and repair the tears in the sheets. He spares a glance into the aether aft, where St. John and the Navy should be, but feels no pursuit.

"LAND HO!"

The shout from the crow's nest draws the attention of everyone on deck. They run to the rail, where they can barely see a shadow of grey on the sparkling horizon.

Sorrow's Rock.

 

Nimue grins fiercely at the sight of Sorrow's Rock, not viewed from the top this time, though a dull grief still burns in the center of her chest. I did right, she thought, Didn't I?

She desperately wishes to jump offboard the ship, swimming through the cold water (her seasickness only applied to boats, particularly the small kind) or to lessen her weight so that she could actually run on the water, in light, bounding leaps.

But she had taken too much authority on herself already. Desperately, she restrains herself, though something within the Rock CALLS to her; a song that sings in her Blood. I brought this on myself, she thought darkly, and returned her attention to the lines, eyes and chest burning.

 

..am.. ma'am.. Ma'am!

Tanya could barely feel that someone was shaking her, but finally opened her eyes and looked into the concerned face of Archer.

"Wha.. why.. Archer?" she murmured as she tried to overcome her weariness.

"You're alive! Praise the gods! The rock, the treasure! It's there!" his hand flung out towards the sorrow's rock. "We did it, ma'am!"
Slowly leaning on her elbows, she looked around the ship. All of the crew stood at the rail pointing and cheering.
Can it be true.. ten years of search, and finally..

She had to see it for herself. She got up with the help of Archer and walked to the rail, looking over the sea and heart skipped a beat as her eyes fell upon it. The simplicity, the beauty.. sorrow's rock, the place of the hoard.
She looked around once more, and noticed the empty mast.
"Archer, why is there no lookout? I'm out for a brief moment and chaos arises on this ship? Rally the men, and I want Leonard to give me a damage report." he went about his business.

She shrugged off her tiredness, and noticed that the sun would rise soon. The sky was getting lighter.
"Back to post men! Keep up the watch! We've had a rough time, and now's not a time to slack on discipline!"

The men followed orders muttering under their breath. Obviously tired and low on morale after the violent storm.

Archer came back to Tanya, he looked uneasy.
"Speak up, Archer, what's wrong? Where's Leonard with that report?"

"He.. is no longer among, ma'am. He and gorgio where both lost during the storm, along with Matthew, John and Karl. We're short on crew, ma'am." He spoke with humble voice, afraid of her reaction to such a report. They had been travelling together for about three years, losing people was not a good thing in her book.

She gritted her teeth, and turned away from him facing the rock, and whispered in an icy voice, which Archer could hear, but knew was not aimed at him.
"'Twas sorcery in that storm, Archer. Purple lightning is not a normal thing. Someone, or something does not want us to find that thing... Someone will pay for what's happened here."
Narrowing her eyes, Archer started to feel rather uncomfortable.

"But we're here now, our search is over! We won!"
He tried to sound encouraging and changing the topic to the treasre, but her expression didn't change the least. Instead she turned to face him with a stare that could cut steel. He felt intimidated, she was intimidating!

Tanya tried to control her emotions, but her voice was filled with disgust.
"Did we? We've lost five good souls on this ship, who knows how many on the Pride? Do you consider that victory, Archer?"
With nothing further, she walked pass him, leaving him with ambivalent feelings. She had a way to make everything sound personal, but they had all known the risk of joining for this treasure hunt. Still..
He turned to look after her as she headed down to the cabins. She hadn't mentioned the treasure.. not once..

-------

Meanwhile on the burning ship of Waitoa..

Admiral William de Trinst inspected the ship, half the crew had been lost, the fires were being put out. He ran a hand through his grey hair and let out a deep breath.
Still sea-worthy... Praise the lord! Hopefully the rest should arrive soon, this is no good.

His voice rumbled across the deck of the Waitoa, "STEWARD!"
That should fetch that weasel...

Looking down himself, he dusted off his slightly burned uniform. Blasted storm.
He produced his spyglass and compass, noting the corners of the world he put the spyglass for his eye and searched the north-eastern sea for the remaining ships of the navy. A smirk crossed his lips.

The royal man-o-war flagship Isabella, the behemoth of the sea, was inbound a day or two, followed by a pair of galleons and wings of pirateers and warships. Ten.. twenty.. more behind, surely there would be enough spare crew and equipment to fix this sad mess of a ship once on the Sorrow's Rock.

He put the spyglass in his pocket, and looked for St. John, he should be here by now!

[ October 24, 2003, 19:34: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

When he hears the Admiral bellow, David St. John is glad to have an excuse to leave the repair crew he was working with. His was magic for officers: spying on the crew, playing one lieutenant against another, knowing which way the winds would break. He was at something of a loss when called upon to actually aid the sailors, but it was part of a Steward's job and he at least had to look good in the attempt. But now he straightens and departs with a hearty "Carry on, men," not realizing that they're equally relieved to see him gone as he is to go.

Above, he hurries over to the Admiral, stepping across the charred remains of his former shipmates without a second glance. The skies are clear and there's no sign of the sorcerous storm that had assailed them, nor of the two mages behind it. Two, for certain, and the one with the purple aura must be the master. To give one's very being to such a storm would take great power, indeed. St. John dampens a flash of jealousy as he reaches the Admiral. "You called, William?"

 

"You might be a very important character right now, John, but you'll keep to the formalities. It's Admiral or Sir" he started out bluntly, before giving him a short smile.

He made a gesture, as if waving the issue away as not being important, and then nodded at the deck.
"How much of the ship can you repair with your magic? We're in a pretty bad fix, we wont sail very fast now, and Sorrow's Rock is yet some distance away. And then there's another matter which require your.. extraordinary abilities.

he coughed a little, and gave John a testing look. It was the look not to be trifled with that all of the crew knew by now. A sign that William wanted the truth with no form of covering anything up, be it for good or bad.
"So what's of this storm? Only once I tried worse! Once! And I've seen many a cruel storm, but this.. this was no ordinary thing, purple?"
he made a questioning frown at John before continueing.
"What's this to you as a steward?"

 

Doing his best to mask his sortcoming, St. John decides to answer the second question first. "There was definitely an entity behind that storm, and it was moving against us deliberately. Perhaps a guardian spirit at Sorrow's Rock, trying to keep us away? It wasn't any Steward-magic that I ever learned... But whatever was behind that storm, it was clearly separate from the mage who raised the fog we saw first. That was a Steward on a pirate-ship, clear as a bell. Should we meet again, the battle will be quick." Bravado never hurts when speaking with officers.

"As for the repairs, there's only so much that magic can do. I can't make boards and nails out of thin air. However, I will do what I can to keep the crew on task, and assist however I can until additional supplies arrive."

 

William nodded satisfied by the answers.
"Well I'm counting on you to do what you can, and if we are to fight pirates, well.."
he looks to the royal fleet in the horizon.
"It would be some dimwitted pirates indeed. Besides, we need all the men we have, too many have been lost already. Sorrow's Rock holds traps and secrets of the deadly sort, hopefully by cautious step we can avoid most of them. That'll be all, John, thank you."
But some we cannot.. damn the Queen and her lust for gold!

He looked around at the ship, pondering on how many more had to die. Then turned to face St. John, studying him.
As a trick of the morning rays of the sun, the face turned to be none other than the horrible steward from his youth! Llwellyn Perry in the flesh! William's face went instantly pale as if having seen a ghost.
He had been but a cabin boy then, sixteen years of age. But the hardy and already then legendary crew of Ruthbarb had taken him in. He had seen the the mastery of the sea, but also the horrors, deception and indecency of man.

William blinked, it was David St. John standing in front of him. But now that the memories returned, they were so similar. Sly, self-secure, seizing any possibility to put themselves ahead.
I have to keep an eye for this one.. or history could repeat itself. You were decieved Ruthbarb, by the power of greed..

William's eyes became distant and he went back into his memories that he had shut off for so long.

In the end, it had been Ruthbarb to kill Perry. A dagger in the back, fitting for the pirates they were. William remembered as were it yesterday, he had brought them the finest wine of the western shores, in the outcarved castle like structure of Sorrow's Rock. They had been arguing, as they always did after they stripped a bunch of dusty old tomes from a little nondescript schooner sailing with an old order of foreign monks towards the west. They were shouting as he neared them back in the stone corridor.
Perry's high-pitched voice, "I've nearly translated the texts, and with these we can summon a power greater than any to resist us! It is foolish not to!"

Then Ruthbarb, deep and rusty as a juggernaut, "No! Have you no sense of reality left! I've read your translations, this thing brings destruction in it's path. What good do have of a kingdom of corpses!"

Perry countered nearly before Ruthbarb could finish, "But we can control it! Make it do our bidding!"

He had entered the room, and the two instantly killed their conversation. Ruthbarb smiled at me, he was fond of me, thought I had potential and only needed to obtain the spirit of pirating. Perry's gaze had been murderous though, and William had swiftly put the wine on the table, and scurried out.

That night he had heard a shrill cry echoing in the rock. Quickly had he run down to see what was going on, who had been killed.
The long dark corridors were dimly lit by the near-dying torches, and when he came to the final doorway, he saw him.

Ruthbarb's wolfish grin met him, and he waved me over. He sat leaned over a man who he had killed with a pair of daggers thrown into his back. Turning him over, I saw the pale face of perry, lifeless eyes staring into the ceiling.
I could hear the rough whisper of Ruthbarb, as he encouraged me over again.
"You see lad.. finer steward exist not on the seas or land. But a steward is supposed to serve, not to rule. You heard us the other night, I know ye did, you're a smart lad. When a master of the magic ways says we, he means himself. I got here just in time, the fool didn't answer me summons."
Ruthbarb pointed at the table upon which lay 5 scrolls, and an open book, all scribbled with notes.
"He tried the summon the thing he did, tried to take control he did, but as long as I live Will, I'm the captain on this ship! And by thunder if someone's to replace me, I shall call him out by the ol' pirate ways! This snake cunning as he might be, was never worthy of such a chance."

I simply nodded, and felt my insides burning seeing the steward dead. Perry was a feared name upon any ship and in any port, and here he lay. Killed by a snake equally cunning.

"You see lad, I knows.." Ruthbarb tapped his forehead, "I'll never have the powers he did, but 'tis not always the powers that matter. It's understanding them. Now off with ye, I'm sure there'll be a lot of trouble over this."

I simply nodded, and ran. On my way down the corridors, I heard the arguments starting. I ran, and ran, found a boat and ran. This was my first understanding of the powers around me, Ruthbarb would hardly have been popular after, and me as his favored lad could easily become subject of "accidents" to hurt the old captain.


The admiral shook his head, and looked once more upon St. John. For some odd reason, he pitied this man. William reminded to keep Perry's work hidden from him, even though he was quite sure that every steward on the sea would stop at nothing to get their hands on the dead steward's writings.
He had never mentioned his ventures to anyone, not even to his daughter that had wanted to find the treasure above all else. Of course she had most of the time told him where she was going to search. Little did she know he let her seek her destinations since he knew she wouldn't get in trouble in that maze of terror. Thank gods she was safe at home, and not going to experience the coming hell.

"Mark my words John, many more will fall before the end of this.."

[ October 24, 2003, 21:40: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

While all those happened, George was laying in his cabin, thinking, about William and his task. He thought back to that day...
----
George knocked on the door, somewhat nervous. William de Trinst has wanted to see him, and so here he was.
"Come in." a deep voice said, and George pushed opened the door and went in. Willaim was looking out of the window and watching ships leave the port.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" George asked.
"Indeed." Willaim replied, not turning around. "As you know, I'll set sail for the treasure of the Ruthbarb very soon."
George nodded, then, remembering William's back is turned, said "Yes, sir."
"You may be wondering why I did not choose you as part of my crew to go with me."
"...yes, sir."
"Well, the truth is, my daughter Tanya..." William sighed and turned around. "My daughter Tanya will probably get herself into trouble. I'm worried about her..."
George suddenly knew where he was going with this.
"Tanya has not seen you before, has she?"
"No, sir."
"Good. I want you to keep an eye on her. Follow her everywhere, ensure that no harm comes to her."
"Yes, sir."
William nodded. "You may leave."
----
George sighed again and suddenly felt somewhat seasick. He jumped up from the bed and went above deck.

 

The water was so cold, Kassandra thought to herself as she tenaciously clung to the piece of wood that splintered off of the Waitoa. She was below deck when she heard the shouting and the boisterious clap of thunder and immediately sprung to action, eager to prove to the fools on the ship that she was more then just a serving wench.

Kassandra had spent much of her life sailing, her father was a proud captain of his own pirating vessel. When he died, she was sure that the title of captain would pass on to her, but that mutinous first mate had usurped what was rightfully hers, and it was only by her quick thinking that she was alive to this day.

Although her skills were many, there just wasn't a huge demand for a female pirate, so out of desperation, she accepted the lowly job of deckhand on the Waitoa, but even then, she wasn't even allowed to be up on deck. Instead, they made her a cook and serving girl, and she swore that if one more drunken male touched her body once more, she would kill everyone on board and use the ship for her own purposes.

But, all that had changed with the storm. Kassandra really thought that it was her time to shine, her time to show these men that they had a real priateer on their hands. Then, she would get out of that accursed kitchen forever.

Not that it mattered anymore though. She was still here, helplessly floating at sea because she was knocked overboard by a inexperienced, hysterical male. She would have laughed at this, if she wasn't experiencing it. She never would have thought that her fate would be decided if the crew of the Waitoa cared enough to even look for her.

She wrapped her arms around the jagged piece of wood even tighter, hoping that her luck wouldn't run out. The last thing she needed was a shark or two looking for a snack. But, she had to stay alive, she couldn't die now! There was still so much to do! Kassandra had to prove to them that she was capable of being as great of a captain as her father was!

But, none of that was important now. She just had to stay alive, and fight off the numbing effect of the freezing water.

"They will come," she whispered hoarsely as she scanned the water surface for any sign of a nearing ship. "They'll come for me."

 

Tanner scanned the horizon with his spyglass, searching for some sign of the pirate ship. There was, of course, nothing but the glare of the rising sun reflected off the water.
He turned, and stared out at an angle just behind the ship. His keen eyes blinked, and he thought he saw something floating almost out of view. Frowning he bought his spyglass up and peered through it, supposing it to be a piece of debris. He flinched when he saw the unmistakable figure of a person lying across it, though at this distance he couldn't make out any details.
"Ahoy!" he yelled down to the people below him. "There be someone out there! Turn the boat around!"
"Hah!" laughed the man below. "There ain't no way we'll be turnin' this think about. Whoever be out there, they're lost at sea."
Tanner peered through the spyglasss again, and let reality sink in. Human life simply wasn't as important as treasure.

 

Kassandra shivered uncontrollably as she tried to stave off unconsciousness. The water wasn't getting any warmer, but she knew that her body was trying to gather what little warmth that it could. Still, she couldn't survive for very much longer.

As the day rolled on endlessly, seconds became hours. Each shallow breath that she took only seemed to sharpen the pain in her belly from the cold. Her arms and legs had gone numb a long time ago, but she had to keep moving, she had to.

She tiredly gazed out upon the endless horizon of the sea and her reality had sunk in. They didn't care about her, and they weren't coming. Kassandra let out a wail of hopelessness as she felt her body sag just a little more into the water and she knew that her grip on the only thing keeping her alive was loosening.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to be," she said to herself. "I wasn't supposed to die like this. This isn't supposed to happen!!"

Kassandra let out a ragged sigh as she laid her head down on the piece of swollen wood. She was so tired, tired of trying to be something that no one else would let her be. Maybe...maybe all of this was for the best. If the world didn't need her, then why should she be?