Sink That Ship

 

[Brannon(#31271)] 

Night has fallen, though the sun's violet residue still lingers in the distant West long-since abandoned by the living remembrances of mortal Men. The dark waves of the Bay of Umbar, made darker still by the coming of the darkness, lap beneath the unrelenting caress of the strong desert winds blowing out from the Haradwaith in the East. Portent is writ in the wind.

From the port of Caldur, silent and eerie beneath the white banners of Dol Amroth, a lone ship slips out under the cover of the newly-birthed evening-- a sleek warship of the Swan-fleet of Gondor, unusual only in that it is black-sailed and wolf-prowed. The Draugris. Following it comes another vessel, raven-sailed and wolf-prowed as the other.

Together, the Amrothian vessels pass south, before turning west... where the Bay of Umbar opens up into the great ocean.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

Sitting just below the horizon, the Arambodh floats slowly along the coast. Lightless, men sit from each of the spines that lift up the great webbed sails of the dromund. The three score more sit at the oars, another at the riggings of the sails ready to bend the winds to their will blades hang from the sides of all.

Yildirim paces along rails and near the rudder, eyes scanning the waters towards Caldur, "We have missed them. We must have," he says to none in particular.

"It has been too long."

 

The slender figure of a woman stands at the Arambodh's tiller, keeping it on its languid course out of Caldur's direct sight. "They will not come all at once, Captain," Nisrin says quietly, frowning across the dark waves. "Rather, they resort to trickery at the most perilous of times. Perhaps they sail even now, under night's cover."

[Brannon(#31271)] 

The Draughir and its companion angle around so that they might pass to the southwest-- seemingly, its Captain would seek to break through the Southron's line at its outermost point before angling back around towards the Bay of Belfalas. Nonetheless, the two black-sailed Gondorian vessel cling closely to each other, lightlessly and voicelessly ploughing through the protesting waves of the Bay of Umbar. Occasionally a beam of unfettered moonlight hits mast or a prow.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

"We should be closer, quite a bit so, to keep them trapped. But I want them to send for help, to have that hope," an unseen smile curls on his lips, "And then snatch it from them."

His eyes narrow at the sea, motioning for Nisrin to the southwest, "Change course to this mark..." he says with hesitation. He moves to Nisrin's side, taking the spyglass laid there and scanning the darkening horizon once more, "Gulls and some dead sea beast I'm sure..." though there is an excitement held back in his voice.

"There is not the reek of flesh nor the gull's cry," answers Nisrin, her lips curving in like prospect. She shifts the tiller, and the rudder obeys, casting up deep ripples as the direction changes.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

Still the shadowed Gondorian vessels plough on. The wind gradually lessens as the violet in the West fades into oblivion and night completes itself, but still they move onwards, almost creaking with eagerness to leave the fenced waters of the Bay for the trackless waves of Belegaer.

As a high wave batters their brow, a large crack is heard-- the heavy waters impacting upon the brow of the Draughir and sending a high spray into the night.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

"Hold that mark!"

Yildirim lowers the spyglass, running to Nisrin's side, pointing towards the sound, "Straight down that line."

A dash then to the first mate, with a whispered shout, "Set the sails, have the men begin to row. Full speed!" The ship quickly goes into action wordlessly, only the sound of riggings sliding and the rhythmic dipping of oars into the sea.

"Yes, sir," comes Nisrin's quiet laugh, and there is the slide of wood and the swish of water over rudder as the ship holds its course, with the dark shapes of men quietly stirred into action.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

It would seem the two Gondorian ships remain ignorant of the Corsair's vigil-- they continue straight ahead towards the open waters, all sails angled to catch as much of the dying evening wind as they can. Nearer, now.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

"It is large," Yildirim comments, "They are bold to send such a ship out. Maybe thrice our numbers or more."

The Arambodh cuts through the water as swiftly as any ship, as is her design, but as Yildirim looks over the crew, the realities of a large Gondorian war party against his crew show plainly on his face, "Well, Lady Nisrin, I suppose no statue will be built of us if we turn back now. What say you?"

"How generous!"

Nisrin smiles faintly, her knuckles tight upon the tiller. "Captain, it is our duty and our bounty to run them down! Already they show that their livers are as lily-white as their skins. But their blood shall run red."

[Brannon(#31271)] 

The indistinct shadows of the Gondorian vessels come into partial focus... They are proud warships, yes, but still bearing damage from their previous skirmishes with Southron patrols. And their crew? Only a handful can be seen scurrying about their decks a very modest crew for the Draughir, and little more than a skeleton for its companion.

And their captain? On the low forecastle of the Draughir, a wolf-helmed Swan-Knight clad in black, green and grey.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

A smile from Yildirim, "If you insist then. Pull us alongside the ship as you may, Lady. When they are hooked, I would be quite delighted if you would join me."

He then walks towards the rowers, taking a score of them, and lining the rails, hooks at the ready, blades in hand. He blinks away the night as the ships come into focus, then they widen, as do the eyes of every man on the rail.

"There's... two of them...."

Yildirim curses, as they approach the Draughir's heading.

 

"It would be my pleasure as well," replies the girl with a flashing smile, and then turns her focus entirely to guiding the prow towards the black-sailed Gondorian ships. Two of them, now Nisrin's brow creases in concentration, and she looks once to Yildirim, querying orders silently.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

A startled cry is heard from the Draughir Gondorian eyes have finally pierced the darkness and beheld the Corsair ship now menacing them.

But what of the Draughir's companion? The ship speeds on, for it seems that they are not brother-vessels out for battle, but blockade runners hoping to buy each other time to escape. And so the Draughir's companion slips onwards into the night, while the Draughir itself is steadily encroached by the Arambodh.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

"Sounds the horns!" Yildirim cries out as voices break through the darkness, "Hold steady on this one. We shall board it, slay the crew and catch the other before they can escape!" And even though his voice seems to believe that hope, the sigh that follows his orders betrays his doubt.

 

There is no spoken reply from the helmsman -- only the swift and sure leaning of the Arambodh as it speeds towards its prey, and the humming of taut rigging and stretched sail, and the deep throaty call of horns finally declaring their presence.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

The Draughir tries to unrun the Arambodh in vain, but it has not a galley filled with oarsmen nor a whole crew to optimise its governance of the wind. It twists against the waves, as if it might slip away from the Corsairs, but still it is gained upon.

And the other? The Black Swan -- for so such can be discerned from its prow and its sails -- fades off into the night, forsaking its brother-ship as it speeds on towards Gondor.

The Asgar sails up from the northwest.

The Asgar has arrived.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

The horns bellow out into the darkness, then again, a cry for the ships of Harad to sail to, an unspoken sound that the Arambodh may not succeed alone. Regardless the ship catch the Draughir and the hooks fly from the rails, and the two butt against each other and then apart again as the ropes are tightened. Men jump from the rails, using the ropes and the opposing ships' rails to latch onto with their landing.

Of these, Yildirim is near the first to touch the deck of the opposing ship his eyes searching for a leader.

 

The Arambodh's oars are drawn in on the side, so that they are not shorn off as the two ships' sides come near to each other. Nisrin stays at the helm, tending the tiller as the deck sways and surges, the hooks having been cast out. She does not yet join the rest of the crew, but her scimitar is ready to wake at her side.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

A paltry crew of Gondorians rush to meet the Corsairs no more than a few dozen sailors, two Squires, and the lone Swan-Knight who appears to be their captain. The Swan-Fleet is stretched thin indeed.

And that Swan-Knight? He watches the battle from the forecastle, blade in hand and wolf-helm donned.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

Again the horns of the the Arambodh sound mixed in with the cries of its crew as dozens take to the deck, the crew seemingly easily outnumbered. Yildirim breaths deep and jogs towards the forecastle, the reflections dancing from an eight-pointed star on his breast glinting with the moon's light.

"You buy no time for the other ship, only delay the end, friend!"

 

The Draughir is boarded: the Arambodh sways gently by it, fastened to its side with hooks like fangs. And among the cries of the boarding crew is the high, girlish laugh of Nisrin, her eyes flashing as she plies her blade.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

The Swan-Knight does not speak in answer. But nor does he ignore the challenge. Slowly, he descends from above, drawing his blade. Only dark grey eyes glint in answer from behind the lupine facade of his helm. Reaching the deck, he wordlessly awaits the Corsair's attack, even as his sailors scream and die about him.

[Seregarth(#19338)]

 There is another ship upon the seas, though this one comes from the north. Long and narrow, cutting through the water like a blade, it sails southwards. No ship of Umbar, this, but one of proud Gondor. And this particular ship is the Asgar.

Her captain, Seregarth Telumehtar, stands upon the quarter deck in fighting kit, watching silently as the crew go about the business of sailing the ship in the darkness.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

"A single Knight? Another such as you on your sister ship?" Yildirim questions, blade cutting out towards the Knight unceremoniously, "So near the edge are you?"

Yildirim attacks Brannon with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Nisrin's small height puts her to advantage, as many sailors are simply not accustomed to swinging across at chest height! Retaliating fiercely as a wild-cat, the girl casts a wary eye ever so often to the forecastle, and begins to push in that direction.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

The Swan-Knight is staggered by the blow, which tears a long gash in his armoured side. Blood flows, but this seems to be a man blessed with potent blood... or at least a fell constitution. Even as he stumbles in surprise, he retaliates beneath the passionless gaze of the wolf-helm, the Amrothian blade seeks out Yildirim's neck.

Brannon attacks Yildirim with his Scimitar, but Yildirim parries the attack with his shield!

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

He finds but his shield, as Yildirim raises it, deflecting the blow, "Perhaps the Bragollach is on the other ship? You have not his eyes. If he is, perhaps I shall take you prisoner," he asks, blade cutting out into the darkness between the two men again.

Yildirim attacks Brannon with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

[Seregarth(#19338)]

 Two ships close together in the star and moonlight attract the attention of those on the seas, and so it is with Seregarth when the watch gives it's cry... to say nothing of news, perhaps, received from other sources. Sharp commands are given, and the Asgar now heads towards the battle, its shipboard weapons being readied and drums rolling for the soldiers.

 

Nisrin is at the steps leading up to the foc'sle now, slipping into a shadowed corner there, a swift blade flashes towards all those who might venture upwards.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

Having recovered his footing, the silent Swan-Knight expertise is soon on display in spite of his bleeding side too-nimble feet carry him wide of Yildirim's swipe. But he does not linger. A shield bearing the Pillar of House Tarikhor is shoved at the Corsair's face, while a blade comes in from under to try and gut the Arambodh's commander.

Brannon attacks Yildirim with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

The tip of the Knight's blade catches Yildirim's side and his wince is more than warrants such a wound. The horns sound again, and with them cries of a ship to the North, "Our friends approach," the Corsair says between clenched teeth, "Your time for mercy dwindles." Again he attacks.

Yildirim attacks Brannon with his Scimitar, but Brannon parries the attack with his Scimitar!

 

Nisrin's small shape appears at the Knight's flank, and her blade, wielded in both hands without a shield, swings in an attempt to aggravate the already-wide wound in his side a dark gaze darts to Yildirim at the news of an approaching ship.

You blindly attack Brannon with your Scimitar...

Your attack against Brannon lightly wounds him!

[Seregarth(#19338)]

 The war horns of Gondor certainly prove that the approaching ship is no Corsair, nor the ship's lines when it is close enough. Seregarth gives crisp commands to bring the Asgar to the fight as quick as possible, bowmen climing the rigging and boarding pikes and axes being passed around amongst the crew.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

The Swan-Knight deflects Yildirim's blade with a twist of his own, yet as he moves to answer a blow from behind staggers him though little more than a flesh wound, the commander of the Draughir now finds himself stuck between two foes.

With a frantic, strong gesture, the Swan-Knight levels a downward slash at Yildirim's chest, while trying to back towards the railing so that both his opponents are before him. A single sideways glance is given as the Gondorians cry "The Asgar! She is come." What few of them remain.

Brannon attacks Yildirim with his Scimitar, but he misses by an arm's length.

[(#24191)] The black of the Corsair's leathers hide the distance between the pair and the blade swings harmlessly in the air.

"(Haradaic) A mumakil whore's luck," he mutters, blade sweeping in front of him again cutting only air. His own blade pushes straight towards the Knight's chest, a shot for where his heart should lay.

Yildirim attacks Brannon with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

"Sir," Nisrin asks, her voice verging on politeness, "would you rather end up dead upon your ship, or overboard it?" She smiles, gesturing with one hand to the railing, and then likewise stabs forward at the Knight.

You blindly attack Brannon with your Scimitar...

Brannon dodges your attack.

[Seregarth(#19338)]

 Swiftly, the Asgar cuts through the water seperating it from the other ships, and soon enough it is quite close close enough for a few ranging arrows to be fired. Seregarth, drawing his blade from its scabbard and accepting his shield from a seaman, steps down from the quarter deck and onto the main deck.

"Your salvation is come, Men of Dol Amroth," shouts the Telumehtar across the water, though the voice is flat, stripped of any emotion that might usually go with the words.

[(#31271)] The Swan-Knight grunts as he is struck, though Yildirim's blade misses its mark and strikes instead upon right, cutting through several chain links and drawing yet more blood. "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)" he intones direly, the first time he has spoken, though this time in the tongue of Numenor.

As Nisrin's blade misses its mark completely, the Swan-Knight slashes back at her, a wild blow that betrays the slightest growth of desperation. Still he backpedals, now towards where the Asrad has come nigh to the Draughir. He gives no orders, not even to those of his crew who still live.

Brannon attacks you with his Scimitar!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 22 hp's by Brannon's attack...

...you have 61 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

[(#24191)] "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)" something in the Knight's voice catches him off-guard, but he presses on the Knight nonetheless. Yildirim advances on the Knight for every step he takes back, even as Gondorian arrows land with dull thuds around him, and their blades draw ever nearer.

Yildirim attacks Brannon with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Where the Knight and the Corsair-captain press towards the railing, Nisrin falls back, gritting her teeth against the wound that has punched through leather into her gut. She does not fall, however, but lunges forward, a failing grip thrust towards the desperate Gondorian.

You feign an attack against Brannon with your Scimitar...

Brannon dodges your attack.

[Seregarth(#19338)]

 The arrows come thicker and faster as the Asgar closes, and her sailors and detachment from the Hosts form up near the rails, ready to charge into the fray the moment they can... which is likely quite soon little distance seperates the warship from the others now. Seregarth stands behind the first wave, eyes flicking about to take in the expected opposition.

[Brannon(#31271)] 

Blades clash arrows whizz Corsairs and Amrothian sailors cry out. So does the Swan-Knight, for Yildirim's blow catches him on the side of the head, near enough that were he without his wolf-helm his life would surely be ended. There is a mighty crack as the scimitar's curved edge splits Gondorian steel asunder, the lupine mask ruined. And for the briefest moment, there is a half-glimpse of the Swan-Knight's blurry visage... bloodied, obscured by shadow and broken metal and damp hair...

...Then the glimpse is gone. Despite the wounds dealt, the Swan-Knight turns towards the Asgar, and hurling his sword and shield straight at Yildirim and Nisrin -- a gesture not meant to wound, merely delay -- he turns and takes a mighty leap onto the railing, and then, a mightier one across the intervening space.

With a dull thud, the Swan-Knight lands in an unmoving heap on the Asgar's deck. The Draughir is left to its fate, save for the one or two crewmen who succeed in emulating their commander's escape.

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

Yildirim gives a glance for the deck of the Gondorian ship, then one for Nisrin. Another for the deck and turns and scoops the girl into his arms. "Cut us away! Cut the hooks!" One by one, loud twangs sound as the grapples are cut free, both boats creaking with the chance of freedom from one another. Yildirim is not so strong as to bear the girl and his blade, so it clatters behind him, but the cool wetness of her blood urges him on as his feet climb the rails and then over, a jump back onto the deck of the Arambodh, "To the oars! To the oars! Lower the sails! Corsairs, watch the rails! Prepare to be boarded!"

Nisrin hears only a clatter of a dropped blade -- the cool oblivion of night sea-air and thrumming arrows overhead -- and she strives to push away from the other's hold, raising her head to see the deck. "So the ship was not one of ours," the girl murmurs. "It is not over," and bewildered, slips into darkness.

[Seregarth(#19338)]

 "Get those men below to the surgeon!" Orders Seregarth sharply as the Knight and crewmen make their leaps the youngest sailors hasten to comply, one running to throw open a hatch and all but slide down the ladder, no doubt to inform said surgeon.

That done, the Telumehtar Captain does not seem entirely eager to close for a boarding action, and his next orders confirm it. "Archers, maintain fire! Helm, get us clear I want free lines of shot against them! Ready ballistae!"

[Yildirim(#24191)] 

A horn sounds from the south, matching that of the Arambodh's, reinforcements from the Haradrim surely. Then another to the east. Yildirim leaves Nisrin where she lies, stopping at the nearest man on the oars and taking his blade. He soon finds himself at the rails as well, his Haradaic curses coming without end under his breath.

Lights appear on the seas near where the sound of the two horns called out lamps surely being lit for the coming battle. The crew of the Arambodh do their jobs well, but it is a new crew and the Asgar and their bows and pole-arms slow their work thus the Asgar begins to pull away.

[(#31271)] As crewmembers on the Asgar rush to move the Swan-Knight below deck, his eyes flutter open and he briefly regains consciousness as he is hoisted up. Weakly, the Knight -- Brannon Tarikhor, Captain of the Draugrim, or so his face might be marked -- lifts his head, and he shouts in a voice of surprising strength and power for all his wounds:

"(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)"

And then his strength fails and darkness takes him.

[Seregarth(#19338)]

 At the horns from south and east, Seregarth's head snaps about, eyes narrowing beneath his helm. "Helm: get us clear and take us north! Full sail, and out the oars! They have not seen the last of us, Asgar." He turns, then, to one of his lieutenants, and when he next speaks his voice is flat once more.

"Sink that ship. It shall not be used against Gondor." The lieutenant gives a slight nod, and relays the orders. The aim of ballistae is adjusted and the mighty bolts are released, slamming into the hull of the Draughir at the waterline.