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The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Fri Nov 28, 2008 11:37 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme "I don't care what Aiden says."
"Yes, sir." "Tell the other ships that we're holding this blockade until we find them. They have to have been damned fast to have gotten out of here already." "Yes, sir." The unfortunate subordinate stood before Admiral Griffin, no longer attempting to inform him of Admiral Aiden's concerns. Aiden seemed mostly full of hot air. Of course, the fact that he'd been married to a pirate made the subordinate wonder whether Aiden might be right. Pirates were fast, and if Aiden said they were probably gone by now, then they were probably gone by now. He would never say that to another Admiral's face, of course, and it didn't affect him much anyway; he got his pay whether they encountered pirates or not, and he had a better chance of coming out unscathed if he never saw another pirate in his life. Admiral Griffin, on the other hand, had a very personal stake in this chase. I will find her, he thought, glowering so hard that his subordinate made quick work of finding somewhere else to be. The explosion came without warning. Philip's first thought was that he'd never authorized the use of cannons-- the last thing he needed was to blow the ship up. Then he realized that it hadn't been cannonfire. The explosion had been accompanied by a spray of water high enough to make Philip gape. When he arrived at the scene, he found—much to his relief—that none of the ships had been damaged. The nearest ship was one of his own and had already caught the apparent culprit. The man—who, judging by his dress, could only be a pirate—was sitting on the deck, bound and babbling incoherently. “Who is this?” “We don’t know, sir. We’ve been trying to get something comprehensible out of him for several minutes now.” Philip bent down until he was nearly at eye level with the pirate. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him roughly. This seemed to snap him out of it, or so Philip thought, but after a very short moment of silence the pirate began to babble more loudly than before. “We’re all gonna die!!!” he wailed at the top of his lungs. “Were gonna get caught because I didn’t blow up the ship and we’re gonna get caught, we’re gonne get caught and Frosty McFrost-Frost is gonna kill me except he’s gonna die too because we’re gonna get caught and we’re gonna hang and we’re all gonna die!!!!” He took a shallow breath and continued. “We can’t escape now because we don’t have a clear channel like Frosty said and we’re gonna die because we can’t escape and the Navy’s gonna get us and Captain Jenny’s gonna hit me and we’re all gonna die!” Philip had, from this irritating monologue, managed to catch a few key snippets. “They’re trying to escape at this point in the barricade,” he translated to his men. A quick glance around told him that this was, indeed, the weakest point in the formation; had they managed to blow up this particular ship, they might actually have been able to get out. “Fortify it,” he commanded. “Move ships if you have to. Nobody gets in or out here.” |
Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 12:18 am | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme Captain Frost lowered his telescope, handing it to Marguerite who stood dutifully at his side. His plan had gone off beautifully. Steve had failed to blow up the ship properly, had been captured, and had inadvertently told whoever was in charge exactly the plan that Frost didn't plan to follow. As they went to reinforce the position that Steve had told them the pirates were going to use, they would actually sneak out through the part of the blockade that those now relocated ships had previously defended.
Since Marguerite -- Frost had known her as a "him" named Marc, up until only a few hours ago -- had been first mate on Frost's ship for a long time and knew his silent way of commanding well, he expected her to see the intact ship in the distance and order the execution of their plan. However, the captain realized with what was almost recognizable as embarrassment -- there were few who could read Frost's suppressed expression of emotion -- that his first mate was still in a dress. Consequently, she was his wife and not a pirate, much less someone who Frost's men would take orders from. Though they respected him very much, they were already nervous enough about having their captain's wife on board -- expecting them to treat her as a superior officer was really asking too much of them. "Ah, Mmmarc better recover soon," the captain responded, glancing briefly at his "wife." He only barely avoided using her real name, blowing her whole cover. "Would you check on her... dear?" He spoke the last word as though it were something foreign, that just happened to sound nice. In fact, it was rather foreign to him; however, he decided that it was best to use it in this situation. Few if any on his crew were sharp enough to pick up subtle things like not speaking to a wife familiarly, but Frost was not the type to take chances. As long as she was pretending to be his wife, he had to pretend to be her husband. Turning back to the helmsman, he began issuing orders in his usual, curt manner. "Break through the port side, full sails. No flags." The helmsman began to steer towards the newly clear port side of the blockade, while someone nearby who overheard the rest of the command only hesitated for a second, trying to interpret the command, before rushing to relay the information to those on deck. As he ran, he grumbled some about not having an interpreter; since Marc had always been there to explain what Frost meant, nobody had needed to think about it -- a definite plus in almost all of the crews' minds. Now that she was taken down with a cold, they had to think again. He also was leery about having a woman on board, even if it was the captain's wife, and even if her presence hadn't brought any misfortune yet. At least when she stayed in his cabin, none of them knew about it. Silently, he, as well as the rest of the crew, hoped that Frost's wife would go back into the cabin until they had a chance to drop her off again. It was only silently, of course; nobody dared question Frost's decisions, as he always seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Even when he didn't, he was able to get them out of any tight spots and then later explain how he actually knew what he was doing all along. |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 12:42 am | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme Oh, thank god.
Marguerite was still in a dress, her corset unlaced, wearing the Admiral's jacket. (Which, some part of her noted, was made of a very high-quality fabric and might be worth a good deal despite the wear.) She was, to say the least, severely uncomfortable. Also, she didn't like the way most of the crew was looking at her, and had no doubt that if they weren't all so deathly afraid of the Captain, they might be inclined to throw her overboard. Best to let Frost's wife (the mere thought made her feel sorry for anyone who found themselves actually in that position) go back to the cabin. She was ready to be Marc again, dishing out the Captain's orders and sitting on equal ground with the rest of the bunch of them. She made her way back into Frost's cabin, gathering up her normal clothes and taking off the jacket. Fortunately, her corset was already undone, and there was no need to ask Frost to assist her in undressing-- as if things weren't weird enough already. While the rich satin was a pleasant change from her usual coarse clothing, she was more than happy to get back into more normal clothing. Binding her hair was more difficult than she'd expected; it had reverted to its natural curls while she'd had it down, but she managed to wrestle it into a braid contained enough to pass. She took a careful look at herself in the mirror, trying to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything or left anything too obvious, but she looked every bit the Marc she'd been before all of this ridiculousness. Thank god Frost hadn't chosen to tell the rest of the crew, she thought, although she had no doubt that the remainder of her time on his ship would be a good deal shorter than she would have liked. Still, he didn't think he'd physically harm her. He might be angry about her lie; she hadn't been able to tell before the ball. He'd been preoccupied and as flustered as she'd ever seen him, and she had no idea whether he was going to explode (or at least glare very angrily) at her when he had a spare moment. She supposed she could only wait and see. The scene that greeted her outside the cabin was a rather comical one. The crew was attempting to carry out whatever orders Frost had just issued, but they seemed almost confused. She couldn't blame them; the Captain rarely took the time to make himself entirely clear, especially when you weren't used to listening to him. Still, they seemed to be doing all right. They were sailing right past the blockade, and while she was sure the Navy would turn to chase them rather soon, at least they were out. At full sails, she thought they had a good chance of outrunning them. "Further orders, Captain?" --------------------- "Blast," muttered Philip, as he watched the unmarked ship sail past. He knew very well who they were; any legal ship would have stopped for permission to cross a Navy blockade. "Follow them," he snapped. "Tell Admiral Aiden they've just gotten away and follow them, damn it all." |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 1:47 am | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme Captain Frost shook his head. His plan now was just to make for open sea; the map lead to somewhere relatively far away, and the open waters would yield the fastest movement. Trusting that his newly returned first mate would let the crew know what to do, he headed for his cabin and a well deserved rest. However, right as he reached the door, he heard a timid crewman approach Marc.
"Ah, err... can you tell the captain that... we're... ah... out of rum?" the crewman said hesitantly. "I think... err... Steve might have used it for his explosive." Frost turned around slowly, his keen eyes staring down the crewman where he stood. If his legs weren't shaking so terribly, the poor man might have fled back to his post. While Frost had counted on Steve's consistent failure for his plan to be a success, he hadn't expected him to fail in more than one way. Perhaps he should have. "How much is left?" Frost inquired, his tone of voice doing credit to his nickname. "Ahh... none." The captain closed his eyes and slowly turned back around towards his cabin. The crew would not take kindly to this. He had to get more rum to keep them sane, yet taking port so soon after running a blockade would be suicide. The men would have to deal with just plain water for some time if they were going to avoid being captured. "Prepare the crew. Two days before port." |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 2:01 am | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme She'd known the Captain would be mad at her, but this mad? He's not even gonna kick me off the ship, she thought, visibly bewildered. He's gonna let the crew kill me. Announcing to a group of pirates that there was no rum-- that was a sentence akin to death, in Marc's mind. But she'd never disobeyed one of Frost's orders yet, and she wasn't going to start now. Something in her just wouldn't allow it. So she took a deep breath and stepped out in front of the crew, attempting to calm her nerves, which had never given her trouble before. "Ahem," she began, then paused. "Um." The crew was staring at her expectantly. This is ridiculous, she thought. They don't know a thing. To them, she was still Marc, their first mate, and they were waiting. "We're out of rum," she said, her voice much steadier. "Steve used our rum instead of gunpowder. But we're headed to port to pick up some more, so we all have to last just a little while--"
"--What, like an hour?" asked one of the pirates. "Like... two hours?" "A little longer than that, actually," replied Marc, glancing nervously at Frost's cabin and hoping they didn't press the issue. "Like, three hours?" "Two days," she muttered. "What?" She cleared her throat. "We reach port in two days, men. Until then, we have no rum." There was a very long moment when she wasn't sure whether they understood exactly what she'd just told them. The crew stared blankly back at her, blinking stupidly. Then, one of them: "But why is the rum gone?" Marc sighed and hung her head. The crew had, by now, exploded into choruses of "Why? Why? Why?" and "Kill Steve!" In the commotion, one of the men was either pushed overboard or jumped, unable to face the idea of two full days without rum. Two seconds later, Marc was beating on the Captain's door. |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 2:52 am | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme Frost had been examining his maps, figuring out exactly which port they would be near after two days' worth of sailing. While he had not expected the crew to take the news well, he had anticipated that it would be nothing out of Marc's control. That someone was banging on his door so soon after he had set his first mate to the task was not a good sign -- after all, few people ever banged on his door.
Straightening his large jacket, Captain Frost casually opened his cabin door onto a war scene. Marc appeared to be rather flustered, with good reason; quite possibly Frost's entire crew except for her was excitedly jumping up and down, or banging on whatever they could find, or screaming oaths unfit for the ears of women and children, or any combination thereof. The captain supposed that such a scene was to be expected, yet this was certainly beyond the scope of what he had imagined. Even his appearance on deck, while usually enough to silence the entire ship at least temporarily, failed to calm them down. Retrieving a pistol a pocket in his jacket, Frost casually cocked back the hammer and fired at the closest man to him, placing a bullet just below the man's knee. If Frost's mere presence was not enough to grab everyone's attention, the sharp crack of a pistol shot, followed immediately by the unfortunate fellow's shriek of pain, did. Tossing the spent pistol to Marc, perhaps for eventual reloading, Frost rested his left hand easily on the hilt of his sword and seemed to challenge every single one of his crewmen to a duel just by the way he held himself. "I hear you have problems," Frost said evenly, projecting his voice but not yelling, "with the way I run my ship." He let these words sink in for a moment before continuing. The moans of the crewman Frost shot in the leg drowned out the few mumbles that rippled through the crew. This rather irked Captain Frost -- the injured man could be excused, but otherwise he expected silence in this situation. "Your options are thus: First, you could mutiny, and take port immediately. Second, you can sit tight without complaint. In the first case, assuming you succeed in that foolish mutiny, you will be captured by the Navy, and you will receive no rum for the rest of your natural life. When the mutiny fails, any participants will be in the brig for two weeks, with no rum. That's two weeks further from treasure, and two weeks without rum. Now, in the second case, all you have to wait is two days." Frost paused again here, and was greeted with silence. Before continuing, he looked over every single one of his men with those icicle gray eyes of his, drilling in his point one by one. "Two days? Or, two weeks?" When he finished, Frost looked over to his first mate. He said nothing, but raised an eyebrow in lieu of words. Its meaning was rather obscure, of course. On one hand, it might have meant, "How did I do?" while on the other it could have meant, "Why didn't you think of this?" OOC: After thinking about it, I don't think Frost cares that Marc's a woman. Sure, she was technically lying, but she had/has a good reason to keep that secret, and it hasn't interfered with her usefulness. It's not as though she lied with malicious intent. Also, she is still the same First Mate, and a dang good one at that, to be able to understand his very subtle commands. He wouldn't let such things as being upset because he was lied to once put him in a position where he would have to find a new First Mate that was as helpful as Marc. Anyway, that's what I decided, and I'm posting it here so I don't forget :P |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 4:47 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme OOC:She doesn't know that. :D Which might very well affect her performance; it might be difficult to go back to being her normal more-than-competent self when she's quite literally shaking in her boots. XD Poor Marc.
Marc knew the Captain well enough to know that he was not one to look for approval often, not even from a trusted first mate, and so she interpreted his glance as a sort of disapproval. Suddenly embarrassed at having bothered him with something she ought to have been able to handle, Marc began to fidget nervously. "Sorry, Captain," she blurted suddenly. "I didn't... know what to do." Which was a lame excuse, even to her own ears, but she didn't know what to say. She'd honestly expected the whole hey-you're-a-girl issue to come up as soon as they'd had a spare moment, but the Captain didn't appear to want to discuss it. That in itself was throwing her off. She didn't want to be the first to broach the subject, but on the other hand, she didn't know how else to explain her sudden inability to think straight. She was nervous as hell, and she was sure it was showing. Deciding it was safer to ignore that issue for the moment, Marc chose instead to tend to the man who'd been shot. He seemed to be in incredible amounts of pain, but the wound itself was not a severe one-- the bullet only appeared to have grazed him. After sending someone to stitch him up as best as they could (without rum, but he'd sort of deserved it), she returned to the Captain's side. "He's, uh... he's all right, Captain," she began, before realizing that Frost probably knew that already. And, probably, didn't much care. She realized that her hands were stained with blood and proceeded to wipe them on the dark cloth of her pants, attempting to clean herself up as much as possible. "Um. Which... which port are we headed for, then, Captain?" There were certainly ports closer than two days away, as he obviously realized. She could only assume he had a specific one in mind. Or perhaps he only meant to put as much distance between them and the Navy ships-- again, she was sure he'd realized that they were being followed-- before putting themselves in such a vulnerable position as stopping at port. She voiced these thoughts, unconsciously reverting to her usual levelheadedness as she did so, then stopped and cocked her head to one side, waiting for Frost to either confirm these thoughts or at least give her some small hint. |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 10:19 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: I just realized that I'm not entirely sure where we are... o_o; The "Port" I chose is a city randomly somewhere in Europe and may or may not actually have a port / be within two days' travel of wherever we are
Frost looked at his First Mate with curiosity -- that is, his face expressed a particularly vague variation on "blankness" that might have involved a slight tilt of the head. It was rather rare for Marc to fidget as much as she was, and even more so for her to "not know what to do." That she admitted it seemed to be yet a third higher degree of rarity, and the Captain was at a loss to explain it. Still, he assumed that perhaps she was just getting her sea legs and not quite in balance yet, and that the phase would pass. As the ship was more or less alright -- though the crew was in rather poor spirits thanks to the complete lack of any alcohol -- Frost was ready to let slide Marc's temporary confusion. That wasn't to say he wasn't disappointed in her, but he was confident that she understood this already. If not, she was clever and would pick it up soon. At any rate, he was also confident that she would set things right in no time by resuming her usual command of the crew. "Brest," Frost said at last, answering Marc's question. "The crew will be upset, no doubt, but they have dealt with worse. We will manage." Frost put a hand on the handle to his cabin, but hesitated for a second, glancing back at his First Mate. His eyebrows fluttered upward ever-so-slightly, perhaps giving her a chance to ask any further questions that she might have. As the Captain was as eager to have his competent First Mate back in action as he was sure the rest of his crew was, he wanted to provide her with any help he could without seeming unnecessarily compassionate. OOC: I swear I didn't think about the brilliant homophone-double meaning when I picked this city on the edge of France. But it just made for such delicious possible misunderstandings that I couldn't help but change his dialog around a bit to increase the awkward >:) |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sun Nov 30, 2008 2:35 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme Marc's mind blanked when she heard Frost's answer; the rest of his explanation took a moment to sink in. When it did, she was even more confused, and rather embarrassed. Upset? Dealt with worse? First of all, neither of those was true. Secondly, this didn't sound like the Captain at all. He hadn't even answered her question, really, unless he was honestly in search of nothing more than a specific part of the female anatomy. Which he wasn't, because he was Frost, and because such notions would make her current situation unbearably humiliating. Not that it wasn't already. Marc was proud by nature, and being in a state of constant mortification was taking a toll on her.
It took her several moments to realize what, exactly, he had meant. Oh. Well, that made sense, then. Although why he'd had to choose such a poorly named port was absolutely beyond her. "Right. Brest. Good." She stopped, realizing that he had turned and was staring at her, eyebrows raised. What is he waiting for? she wondered, frozen to the spot. Am I supposed to say something? It wasn't really like Frost to stop and stare for no reason at all; he seemed to enjoy unnerving people, yes, but he had other ways of doing so. Which meant that something was expected of her, although she couldn't for the life of her figure out-- Oh. So that was how it was going to go. Well, it wasn't as though she had a choice, and it wasn't as though this was unexpected, although she had thought he might have been more straightforward about it, rather than letting her flounder for so long. "And... I'll be getting off there, Captain?" OOC:Poor Marc. She thinks he's kicking her off the ship. Although, really, who can blame her? I imagine having Frost turn and stare at you is likely to get a person jumping to all sorts of ridiculous conclusions. |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:04 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: I imagine just having Frost stand near you might get a person to jump to ridiculous conclusions...
Frost blinked and hesitated for a second, but otherwise concealed his confusion at Marc's response. It seemed very much like someone was misinterpreting the others' words, and that trouble might have even been mutual. "Yes, unless you'd rather someone else?" Frost replied casually, thinking that she was referring to the duty of replenishing their rum supplies. While it was worded and voiced as a question, it was fairly clear that Frost was expecting her to take care of it. After all, she had always been eager to take charge of any missions that involved retrieving something, be it treasure from a captured ship or just rum from port. As a matter of fact, she had always seemed to be eager to take charge of any mission which Frost had given to her. "I'll be in here," Frost said, yanking on the handle to his cabin, leaving the implied "...if you need any help, but I trust that you can handle everything" unsaid. OOC: It's just so easy to "help" the awkward misunderstandings... I can't help it. |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:35 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme OOC:Fast-forward, anyone? Can't really do much for a while except cause more ridiculous misunderstandings... which would be fun, except Marc's brain is already about to explode as it is. :P
Let me know if you wanted to not fast-forward. I just couldn't come up with anything else to do. Well, there it was. She couldn't have asked for anything more straightforward than that. And he'd seemed so nonchalant about it, too. But she couldn't blame him, really. Besides, it wasn't as though she'd never been kicked off a ship before. She'd been hopping from one to another for years now, and it had never really bothered her before. Surely this time wouldn't be so different-- all she had to do was sign up for another ship, take a few weeks to get used to it... Right. It won't be so bad. She continued to tell herself this for the remainder of the trip to Brest, although it didn't much help her gloomy spirits. Usually, she was eager to help and spent her time in Frost's general vicinity, hoping to make herself useful; now, however, she seemed to be avoid Frost whenever possible, spending her time either below deck or finding some way to be busy helping other members of the crew. She might have considered getting drunk as an alternative, except that she'd never made a habit of drinking and there wasn't any rum anyway. Fortunately, there was nothing to pack, which meant no awkward questions from the rest of the crew. They'd figure things out soon enough, anyway. It was the afternoon of the second day when the man in the crow's nest called down to her. "'Oy, Marc," he shouted, and she craned her neck to look up at him. The metal of his spyglass was glinting in the sun-- it was an exceptionally bright day, without a cloud in sight. "We're comin' up to Brest." The man seemed to think about that for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled. His crude comment was lost in a sudden gust of wind, however, and Marc turned to go knock on the Captain's door. "Captain," she called through the heavy wooden door. "We're nearing the port." |
Melia Stahlflugel Joined: 4 Aug 2005 Posts: 613 | Posted: Mon Dec 01, 2008 12:38 am | Characters: All for this theme; By Melia Stahlflugel: This theme, Any theme Jenny sat in a relatively undisturbed area of the deck, between coils of rope and barrels. She had nothing to do, but this suited her- she had much to think about. The past, mostly.
Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by the lookout’s cry- “We’re comin’ up to Brest!” Oh, that place, she thought absently. I remember my parents once discussed vacationing there. Supposedly they have very nice hot springs… And then she came to a rather important realization- Oh, right, we were rich. Which means… the clientele of this place is most likely also rich. This is guaranteed be an interesting booze run. A slow smile spread across her face. Jenny stood up and stretched in preparation for docking. She still had a feeling of apprehension, one that had tickled her brain ever since they left the Navy Ball. Nothing had really gone wrong since then, and so she was growing suspicious of their good luck. It was bound to run out, and likely soon. But that wasn’t really her problem, was it? - The flagman had just finished yelling over Admiral Griffin’s orders. Aiden yelled, “So then what’re you all waitin’ for? You got your heads up your asses? After them!” The Naval vessel immediately began to sail after the rapidly shrinking silhouette of the pirate ship. Aiden then stormed back to his suite, hatch slamming behind him. He sunk into his high-backed leather chair, which groaned under his considerable bulk. There was also someone else in the room- cleaning, presumably, as he always wanted everything immaculate- but he was too distracted to dismiss him. The ball, something he had actually looked forward to, had turned into a debacle- and there was only one person to blame… Jennifer Johnson. I just can't seem to escape that bitch. He gripped his hands harder and harder into fists as he thought of the incident. In front of all of the high ranking officers of the Royal Navy- not to mention the Queen herself- she had beaten him and trapped him in a Goddamn chandelier. His hands went white from the force, and his wounds opened and bled freely onto his uniform pants. “I’ll see her dead with my own two hands yet,” He said, dripping with so much anger and hate that the cabin-boy polishing the floor bolted. OOC:I accidentally deleted the first version, cry cry :<<
Anyways, this is pretty much all I can do at the moment~ |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Mon Dec 01, 2008 1:45 am | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: Gah, I need to come up with the "brother" character so Aiden/Philip have someone else to interact with.... Also, I was hoping you would fast-forward, actually
At the knock on his door, Captain Frost placed the book he had been reading in the top drawer of his desk and threw on his heavy jacket. After taking a second to make sure everything was in order, he checked his large pocket watch and stepped outside. They had apparently not had as strong a wind as he might have hoped for, but it would have to do. This should only be a short stop, anyway, and if they had a bad wind that meant any pursuers would, as well. At any rate, Frost hoped very much that it would only be a very short stop -- if any more of his crew went dockside than absolutely necessary, their presence would not long stay a secret. As he recalled from his youth, the port of Brest was rather popular with the upper levels of polite society. It was fortunately close to the route he had planned to take towards the treasure, however, so it was the most logical place to stop. Besides the high society, there was only other one problem with Brest -- it was almost completely surrounded by a rather treacherous reef. Knowledgeable sailors could navigate it easily, of course, but anyone unfamiliar with the area could miss the reef easily. Still, Frost considered himself one of the knowledgeable sailors, and expected this trip to go over without any serious hitch. Little did he know just how much he would come to regret this decision. As soon as he stepped out onto deck, he knew they were in trouble. The reason they were arriving later than expected was because the crow's nest had alerted him upon sighting the port, and had apparently missed the large reef. Frost all but dashed to the bridge, whipping out his telescope and examining the waters, trying to get his bearings. "Hard to starboard!" Radley commanded, wasting no time. "Get someone competent up in the nest. All hands to starboard!" The Captain's jaw tightened, perhaps the clearest sign of irritation he had or would ever give in his life, while his eyes reflected white-hot flames. Even with the weight shifted into the turn, however, he knew it was too late. They were practically upon the reef already, and were moving much too fast to avoid it. The best he could hope for would be a few split seams in the port side of the hull, which might or might not be repairable. Suddenly, he almost hoped the Navy was after him. If The Red Triumph could not make it through this debacle, then Frost would simply find himself another ship, just as worthy. Even before the impact, the wheels in Captain Frost's head began to turn. "Regrettably, your trip may be longer than expected," Frost said to Marc, his anger kept well under control. "You may also have to be responsible for half, rather than a handful," he continued, referring to the number of crewmen she would command. After all, even Frost would have difficulty keeping the entire pirate crew of the Red Triumph under control on land, and in such a popular place as Brest. OOC: Even now, he can send confusing/mixed signals... :) |
| Melia Stahlflugel Joined: 4 Aug 2005 Posts: 613 | Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2008 11:38 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Melia Stahlflugel: This theme, Any theme The crew turned the ship as sharply as they could, but it was too little, too late. A great groan came from within its belly, the ship loudly protesting as its hull met the reef. Jenny looked over to the Captain, who seemed in his irritation to have developed a bad case of lockjaw. She couldn't blame him; when her own vessel had hit the reef she had been so angry she had shot the navigator out of spite.
"Sounds bad," she observed with a smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. "I can't believe you of all people forgot about the reef." "However," She added as the terrible noise finally stopped, "I think we'll scrape by to port... If you'll excuse my terrible pun." OOC:I don't know, I still don't like this post... but whatever, just moving stuff along... |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 9:50 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: I'll wait for Frost until Christine posts as Marc, but I just wanted to somehow throw Charles onboard. I decided to put him on Griffin's ship (for now, haha) because Aiden just doesn't need any sidekicks. They would die too fast
Charles Radley stood on the bridge of Admiral Griffin's ship near the helmsman, ready to relay new orders, and watching as the crewmen scurried about on deck, doing all the menial tasks required to keep the ship, well, ship-shape, to abuse the phrase. Radley stood tall and proud, and would have been rather imposing if he didn't often drink with the crew and end up making a fool out of himself. Unlike his brother, one of Charles' greatest weaknesses was alcohol. While his brother could put it down with the best when he had to but generally abstained, Charles loved the stuff but had almost no tolerance. Though he rarely got sick -- a particularly amazing feat, considering he practically lived on the ocean -- it took little more than a single mug before he was stumbling over himself and acting the fool. If the crew had never seen this, they might have been impressed by his posture and strong presence, but, as it was, they thought of him only as an old pal who they had to take orders from every now and again. "So we're going after pirates, then?" The helmsman asked, keeping his voice low so only Radley could hear. Though the guy didn't expect to get away with idle conversation with the other officers, he knew that Radley, at least, was a fan of gossip and the like. "Word is something interesting happened at the ball last night. You're an officer, you hear anything?" "Oh, it was a disaster," Charles responded just as quietly, keeping his face straight so nobody could guess what he was talking about. "These pirates showed up and ruined the whole thing. Really embarrassed Admiral Aiden, but you didn't hear that from me. Hate to be on his ship right now, that's for sure." "I see," the helmsman said. "So, any pretty ladies you make an acquaintance with, eh? I hear they send some real killers to those things. Wish I could get myself a promotion just to attend such a gig." "I... err," Charles spluttered, the color spreading to his cheeks ruining the stern facade he was trying to maintain. "Well there was this one woman, the Admiral seemed to know her. Real pretty, to be sure. I was about to ask Admiral Griffin about her, but he uh... didn't seem to want to talk about her." OOC: So... I had no idea how to end the post. I wanted to somehow get in how bad he is at acting tough and Frost-like, and it just went downhill from there. Sorry for the lameness, but if SOMEONE would post... *cough*
It's amazing how, despite having five documents open for my final paper, I still end up here >_<; |
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