Pirate hunting

[Zandron]

Zandron takes a deep breath, taking in the salt, wind, and heat. The five years since he was last on a ship had felt like an eternity, but now that he was once again at sea, the former pirate feels sadly unfulfilled. Can't let my crew see any of that, he reasons. He claps his former first mate on the shoulder.

"Mahto, we coming close to Halsted's target," his tongue lilting over the still-foreign language. He grins at the Ga'vinn, "Be happy! Fighting is soon."

The old elf looks about the deck, eventually spotting the merchant captain himself. "Halsted!" he hails the man, waving exuberantly. "Remember, you try to not put holes in new ship." One hand rests on the hilt of his paired blades, thumb twitching over the pommel.

[Nick]

~: Captain Halstead was in rare form today, perhaps actually excited for the chase. Lookouts stationed around the Isles had given him Deegrade's heading, and at full sail they were in hot pursuit. Hell, the "merchant" captain had even taken the place of his helmsman at the wheel, making only slight course corrections as made way under full sail.

When Zandron hollered up to him a sly smirk befell the Captain's face. He replied in a cheery tone that only served to reinforce his anticipations. :~

"I'm a man of my word Mr. Zandron. All you have to do is keep yours and we'll come to an accord over the vessel. For now just enjoy the journey!"

[Zandron]

The grizzled elf nodded. With any luck, he'd soon have a ship once more. And luck had been kind to Zandron lately - the crew's ranks had increased threefold, and the last few moons had yielded bounties both monetary and political. And the battles...

Zandron smiled to himself and touched his fingers once again to the hilts of his matching blades. His time spent commanding Haven's special forces had brought him back to his fighting prime, and he had gone the last moon almost entirely without alcohol. His smile broke into a grin at the memory of Rothek's retching all over the inn's doorstep in the Corsair Isles.

His blades were sharp, his wits ready. There was nothing to do but wait for Halstead's galleon to overtake its prey.

[Zandron]

Cries of preparation echoed from Deegrade's ship, now close enough to read the lettering on the starboard prow.

Deegrade's The Six Bitches was only a cable away, just out of arrow range. Zandron's keen eye noted that though her crew was preparing bows, the ship had no rear cannons. He drew out a notebook after patting himself down and discovering it in a belt pouch; Stn chaser cannon was soon added to a growing list of modifications, just below Grog vault.

It was times like this that Zandron wished he had kept up his archery skills. But ah, blades are so much more personal. Up in the crow's nest, he noted that the barrelman was already nocking an arrow. Roger was the youth's name, and Halstead had earlier boasted of his marksmanship. Zandron touched the brim of his hat to the lookout, then turned to the bow once more. In a few moments, they would be in range of both broadside fire and gangplank. Halstead had turned the bow just ten degrees to the larboard, setting his vessel on a path to nearly scrape The Six Bitches' beam.

[Mahto Snowbringer]

Mahto's fur cape whipped behind him in the ocean wind. Earlier in the year, before they had left the Isles he had been dressed in a more traditionally "pirate" uniform. But, since the cold air had began to blow he donned the attire of his people. His leather and cape warmed him and his scarf had returned to his neck from his head-where it had been during the summertime.

Their boat neared the enemies and a thin smile appeared on his scared face. It had been a long time since he had had a battle at see, sometimes those on dry land got a little too boring, a little TOO easy. He griped his ancestral shield and sword tightly, an uncommon sight on a ship to be sure but he would never let them go-even in death.

He trudged to a position near the connection plank and put his massive shield in front of his body.
"I'll walk first...to block the arrows." His was low and curt, you can easily hear him but it still remains soft compared to the shuffling around the boat.

[Zandron]

Thunder shook the air, slamming into Zandron's mangled ears, as the ships exchanged blasts of balls and grapeshot. Halstead and Deegrade bellowed orders to reload, take aim, and fire as the ships rocked back and forth, decks momentarily obscured by the clouds of blackpowder. With a crash, the gangplank was down.

"Go, go!" Zandron called to the boarding crew from just behind his first mate. With a shared cry, they charged en masse aboard The Six Bitches.

The ship was chaos. Halstead's grapeshot had laid waste to her topdeck crew, and Deegrade, having taken cover upon the reinforced poop deck, shouted for reinforcements from below decks. Through the ringing in his ears, Zandron could make out the pounding of footsteps from the main stair.

"Snowbringer, 'scusing me," he shouts, planting a hand on Mahto's shoulder and leaping around him just as the first poor sailor emerges. He unlucky soul's last sight was a blade arcing towards his neck as Zandron fell, twisting his hips to put his entire weight behind the strike. The elf grinned, then winked, then saluted the deckhands gaping at their nearly-headless comrade.

With a start, he hears an arrow thunk into wood behind him. Zandron turns to find Mahto Snowbringer's shield raised, having intercepted a bolt that surely would have pierced straight through his feathered cap. Zandron shrugs meekly, and mutters, "Thank you," before turning back to their enemies.

[Zandron]

"Fools! Cowards!" bellowed Deegrade, true to his unfortunate name, "Fight or be slain." He produced a crossbow leveling it at his own crew. They shakily drew their weapons, turning hesitantly to Zandron and Halstead's now-arriving boarding crew.

Zandron sighed, lifting his blades again. "We not need to fighting, Deeegraide," he called to the captain, accent butchering the captain's name. "Negotiate. Save your head and crew."

Without further warning, Deegrade fired a bolt at the captain's chest. Time slowed down as centuries of reflex training snapped into focus. Zandron had begun moving by the time he heard the trigger click. Lifting his left leg in an instant, he let gravity pull him into a falling step in that direction. Zandron felt the bolt whiz by his shoulder a blink before his step is complete.

"A broadhead would have cut you," he heard his long-slain armsmaster scold.

"Mahto," he calls calmly, pointing with a blade, "Kill him."

[Mahto Snowbringer]

Mahto curled his lip in a smirk. The old elf was getting slower, even Mahto could tell...

Mahto took one step forward, then broke into an astoundingly fast sprint! He roared like a bear and the rest of Halstead's crew engaged the pirates. He drew his shield back and smashed the point into the nearest pirate. In an instant he whipped around cleaving the head of the man nest to him. The two men dropped to the floor as Mahto stared down Deegrade...in his deep tone he growled like a primal beast: "Beware the Redwind." Mahto swung his shield at the captain smashing him in the head and torso. Deegrade stumbled back his face completely torn and bleeding, he fell on his ass. A swift kick from the Ga'vin disarmed the man. Mahto turned back to his captain, "Sorry Captain Zandron, but I think it is Halstead's rightful kill." He turned back and put his sword point to Deegrade's neck.

[Zandron]

Zandron looked up from the small band of Deegrade's crew that had just now dropped their weapons. "Halsteed! " he shouted, keeping his eyes on the captives.

"You choose what we do with Deeegraide?"

[Zandron]

Halstead offered no response; indeed, the captain was nowhere to be seen. Zandron frowns, throwing a subtle look to Mahto, subtly communicating as they had hundreds of times that something was wrong. The elf sweeps his eyes across the two ships, quickly scanning for any signs of continuing struggle, or evidence of Halstead's presence.

Deegrade opens his bloodied mouth as if to speak, but Zandron is upon him in an instant, throwing a hilt-weighted jab to the pirate captain's left temple. The man is out cold before he hits the deck. "Quiet, plееse, кeptin Дeegrade," Zandron mutters under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

"Roger!" he yells to the Halstead's barrelman lookout "Кeep looкout foг the кeptin." Seeing no other options, Zandron nudges Mahto, making sure he has the Ga'Vinn's attention before calling out to both crews.

"кrewmans and officeяs of Halsted and Дeegraide. I am кeptin Zandron. I take кoммand of ships. Уoц all follow me noщ. Мahto, my First, will taкe Halsted's back, and follow Six Бitches. Any щant to mutiny now foг saving time?" He grins at the crews of both ships, clapping a hand on Mahto's shoulder.

[Nick]

// APOLOGIES FOR MY ABSENCE! RL! IT TOOK OVER! Assuming direct control!

~: As Zandron scans the deck it is obvious Halsted is not present, and his crewmen are obviously a bit flustered at this. Most if not all of Degrade's forces have either been dispatched (violently) or have been detained accordingly. Halsted's men however realize that now is not the time for arguments, what with having successfully taken the ship. There is an exclamation though from the starboard bow, and two of the pirates rush to the railing.

With a few curses and mutterings Captain Halsted is hauled back onto the vessel, a rope clutched in his hand running back up to the rigging. He sputters and spits and he curses before he's on his feet, and immediately throwing his arms back towards his vessel. His eyes were wide, red from the sea-water he'd no doubt been swimming in. He looked to Zandron and Mahto, to his crew and began shouting immediately.

"Back! BACK EVERYONE! Back to my ship! NOW!"

Frantic was the best word to describe his voice, but a stalwart man as his crew immediately set about. Disarmed they had no fear of the prisoners they had taken, and now deserted upon the deck. They were however a tight-knit bunch, and hasted to take up their wounded and their dead. Halsted watched and moved as well, helping this man to his feet, aiding that one who had been cut deeply in the abdomen, continuing to shout for his men to cross back over onto his own ship, off of the Six Bitches. He looked to Zandron and to Mahto, and motioned for them as well, because only when, or if they were in motion would he be as well. Such was the man that was Captain Halsted. Last one off, to make safe his crew. :~