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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 2 2016, 01:14 AM (59 Views) | |
| arbalaragan | Oct 2 2016, 01:14 AM Post #1 |
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beginner
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Set a while before Shelldor's debut The broken bottles, flattened pillow and soul crushing headache were sure signs the Dread Captain Waldo had been deep in his cups. That damnable Dreadsylvania fortune teller had etched his mind with a grave future. The dreams all involved the abomination of gingerbear cutouts and the horrid breath of old forgotten gods. Gods whose dreams were creeping closer. The Captain quickly dipped his head in a bucket of saltwater. While pouring his morning ruby port, the air had a strange hum to it. Maybe Waldo should quit accepting non meat payments from hippies. But he had his needs, and there was lil doubt in this world and the next that they would be filled. The fourth glass cleared his eyes but not the continued hum in his head. "Cap'n, you must see this," called out his most recent second mate after a knock on the door. Waldo dosed himself with a stout combination of sedatives, and an even larger snort of stimulants. Checking the mirror for proper pupils, and throwing his accordion over his shoulder, he kicked open the door to hell. That fellow with the fancy shield had the men moving at a good pace despite the hurricane winds slashing across the deck. Blessed be steamships, and their lack of sails, or this scene would be long since ended. The pirate ship, Arbalaragan, dealt mainly in rum, slaves, and if need be aggression, but she was really a runner, and not a fighter. "Captain, I am giving her all she's got, but fore nor aft we go." The fellow from the highlands was a horrible engineer, but damn if that accent, and his delicious liquor, did not please Waldo. "This is what we've been hunting boys! Think of the plunder this lovely lady will bring!" In truth Waldo's illusionary peg leg did a rapid staccato on the thin steel deck. The behemoth dwarfed the Arbala by thrice. An engineer's dark fantasy brought to life with deft hands, and dark magic. The big guns hung over the side, impressive, but impotent at this angle. "Boys, prepare the 6 pounders with grapplers, and the big 18 is useless here, but fill her with prismatic wads." "Done, Sir, ready for your word." "Fire!!!" A spectacular failure if there had ever been one. The grappling hooks slid along the slick hull, and fell to the deck, crushing the legs of two of his slave pirates. The hull of that ship had not even the smallest crevice for his dwarven hooks to catch. "Last time I buy non enchanted hooks," muttered the Captain. The maw of the beast opened slowly, much like a mighty snake flexing jaws before feasting. Waldo's men, ever nonplussed by a small setback, saw the opening, and had the hooks ready for another volley. The big fellow with the shield looked at the Captain with a amused eyes, and a distinct frown. "Fire!!!!" Half the hooks connected, and the sailors prepared for boarding. Their weapons crude, and their faces smiling at the thought of pillage, they began ascending. The big guns of the big bastard boomed violently, causing the Arbala to dip violently. Lines snapped, men died, but what truly distressed the crew was the shark smiles of the rifled rounds as they curved in a beautiful parabolic curve right towards the ship. "Steady, steady, they're moving slow, crew. Dodge, block, or die!" The crew did well. Less than a quarter of the men were knocked overboard. Waldo prayed the damn, dirty Dolphins would have mercy on their souls. He saw the flash of wizardfish, and knew their fate was sealed. Not since his crew had been seduced by those sirens in the east seas had he lost so many. The opening beneath the airship clicked open, and hell flowed forth. Flaming barrels fell at the same time as the Captain's nightmare beasts. The beasts and the barrels crashed to the deck. The flaming tar pouring from the barrels heated the metal deck and made an acrid smoke. The smoke was pierced by screams as one of the barrels found its way down below. The crew was overwhelmed, but the man with the fancy shield had the front half of the boat form tight ranks. The rear half of the ship was only Waldo, and the ever present Tom, Dick, and Harry. Captain Waldo sent his faithful familiar to their aid, and hatched a plan to get them out of this mess. Swiftly to the 18 pounder, Waldo stuffed one of his most prized possessions, an epic wad into a cannon, angled it, lit the fuse, and prayed. The blast threw beast and man to the deck. The screams of monster and man went unheard by deafened ears. The Captain could not read the scroll of drastic healing for the smoke. Feeling through the smoke, debris, and blood, the Captain found where once the mighty cannon stood. His hearing was returning, and the smoke rose in straight smooth plumes. He knew that he did little more than kick the airship in the knee, err, prop, but he had bought himself at least time to escape their current location. "Well, that was fun," said the fellow with the fancy shield. "You have never been South of the Border, friend, if you think that is fun." The Captain winked. "Cap'n, we lost one of the props, most of the supplies, half the men, but we can steer," slurred the Highlands engineer. "Turn west, make as best speed as you can, ration the food, and make the infirmary a priority," the Dread Captain Waldo spoke firmly. "What is the plan?" asked the fellow with the fancy shield. "We are gonna need a bigger boat." Edited by Dash |
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7:24 PM Jul 11