Open Chronicles Any Port in a Storm

[Cassian Laroche]

And a port it had been.

Even as the rising sun crept up over the horizon and between the tattered curtain, Cassian knew it was going to be a bad day. A weary intake of breath filled the man's nostrils with the indiscretions of the previous evening. The sweet sickly scent of liquor mixing poorly with that of the muddied floor - undoubtedly covered in varying amounts of piss and shite. A quiet groan emanated from where he lay as Cassian attempted to piece together his memory through the pounding in his skull.

They'd been somewhere between Black Bay and Ryan's Bane, a small string of shallow islands before they reached what the Captain called "The Hole". It was less of a hole and more of a sea but Cass wasn't going to be the one to point that out. Their vessel was a small galley, long and narrow with a shallow draft. Two rows of oars on each side, a brass encased prow for ramming - by no measure was she a frail ship but built for squalls she wasn't. It had been at Captain Traeger's command they'd turned towards a small Hamlet on the Northern edge of "The Hole".

So small it was, it didn't even have a proper name - the alehouse did though. The Opal Oyster. The sign hanging out front was rotted, a large oyster shell tarred by black rot pinned to the board. "Not ideal but with the storm looming, can nary complain." Cassian remembered thinking upon first seeing it. It wasn't what he remembered that bothered him now, it's what he didn't. A blur. A few ales, a little bit of rum, and a local concoction of clear substance - that was what had done him in. Even now he felt the ache in his bones as he picked himself up from the wooden bed he realized he must have found the previous evening. It took everything within him not to contribute his stomach's contents to the mire of the floor as he sat up. Another groan, hands rising as he ground his thumbs against his temples. What he really wanted to do was slumber further, already though he could hear the movement of his shipmates outside. Sounds of gear shifting, canvas of tents rustling as men stumbled free of them. Other sounds carried across the barren crags of the small isle, those of recreation.

With a heavy sigh Cass looked to the floor beneath him. Reaching for his boots and slipping them on he fought tooth and nail against the thrumming in his head, the infirmity which gripped his innards. He'd had worse. It was time to get a move on - no doubt the Captain would be eager to set to course. Today they ate and slept in peace, tomorrow who could say?

-
​

The fresh air had done him good though the dull throbbing of his headache remained. A sausage of cured pork with a flagon of water to wash it down had seen his overall condition improve - he hadn't been the worst off of the crew. For an hour they'd taken to the water, the creak of the oars filling his ears as the drum beats below echoed softly through the wooden deck of The Shriek. That was her name, hull painted with a deep green. By all appearances it was just another galley, not uncommon in the shallow waters of the region. Cassian knew better. His eyes traced along the wooden planks to the bow, cleverly hidden mounts visible to the man's trained eye. Scorpions. Deadly contraptions capable of launching projectiles or even harpoons towards a target vessel. Cass for one was happy to be on this end, not the other. When the time was right, they'd mount them, strike their colors, and make pursuit - provided they came across a ship worth plundering. He expected the command any time now.

If by some ill fate the Captain was unable to find a worthy quarry, they would take it to the scattered villages across the archipelago - though it was a bit more dangerous. Assuming risks was inherent with Cass' chosen profession, but the risk on land was of being boxed in, surrounded, reinforced against. No such considerations at sea. Raising the glass to his eye he searched the horizon from his place near the stern. Water, water, and more water. They were in the middle of The Hole now, any merchant vessels would likely opt to pass through the center rather than risk running aground along the edges. At least, that seemed to be the hope. Below he could hear the steady drum cease, the sounds of the sea filling his ears as the oars came up and out of the water. Unsatisfied, he scanned once again from right to left Cass kept his eyes peeled for any hint of glint or sail on the horizon. Now they would wait.

 

[Cassian Laroche]

Over an hour had passed. Cassian's eye tired of the glass. The sun had risen high enough to begin drying any lingering moisture from the previous night's rain. "A blessing and a curse" he thought to himself as he wiped a slick of perspiration from his brow. Upon his ears, all around the sounds of a ship at rest. Creaking of wood, the splash of waves, even casual talk across the deck of the galley. Captain Traeger himself attended a looking glass near the prow of the ship. They weren't by any means poor off but it had begun to turn into a long stretch between their last prize and present, a few of the crew had begun to run up credit on board - a dangerous game for all involved. Absentmindedly Cassian felt the pouch at his belt, the reassuring texture of coins within the leather easing his worry at least a hair.

A shout from the stern drew Cassian from his thoughts.

"Sail on the horizon! North by Northeast!"
​

If anyone had been catching a catnap they wouldn't be now. The call was echoed, the sound of a high pitched whistle piercing the air. What had a moment before been a relatively calm ship jumped into action. In an instant the oars were deployed, shouts from below deck reaching Cassian's ears as he turned to face astern where the call had originated from. Extending his own eyeglass he tried to pick out the sail along the horizon - it only took him a few moments before he too saw it. Too far to discern whether it was another hunter like them or a trading ship. No use staring at it. Cassian moved to action, in a moment he'd tucked the glass back into his belt and fastened it there. Regardless of what the ship turned out they were prepared to turn to.

From below decks the hidden ballista were hoisted and mounted on the bow of the ship, two more at the rear. Above the din of the ship in preparation Captain Traeger's voice could be heard shouting orders at breakneck speed, the crew's feet matching pace as they scrambled to make ready. Cassian himself now moved, while no longer a mere deckhand he had yet to establish himself a title or role aboard the Shriek. If the vessel they'd spotted truly was a prize to be taken it would be a perfect opportunity to show his worth - maybe even gain a modicum of recognition from Captain Traeger. Leaning against the port gunwale as they began to bring the galley about, he watched the horizon with great interest.

 

[Sydney Harris]

Sydney Harris was aboard the ship on a mission: kill Captain Traege. Her employer paid her on the spot and said she'd pay her later extra for every crewmember the dancer did in. Sydney's plan was working she became friends with the Captain before this big trip, so much so infact he had invited her along with him and his crew. Sydney had came close to killing the captain in his sleep with a heavy barrel but she managed to slide it behind her and tell lies that she was worried about him. That had been enough for the Captain that night.

Now however the dancer hovered back, not helping as the ship started towards another in hopes of a raid.

 

[Livyatan the Tempest]

It had taken a great deal of convincing to gain the trust of the captain of this ship to the point where he was willing to hire the young man. After all, it wasn't every day you let a Leviathan Dragon aboard your ship.
Of course, the only one on the ship who knew the truth was the captain; for Livyatan, convincing the most intelligent of the crew that he was not as monstrous as the legends would have was certainly difficult enough, and having to convince an entire crew as much would be next to impossible. So he had blended in with the crew, under the name Lee V. Atan, in the form of this young-looking human with a slightly feral countenance.
The mercenary had been on the deck when the alarm sounded, and he quickly readied himself for the worst. The odds of him having to dive into the sea and assume his true form were (hopefully) very low, but that did not mean he would not have to fight (and he was certainly an able combatant even in his disguised form).
The first sign of an attack would have Lee fire a retaliatory blast of lightning at the attacking ship. Of course, the nature of this magic was sorcerous, but sorcerers existed among humans, and it would also have explained his unusual appearance if he were one. The blast would be able to be fired a good few hundred meters, but if the enemy ship were farther than that, Lee would shoot it into the water to extend its range.
In the event no attack came, he would remain on alert, just in case.

 

[Cassian Laroche]

As the sounds of the drums below deck increased their speed so also did the galley itself. Oars beat the water with a fury Cassian was familiar with. The hunt was on. *Thrump. Thrump. Thrump.Thrump.* He could feel it in his chest as much as hear it with his ears. The distance closed fast, the large ballista towards the rear of the ship hurried into service. The Shriek wasn't a warship. Small deck, lightly shielded rowers, one ballista, and only 4 small scorpio. It was a galley, meant to chase and harass. To prey on the weak.

Closer and closer the two vessels drew to each other, close enough that Cassian could make out the distinct form of men upon their quarry's deck. If there had been a ruse to begin with it was up now. In response, the other ship had begun to turn away hoping to escape before she could be accosted. It was too late. "Caravel! Doesn't appear to be armed!" Cassian heard shouted from the prow. Captain Traeger's eyes came alight, a grin stretching from corner to corner across his his bearded mug. Something didn't feel right. A single ship, unarmed, un-escorted through "The Hole"? These weren't Cassian's home waters but even he couldn't help but feel that something was suspect.

Each moment passed brought the vessels closer together, soon the other vessel would be in range of the forward weapons. The sounds of battle would rise above the crash of the waves, the rau of the oars against the sea, the heavy drum beats below that coordinated each labored pull of the rowers. Through it all Cassian's feeling of unease only grew, as if struck by a thought he moved to the gunwale near the stern and raised the glass to his eye. To aft he scanned the horizon. Water, water, more water. That's when he saw it. He spent several seconds confirming it before he recognized the familiar sight of a dark splotch along the otherwise pale horizon.

"Sails to aft! Sails to Aft!" *Red sails to boot.* The thought sent a chill down the man's spine. Pirate hunters, perhaps a tradition carried over from some distant city, civilization, who knew. Cassian only knew that if they failed to take their prize swiftly that in just as much time the hunters would be upon them. It was a conflict he would much rather avoid. The Captain had heard his alarm and examined the horizon. By all appearances he too preferred to avoid the hunters.

"Hurry it up! Prepare the grapples. Fire at will you bastards! Heave ho!"
​

Making his way amidships Cassian drew his cutlass and braced himself against the edge. As soon as they were within boarding range he along with the others would launch a furious assault on the small ship. Now easily in sight he could identify it as a caravel, a small but swift ship. If this had been a trap from the start it was possible there was nothing of worth on board - on the other hand, perhaps they hadn't been meant to see the hunters just yet. *You don't catch mice without a piece of cheese.* Cassian thought to himself. Above the constant *Thwaaack* of the weapons and their strings he could hear the violent shouts of the crew as they rallied themselves for the battle about to unfold. Joining in their reveille he lifted his own voice in an intimidating shout across the water. *Soon.*

 

[Yeva]

The boat rocked and swayed beneath Yeva and she clutched herself tightly, shutting her eyes in a bid to stave away the rolling sickness that had kept her immobile for the past several hours (days?). She could not longer tell how much time had passed since she’d stowed away after overhearing some of the sailors speaking of crossing the ‘Hole.’ She’d heard of mystics that lived near these waters from the travelers that had visited her vill-


No. None of that.


Instead she inhaled and exhaled as evenly as she could, finding balance in that simple act. The illness lessened but the regular pangs that ate away at her mind remained always- gnawing and teasing. The agony came and went, leaving her cold in the small nook she’d settled herself in. Thankfully, beyond the lurching waves of her stomach she’d seen little trouble. The occasional sailor that had ventured below decks to check their supplies had their suspicions waylaid when she’d drawn on those feelings- though she’d suffered intense, illogical fear in its aftermath.


Suddenly the world lurched so fiercely that Yeva thought she’d fallen over- but no- it was the ship, turning abruptly. There was commotion above her, footsteps beating against the floorboards in a beat she couldn’t sing to. The cacophony gripped her heart and she pitched forward to her hands and knees, closing her eyes against the nausea that threatened to overtake her yet again. In the distance she could hear shouting, frantic noises that were too vague to decipher. But she could feel it in the air, the cadence of their words- fear, anticipation, the strange taste-feel that preceded combat and death. They were running.


From what? Paranoia mounted, keening to a pitch in her skull and she resisted the urge to draw on the pounding sensate of emotions rolling about her. Instead she slowly rose to her feet, shaky from the yawing emotions and the sway of the ship itself. Grabbing Lusine, she strapped the worn lute to her back and patted her hands over her notebook-ensuring it was clasped properly. A final check, she drew her hands over the small dagger in her boot- though she’d never used it for anything more than peeling apples. Good, she had everything.


Panic slithered its hands around her throat. Yes, she had everything- but what then? Where was she to go? They could be miles away from land, there could be foul creatures clawing their way over the edges, ready to gouge anyone aboard and feast on their entrail-


Inhale. Exhale. Balance. Balance. If she were to die, then she would not do so hiding.


Yeva made her way to the stairs, hiding in the shadows as she watched the shadows and footfalls of sailors preparing for...battle? Death? She didn’t know. Thankfully the chaos of whatever they feared meant that they had little attention to spare, too focused on their tasks to notice her as she tiptoed through their ranks.


There was a loud whistle and someone shouted “Pirates!” The voice held an undertone of anticipation- a raw glee at whatever was to come. It struck her wrong but it was forgotten in light of that new fear. She’d heard stories of course, things about the high-seas and dashing rogues that seemed like legends to a farm-girl like herself. But she’d been out long enough to know that pirates were anything but. Swallowing thickly, Yeva forced herself to move- timing her dashes well enough to avoid being spotted. It took her a few minutes to make her way up and the fresh, salty air burned across her face. Heaving, Yeva flung herself to the nearest edge, eyes drawn upward to the red sails and then to the ship that followed them.


There were men on that steadily closing boat- shouting and exultant, their weapons gleaming like angry teeth. Her hands wrung themselves around the edges of her cloak. She was afraid.