rubyrubyruby

Merrisol's wedge is up against superior numbers in terms of ships and crew, but he still manages to pull off an upset tactical move on the line of Consortium ships. The excellent Captaining and determined way the squadron slices between the enemy formation is super effective. Enemy archers and crossbow are perforated before they have a chance to return effective fire. Men fall over the side as well as very critical deckhands in the rigging. The next enemy to receive a volley on both flanks don't fare any better while they try and track on Merri's squadron. Those not killed outright are forced to keep their heads down. The loss of life is very bad for them, and the passage of the wedge breaks up the enemy formation as they veer off to avoid further assaults. Whatever their plan was, it's been thrown a big wrench.

Boaz and his boarding parties are up against some stiff resistance. The ship they are about to assault is full of foes, and ready themselves for a melee. Without ranged weapons previously depended upon, they're down to hand-held weapons and zeal. It'll be like assaulting a breach. What some call a forlorn hope when trying to overcome castle defenses. Classic courageous and underdog stuff there. The enemy ship's crew starts shouting a song of defiance like they were watching a football match. Egging Boaz and his boarders to dare climb their grappling lines and come into their cutlasses. A louder voice among them, perhaps the Captain, brays out massively, "For your bellies, lads! Slice them! Carve them! Serve them for supper!"

Tearing through their foes, Flame's ships are pummeled by volley after volley, just as they send them in their turn. Stones, some carrying fire, others not, fly thick as hail, some crashing together and plummeting to the sea, others splashing short. Others, however, find their marks, the crunch of wood and cries of the smashed, adding to the din. When it is over and they have broken through, Flame turns her ships with the aid of wind and skill to survey the carnage behind. This time, there was no opportunity for boarding and all attempts of the enemy to board were repelled by the valor and might of captain Shih and her crew working with Flame's own.
In the wake of the Triskillion three and their escourt vessels lies destruction and havok. A ship sinks slowly, lights going out one by one as water reaches lamps. Struggling sailors try to climb up and up as the ship goes down. Another ship still burns from the many ssmall fires started by the firey shot that crashed into it. All are either dead in the water or limping badly enough that they could be seen as no longer a threat.
Looking over the destruction, Flame inhales and squares her shoulders. It is said that in a duel, you fight for your own honor. In a war? You fight for the honor of the Commander. In this war, they fight to give Cibola and this node a blood gift. Gritting her teeth, Flame snaps the spyglass shut. "Send the Tail Spinner to finish off those two, then join us again. We sail for the next targets and I don't want anyone to rally and strike at us from behind." The commands will be relayed. "Oh, and expect refugees from the Duchess once Quinlan is finished there." She hopes.

RPG: Boaz challenges a difficulty of 12. Boaz chooses Force and the gifts BLD-OB, SKL-SF, STY-PI, and SUK-RW. Boaz almost succeeds.

It's only fitting that Clive and his squadron would come into the node in the field of lightning, what with his father's compass having a tendency to point that way. A quick series of strikes around them have the Minosian Selkie looking all about, now reassessing the battlefield in light of this new chaotic element. "Barnaby! Tell the crews below to switch to chain shot and signal to the others to do the same! Form up and let's see how many we can get stuck here!" His spyglass comes out for a quick sweep of the area and then he is leaning in closer to the navigator, shouting out more detailed instructions for the approach. Turning away, he then starts calling out for adjustments to the rigging, basic on their intended direction, the seas ahead, and the wind they are now hoping to tame.

Lightning alley in the north-westerly quadrant is all about those loud booms and spiteful stabs of energy. Some of the time it seems the clouds themselves are pissed at each other, and a squall of blood-hued rain will whirl in an airborne eddy. But when it streaks down towards the ocean, there are few things as inviting as a ship out there. The storm is erratic, but the strikes come faster and closer to the ships underneath to look almost spiteful. The Consortium vessels within that zone are not trying to linger and their Captains are directing them to head for the closest ~border~ where the lightning seems to become less fierce. In other words, heading south and east. There are figurehead ships that make up some of them, and their wooden deities are making faces worse than stone gargoyles. They claw at the water or seem to press themselves even closer against their vessels, using the prows for cover.

Boaz completes his overly large leap from the lower deck of The Wiskers to the higher enemy deck by shoving the first two foes that happen to be in his landing spot. Enhanced strength sending the tough men back and sliding across the deck behind them in a tumble. The stout oak sticks in his hand swipe from left to right, one high one low. Smacking faces and knees alike to clear space for those coming up behind him on the ropes and ladders.
The chanting and taunting from the enemy crew inflames him rather then sends him into an unreasoning rage. The tall Sukho man roars into faces and the chanting. "Want ta cut guts and serve us oop?! BRING IT!"
The croud of enemies starts to surge forward but a overly huge figure forces it's way through. Scarred form with a missing eye and a huge sword that might kind of resemble a cutlass, points the weapon at Boaz in challenge. Boaz gives a grimice-like grin and nods. Without further to do the two charge one another and clash like thunder. The distraction of the challenge giving the sailors behind Boaz just enough time to get foothold and meet the fresh surge of battle.
Boaz blocks and weaves the sticks back and forth like his papa taught him to. The wooden clubs whooshing though the air more easily the the great sword the captian of the vessel is using against him. Chips of the oak sticks fly away as Boaz blocks again and again grunting with each impact.
The enemy captain shouts out with glee as he ripostes and slashes down across Boaz's shoulder, the wound deep and likely to the bone. The pain causing the young captain to roar out in pain but instead of jerking back he drops the stick from the hand on the wounded arm and grabs hold of his foes wrist, trapping the blade where it is and then bashing the scarred man across the temple with his remaining fighting stick. Bone crackles and gore splashes back across nearby combatants as well as Boaz himself as the enemy captain falls to the deck.

With the felling of the big Captain by Boaz, word travels quickly through his men and their determined defense of their deck. Morale drops like the busted brains. The second in command tries valiantly to keep his comrades up and pushing against the boarders, but too many have been allowed up, and their assault proves to be gaining more traction by the blood-spilled moment. More crew drop from the rigging to add to their fellows, but there are now pockets of resistance rather than a wall of defiance. Some of them are tumbled over the side or slip on gore. The second in command tries to lunge forward to take up his Captain's fallen blade and rekindle some morale that's been sorely wounded. The ship itself is incapable of firing upon another vessel while the melee is going on. There's pandemonium as duties are dropped just to try and save their vessel from the hands of Boaz's boarders.

RPG: You ask Maggie for a conflict initiation. You elect to use Wits with Sea Captain (SKL-SC).
RPG: Maggie is being asked to agree to your gift/token usage.
RPG: Maggie has chosen to use the gift FIR-WR (Fire Warrior) in this conflict:
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The character may also wield weapons made of fire. The exact form these weapons take is up to the wielder, and may include weapons that can be thrown as far as the character might throw the appropriate weapon. These weapons are created from thin air, and while they are difficult to parry, they are not particularly substantial, so they can be disrupted by blocking them. They will immediately reform, so the net result is that they can be parried so long as it looks cool.
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RPG: Maggie has chosen to use the gift SKL-OB (Observation) in this conflict:
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This character is an exceptionally acute observer. He notices small details that might elude others, and retains these details in his memory for longer than most people. He is more likely to notice things that are out of place, or which otherwise do not seem right. This character does not have exceptionally keen senses, however (unless he has another gift granting them); it's simply that his mind processes more details than others do. Moreover, the interpretation of these details are subject to what the character knows about (which can be reasonably reflected by lores and the like).
This gift can be used for a bonus in any situation where such observation provides a direct advantage. This explicitly excludes combat. It may be used as a bonus in a contest to see through someone else's disguise (noticing details that are not consonant with the whole).
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RPG: Maggie has chosen to use the gift SKL-SC (Sea Captain) in this conflict:
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This character is an experienced sea captain. When sailing a ship, commanding a naval vessel, leading a fleet action, or fighting on-board a ship, this character receives a bonus.
(For the purposes of gifts that say that they can only be used in conjunction with a gift that describes a weapon skill or fighting style, this gift does not qualify, unless the fight is taking place on board a ship.)
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RPG: Maggie has chosen to use the gift STY-PI (Pirate) in this conflict:
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The character is skilled at fighting onboard ships, so is used to closed quarters, unstable footing and dramatic acrobatics. She is also skilled with weapons appropriate to this - knives, hooks, clubs and smaller swords. Additionally, the character is a skilled sailor with a talent for some of the criminal ends of the enterprise, like smuggling.
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RPG: Maggie has chosen to use the gift WIN-DG (Dramatic Gusts) in this conflict:
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Winds blow in accordance to the character's needs. This does not allow them to whip up hurricanes or the like, but breezes will swirl at their call, scattering papers, snuffing candles and, of course, causing cloaks to billow dramatically. In short, the character may actively incorporate the wind into their poses.
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RPG: Ruby chooses Wits and the gift SKL-SC. Maggie chooses Resolve and the gifts FIR-WR, SKL-OB, SKL-SC, STY-PI, and WIN-DG. This is a battle between Ruby's G1M and Maggie's G2B; Maggie's force has the advantage. The dice strongly favor Maggie. Ruby is at a moderate disadvantage to Maggie, and should take 1 consequence.

RPG: Clive has chosen to use the gift SKL-AD (Admiral) in this conflict:
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This old salt has a long history of command at sea. This character is an experienced sea captain. When sailing a ship, commanding a naval vessel, leading a fleet action, or fighting on-board a ship, this character receives a bonus.
(For the purposes of gifts that say that they can only be used in conjunction with a gift that describes a weapon skill or fighting style, this gift does not qualify, unless the fight is taking place on board a ship.)
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RPG: Clive has chosen to use the gift SKL-MC (Military Commander) in this conflict:
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This character has made a study of military tactics and strategy, and is an experienced military commander. This character receives a bonus when leading a military unit in battle, or in situations where his expertise with military tactics, strategy, or logistics is directly relevant.
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RPG: Clive has chosen to use the gift SKL-SC (Sea Captain) in this conflict:
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This character is an experienced sea captain. When sailing a ship, commanding a naval vessel, leading a fleet action, or fighting on-board a ship, this character receives a bonus.
(For the purposes of gifts that say that they can only be used in conjunction with a gift that describes a weapon skill or fighting style, this gift does not qualify, unless the fight is taking place on board a ship.)
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RPG: Clive has chosen to use the gift STY-PI (Pirate) in this conflict:
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The character is skilled at fighting onboard ships, so is used to closed quarters, unstable footing and dramatic acrobatics. She is also skilled with weapons appropriate to this - knives, hooks, clubs and smaller swords. Additionally, the character is a skilled sailor with a talent for some of the criminal ends of the enterprise, like smuggling.
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RPG: Clive has chosen to use the gift STY-SC (Storm-Charged) in this conflict:
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This character is particularly adept at dealing with bad weather, and has learned to use such environmental misery to his advantage. When performing an activity, including fighting, in the midst of storm, fog, or similar unpleasant weather that would ordinarily be a hindrance, this character gains a bonus.
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RPG: Clive has chosen to use the gift STY-UE (Underestimated) in this conflict:
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This character tends to be underestimated by his opponents. When facing a situation in which the opposition is unaware of his real strength, or when outnumbered or otherwise facing severely uneven odds in someone else's favor, he gains a bonus to his actions.
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RPG: Clive has chosen to consume token G1C in this conflict:
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Author: Ruby Held By: Clive
Date: Wed Jan 2 18:49:53 2019 Focus: 3
Title: The Twins
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Created via Storm Cannons (REC-CN): bonus-token rechargeable special token-3 type-magic unique
Summary: Ship-fitted Minos storm cannons.
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Secondary gift used: Volcano-Forged (REC-VF): epic-craft power-token rechargeable special token-3 type-magic
Summary: Forge things in a volcano
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Token Description
A pair of brass and iron cannons mounted upon nimble truck carriages. For all intents and purposes, the handsome pair of storm cannons is the spitting images of each other. Those familiar with firing and maintaining the weapons might have their own views however. A bit of clever craftsmanship has gone into the dexterous duo so that the carriages can be wheeled about on deck with better mobility than your standard stout lightning guns. This makes angling the weapons less of a cumbersome chore and the carriage comes tethered with toothy chocks to brace before firing. The sacrifice in girth has not diminished the destruction bottled within the cannons. The mingling of true Minosian brass and iron is a marriage of considerable strength and stability, tapering the reinforcement from vent to muzzle. A system of priming and firing resembles a gunpowder variety with firing lever or lanyard mechanism.
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RPG: Consumed Clive's token G1C 'The Twins' for a +3 bonus.
RPG: Ruby chooses Wits and the gift SKL-SC. Clive chooses Force and the gifts SKL-AD, SKL-MC, SKL-SC, STY-PI, STY-SC, and STY-UE. He expends token G1C. This is a battle between Ruby's G0P and Clive's FX5; Clive's force has the advantage. The dice strongly favor Ruby. Ruby is at a small disadvantage to Clive, but does not take a consequence.

The follow-up to the Bedlam's devastating thrust would have involved the spearhead's breaking into two lines to cross past one another and take the enemy with fresh broadside ballistae. The ocean refuses to aid and abet, though, shoving the fleet formation askew, sending one arm dangerously close to a field aglow with dozens of lightning stabs. A battered enemy ship there, now floundering on its side, has survivors swarming the upturned hull, and lobbing harpoons and spears in a last frenzy of defiance; a blinding elemental arc veers that way to dance along the steel poles, leaping and forking down to fry through the doomed to the last man standing. Their erstwhile opponents take the warning to heart and turn sail and rudder away from the deadly edge of that malicious phenomenon.

The other half of Bedlam fares better, slicing up alongside straggling Consortium targets and finishing them off with a second barrage of heavy javelins. With punched hulls, they upturn in a macabre chorus of groans and creaks which almost drown out the human cries of despair. Holding tight to the trysail rigging of the Bedlam, Merrisol watches the wrecks collapse in blooms and geysers of water, his features hard and cold. One enemy sailor clinging to a couple of boards seems spotlit by a guttering torch on the ship he abandoned... then an eddy out of nowhere pushes his raft over and sends him under. Merri turns away and strides to the other side where new ships emerge from the gloom, fleeing the lightning storm. He absently tugs at a jagged chunk of plank buried in his right side, tossing it aside and shouting to the firing squads, "Port side, reload! Direct strikes to their masts and leave them to burn!"

Wort's own captain battle - said captain being a bit of a bruiser himself - goes terribly for that guy. Wort has him cleaved up pretty quickly, crushing the crew's hopes and dreams. There's a few that try to be brave, but they're made swift example of, and Wort practically screams at the helmsman's face, "RAM THIS TUB INTO THAT ONE OVER THERE!" And since the choice is take chances with the sea or with Wort, this is complied with.
This, of course, is all about keeping Wort's target rich environment flowing while taking out some more of the enemy. And so it goes for Wort, his 'cloaks facing the usual attrition of a small crew dying out, while their beastly master rages on with violent madness.

Things are decidedly not playing into the favour of the Consortium. Being dropped into Cibola and dragged through the shadowpath was bad enough. Within the Node they were then dispersed upon a sea that's in the midst of self-hate, gnawing at itself like it was trying to chew off a diseased part of itself. Whirlpools, waterspouts, blood squalls, oh my.
Ruby's ship hasn't fared very well by this point. With her allies either having jumped ship or been cast hither and thither, she's down to her crew and armaments that are GC friendly. After the broadcast to kill'em all and let Cibola sort 'em out, she's ordered the Beast on an intercept course with the nearest Ark being harassed by grappling attempts. Reports back over the R.A.D.I.O. are informative and saturate with shrieking and battle cries. Nothing transmitted has a filter, and the glory and horror come across real clear. On the shifting deck, Ruby straps on the final clasps of her crackin-Kraken armour and hefts a spear. A lookout calls out enemy positions closing in on the Beast, and an extra set of vessels not officially affiliated with either fleet. Ruby yells, "Make for tha bloody Ark! Burn tha sails tah ash if you 'ave tah. Skin tha bastards and use'm tah flap in tha wind if it means more speeeeed! Where's tha deck'and with tha clipped ear?! Get 'em tah me chest!" Ruby lurches to the wheel and hastily makes for the log book to make a final entry. She yells above the gale of sea spray from a nearby twister. "Secure this book! I gots a list 'o names you can deliver it tah in order 'o whatsit. Letters inside are addressed an sealed."

As Flame leads the Triskillon ships under her command, they split into teams. The Tail Spinner leads a squadron back along their prior path to finish any ships still limping along. The Fist and the Treasure lead their teams in what appears to be a modified pinching maneuvar toward another grouping of Consortium ships. Just before arriving, Flame gives the signal to have the ships with Fisk's Fist come about. They begin a coordinated wave pattern of sending firey stones in a long line from the head of the lead ship to the stern of the last. While they keep the enemy occupied, The ships sailing with the Treasure angle closer to cut off retreat or succor.
Watching the battle, Flame draws a bow of fire from the air. Standing tall, she sends arrows of fire crackling toward the ships opposing her fleet.
This time, however, the ships targeted are not caught off guard. Fire is returned as the Fist's fleet draw into place and begin the barrage. Archers on other ships are ordered to fire at the Treasure's trove and arrows, both firey and regular, rain down on the crews. Captain Shih hisses for cover for their own and sailors rush to bring shields forward. The hiss and thunk of metal burrowing into wood adds to the cacophany of battle as the sides come together.

Boaz has enough time to pick up his dropped oak stick, pausing and looking at the second in command that picks up the dead captian's blade. Locking eyes on the man as they both slowly rise from bent forms. Boaz rolls his injured and still bleeding shoulder with a grunt through clenched teeth, jaw working side to side. The combat on deck is hot and heavy around the two as they start a slow circle of each other until finally Boaz spits to the side. "Oi. You gonna come at meh noaw or are ya still enjoy'n da view?"
The second in command grins and steps forward and then lunges seeking to catch the larger man off guard. Boaz's good arm sweeps about faster then before, the blunt point of the stick catching the other man under the ribcage and lifting him from his feet. Boaz heaves and sends the man screaming over the side and into the dark swirling sea.
Boaz sucks in a breath and takes stock of the battle as it stands, kicking a knee of an attacker that gets to close and bending it backwards with a snap and a scream. "PUSH'M OVA-BOARD!"

Quinlan has landed on the Duchess, which is in a bad way. The damaged ship will definitely go down, it's just a matter of how and how soon. The crew, when Quinlan finds them, are spilling lamp oil and tar on every surface they can find, to turn the ship into a flaming specter to aim at the enemy ships. Which Quinlan can help with, certainly, but first there's the matter of getting the crew clear.

Quinlan does unconventional kind of a lot. The mast is already snapped. He uses his magic to break the spars into useful floatation devices. The crew are instructed to take some rope overboard with them, to tie themselves (loosely) to the spars. Once the fireship is in motion Quinlan will come back for them - if nobody else has first.

Streaks of horizontal lightning erupt from the deck of the Chimera as Clive drops his cutlass, but those two fearsome Storm Cannons are the only voices singing as powder fails to spark down below. The Selkie's eyes widen in surprise as he looks down and then begins to let out a long string of expletives that compete with the lightning to strip the paint from the nearby metal-hulled ships. Their return fire is prompt and whithering, but the Chimera presses on with her attack, undaunted. Gripping the railing, Clive digs in deep and calls out with the voice that all of the blood of storms possess, "Prepare for boarding! Ready the grappling hooks! Bring us alongside!" More of the patchwork of metal plates about the waterline take hits in ways they hadn't been designed to. One by one, they begin to loosen and splash down into the Deep, ending the Chimera's brief stint as an ice-worthy vessel. Behind her, the other ships in the modest line are having better luck with their more varied armament. Ballistas and other shadow artillery spring to life, doing what they can to dissuade the more numerous Consortium vessels from their current path. No major hits are scored, but they have, for now, held the much larger force at bay and secured better positioning, keeping a fair number boxed in and unable to fire on them directly.

The seas of Cibola are full of horrible things, but they're not ungrateful for the fresh deliveries. They show gratitude in not being languid in snapping them up. Gnashing things that rend and tear. Sometimes they lose a tooth on timber, but more often than not they zero on the bobbing ~and~ thrashing or bleeding things. Packs of things with fins carve through the water and curve towards meals. Larger predators get so worked up at the buffet around certain vessels that they charge in at the damaged hulls to scare off lesser critters, and wind up doing a Moby Dick. They don't come out unscathed over such collisions, and a mad cycle of moonchtime plays out in numerous locales.

Fire is still the biggest fear of most Sailors, and it is so plentiful here that it invokes fierce cries of panic and alarm where things ignite. Ships on fire have to devote some attention if they have any hope of staying afloat. The rain and blood-hued fluids dappling down aren't assisting the conventional and magical fire that is touched off. The exchange back and forth of ranged fire is as heated as they come. A ramshackle formation of the Consortium is fighting as much to stay afloat as get into formation to provide an organized defense. What appears to be happening is a congealing of similar ships along a particular theme: Before the pattern walk there were formations that drew together an assortment of vessels/troops from different factions...and this has disrupted badly. Now in their darkest hour, the fractitious nature of the Consortium is a great weakness as they think they can depend more upon their own rather than allies that share a goal with.

Not allowing ships to easily flee the terrible lightning strikes is highly effective as well. On top of reducing their ability to manuever or leave at speed means more chances of lucky strikes, which do happen. The floundering vessels with reduced sails and masts can only hope to break out oars and use what canvas is left to them. One by one they suffer more salvos of lightning or heavy ballistae smashing into their hulls and making savage passages across decking. There are apparently no storm orbs among the Consortium, or they've been blown to ever-loving bits by aiming high into the masts. Ships alight through lightning or fire are swerved away from by their comrades as best they can. The illumination and heat they put out is intense.

The reduced pockets of Consortium fleets are getting the hint. In other quadrants they may still be harassing the Arks, fending off creatures and navigating around unnatural hazards, but they've scored victories against Ruby's mustered vessels and small brushfire engagements with isolated ships. But not all are willing to have a phyrric victory and are seeking to disengage. Sorcerors of their own are commanding what elements they can to preserve and create their own fog of war. And absolutely abandoning their fellow Consortium to their fates.

Scattered over a seemingly insurmountable expanse of writhing sea, the ships under Bedlam's command fight with the winds to regroup, crashing through the buoyant remains of the Consortium ships of that sector. Fed with hundreds of lost and drowned souls, the deeps reveal themselves fleetingly in spectral expulsions of energy, drawing the fevered attention of those still clinging to life and sanity on surviving ships. There's an allure to those silent, distant flashes, a promise of escape from this hellish pandemonium. How fortunate are those who have already departed for the stillness of final oblivion. Stalking along the main deck, Merrisol finds more than one mesmerized sailor to shake by the scruff before they manage to slither over the broken rails and into the grasping waves. He knows better, and not only of the heartless wrath of this Sea. The feral gullets of her monstrous denizens are broadcast to him through the opaque lather of the waves. He returns to the R.A.D.I.O. post: "Goldfort, relay! This is Captain Merrisol aboard the Bedlam! Captains, refresh your crews! We have reefs dead ahead, rendezvous at those rock formations, we'll make a break through the lightning for the main fleet!" At least, some of it. His ring knows the way.

Lightning flashes, turning the air momentarily blue-white. It licks the clouds, dancing from one to the other, outlining their roiling masses in flickering light. Battle rages, as these Consortium ships and their crews are better prepared than the first hapless targets for Flame's posse. This time, ships trade shot from trebuchet, slings and yes, even arrows. Wood crunches, people scream and are silenced. Borders begin to fling ropes to gain purchase. Some are hacked away, but others make their shots, seeking to draw ships closer together. On the Treasure, captain Shih sends her sailors to defend the railing, alternating between hoisting shields to protect the gunners from arrows and patroling the railings. It is likely that without their valliant efforts, the Treasure would suffer far more grievous wounds than she does. Up on the forecastle, Flame continues her barrage of fire arrows aimed to weaken masts, eliminate sails and cut down enemy officers where she can find them. Of course, she is also vulnerable there, so she is not left unscathed. Chips of wood or flecks of metal skitter from wounds to the ship to impale its Captain. So far, though, these have been relatively minor, only causing some bleeding. The dancing globe of flame from her ring brightens just a bit, wending in a specific direction. It is a hint, a knowing, but Flame is concentrating on ending this as soon as possible and only holds the joy that movement brings deep in her heart for now.