Tales of Rum and Ruin (NS Project members only)

[Shark Bay]

The Kingdom of Avalon was once a part of the Riket, the smallest and southernmost of the empire’s kingdoms, primarily focused on sea-trade as well as waging conflicts with Cordova, eventually Avalon began to fall out of favor with the greater Riket and relations eventually soured to the point that, according to some, the Elector Counts voted to remove the kingdom from the Riket, while others claim that King Edric I supposedly left the Riket of his own accord, becoming an independent kingdom.

For many years after, Avalon’s smaller navy began to harass sea-lanes belonging to Cordova and the Kingdoms of the Riket, as well as continuing to purge the Cordovan Heathens. Or atleast that’s what the people of Avalon were told. In reality, Back home these conflicts stretched Avalon’s military to its limits, and the economic loss of trade with the rest of the empire caused nationwide poverty and dissent among the peoples. As the situation grew more desperate, Shortly after taking the throne, King Edric II established the penal island colony of Shark Bay island and began shipping the loudest of the voices of dissent there, working the lumber yards and plantations. Eventually most of the kingdom’s labor was forced, either on the island or the privileged few holding control over the less fortunate. Yet this only hushed the voices for a time, the people too beaten and weak to rebel, or those few rebellious souls being too far away to do anything.

Atleast until the uprising.

According to rumors, Roger Ward had become so overwhelmed with rage against the crown that it spread like wild fire among his fellow prisoners. During one bloody night, after a fresh shipment of new prisoners were dropped off, Roger Ward caused a riot that grew too much for the guards. Seizing the fort, Roger’s men fired the cannons at some of the fleeing ships, sinking them, before capturing the vessels still anchored at the docks and making a speedy return home to the capital and port city of Havenport. With the Royal Navy either at sea or badly damaged from past conflicts, Roger and his rogue fleet made their landing unopposed, inciting even more chaos and riots in the streets as the crown failed to repel the invading revolutionaries.

Those that were loyal to the crown were quickly put to the sword or chased out into the wilds, while those that harbored no love for the king quickly took up their torches and pitchforks. The castle was stormed and most of the nobility had been captured, but the King, Edric III escaped with his few remaining loyal servants into the wilds. As the fires of the revolution still burned, Roger himself declared the kingdom of Avalon would be no more, and that the Brethren of Shark Bay would become the new leadership of the kingdom. Hosting a great trial of every captured noble, merchant, and tyrant that still lived, Roger would read out the crimes of the convicted and would simply ask the crowds ‘Live or Die?’. And so it came to be the end of several noble bloodlines, as land lords and cruel masters swung by their necks alongside the long rotten corpses of those that dared speak against them, signs attached to them saying “Thus Always To Tyrants, Ye Be Warned”.

After the revolution ended, Roger and his men began to celebrate and then reorganize and rebuild, attempting to solidify the foundations of their newfound republic. Shortly thereafter, a freshly built black fleet of ships led by one Captain Katla, the Bloody Baroness, arrived and struck a deal with Roger: Shelter, Supplies, and Fair trade in return for joining and defending the nascent Pirate republic. And after a few months, a Cordovan ship would soon join the growing republic, a clever first mate and lover of the ship’s captain offering up her logistical expertise to the rebuilding efforts.

It would seem that nothing could stop the rise of the Brethren’s republic. But unfortunately, that was not the case.

The king still lived and his loyal servants had not only organized and made several raids against the disorganized pirates, stealing supplies and weapons, but before they escaped the castle, the King managed to snatch a valuable treasure, worth a king’s ransom several times over, And word has recently reached Roger’s ear that the King is desperate to take back his throne and is willing to sell this relic in exchange for an army to reclaim his kingdom, rumors say the king himself is even willing to bend the knee and return to the Riket, or serve beneath his kingdom’s savior.

As long as all the disloyal Pirates were killed, there was no price he was not willing to pay…

OOC: Y’all know the drill.
NS Project members only, if you’d like to participate, Feel free to Tele Verschwald to join!

[Verschwald]

“Scum.” The backhand knocked the bound and bloodied pirate to the deck, before rough hands seized him, pulling him back to his feet. “I shall ask you again.”
The man questioning him stepped closer, pulling the pirate's face up to stare into his eyes. “Where were you during the sack of Havenport? Were you there for the executions?” The pirate’s only answer was a hostile stare, and, clearly dissatisfied with this, his captor drew back, hand dropping to the long knife at his belt. “So be it. As my sister would have wished it, I grant you a quick death. Far quicker than your ilk deserve after what you did.”

---

The pirate - name unknown - was dropped from the side of the ship into the waters of the Drangsalmeer, dead from blood loss and a sliced throat before he hit the water. His erstwhile captor - a Waldherr, or Baron, of the Verschwald, named Rainer von Endau, considered the uncharacteristically calm sea, before turning back to matters at hand. His first prize had been the pirate captain, who had been decidedly not useful. His second, on the other hand, would prove more so.
The action had been chaotic, but successful. When the pirate vessel - a hulk, gifted both in maneuverability and that it carried a pair of cast-iron kanone in it’s forecastle - came across his own vessel, Eliza’s Lament, itself a cog of some 120 tons, it’s captain had fancied it an easy target. Von Endau and his thirty men, concealed in the hold, had swiftly disabused them of that notion once they came alongside to board the Lament. For the loss of few of his own - far fewer than he had expected, truth be told, given that many of them had been little more than fishermen before this voyage - they had seized the pirate vessel, and now his expedition had a warship to call their own. The hulk’s own hold had been disappointingly empty - clearly fresh to their own journey. No matter. He would take it for his own, and scour the sea of any pirate between him and those who had hung up his sister for the crime of marrying the wrong man.

Vengeance, he would name this new prize. It seemed fitting.

From here, he would sail back to Endau, to take on fresh supplies and replacement fighters. If necessary, every fisherman or sailor in his town would be recruited, and damn the consequences. Anyone with skill at arms or sea. And if they asked for pay, then perhaps King Edric would pay. Every dead pirate would bring the man closer to his abandoned throne, after all.

[Caliphate of Cordova]

Port Sinbad, a free town on the remote island of Serendib, evening

The port was a bustle of activity this evening as ships from all over came to trade goods, none acquired by legal means, outside the jurisdiction of any government. The island itself was located at the edge of the Sea of Tribulation, about half-way between the Caliphate of Córdova and the remains of the fallen realm of Avalon. The town was founded some forty years ago by rogue traders of Córdova, discontent with the embargo on Avalonian goods enacted by the old Caliph at that time. So they established a place to secretly conduct their illegal business and named it after the sea-faring legend of their myths who inspired not just a few young Córdovans to a life of adventure on the rolling waters. When Avalon collapsed, the port continued to be used by those for whom the freedom of the sea was an authority above all others. Its importance had certainly waned with the rise of the haven of Shark Bay, but it nonetheless served as a convenient waypoint for buccaneers and pirates needing to resupply, offload goods to unscrupulous buyers, and recruit new sailors to their ranks.

This particular evening, the sun low in the western sky and the evening winds delivering salty moisture to the sandy shore, Zarif Sahimi stood on the docks, a smile on his face as a handshake cemented the deal to sell his cargo to the captain of a Confederate merc ship. It was too bad half the cargo of the Córdovan clipper was lost when they made the foolish attempt to run from the Prancing Ibex, forcing Zarif to fire cannons which opened holes in the cargo ship’s hull, waterlogging the aft compartment and ruining crates of fine silk, honey and ground spices they were carrying. Still, the cargo they were able to salvage was well worth the pursuit. Zarif turned his good eye to his quartermaster, ordering him to see to the delivery and collection of payment.

That business ended, he bade farewell to the merc captain and walked down the wood planked walkway along the docks toward the commercial center of the small town. As he passed, he looked out at the harbor, noting the plethora of ships laying at rest. The smaller sailing ships could find mooring at the docks proper, but the larger vessels lay at anchor in the harbor, skiffs rowing back and forth between the wooden giants and the dock. He spotted a number of Córdovan and Confederate ships, as usual, a couple others with banners from Verschwald, and even a brig with what he has learned was a banner from far off Drakland, a growing presence on the periphery of the Caliphate. He also, with pride, spotted the Prancing Ibex, peacefully at berth at one end of one the gangways that led to the deeper parts of the harbor. His first mate, lover and “sea wife” as he liked to call her, Fatema, would be there, seeing to the re-provisioning and recruitment of new sailors. The Ibex was not nearly as large as its companions in the Brethren, but nor was it particularly small, either. Despite its relative size, It was still well gunned and without doubt the fastest ship pirating these waters. Zarif walked on and then caught a glance at a cutter laying at rest and moored to another dock with the banner of the personal fleet of Captain Roger Ward. Now why would he send a ship here? Zarif thought to himself, intrigued.

He arrived at the grouping of buildings that formed the main business and commercial district, such as it was, of Port Sinbad. With a sigh of relief for the end of a long day of negotiating deals and agreements with other captains, Zarif entered an alehouse and sat a bit wearily at an unpolished wooded table near the bar. Although he and his crew no longer served the Caliph, he encouraged his crew to continue to follow their Fahum religion “as however guided by their conscience”. Although this included a prohibition on strong drink, many decided to take advantage of the Caliph’s edict to ease the restriction and allow the consumption of spiced wine, a very profitable export of Cordova.

He was served a cup and sat alone with his thoughts for a while, observing the lively scene of Confederate mercs merrily hoisting cups, fellow Cordovans, more soberly in animated conversations, and others from various locales finding comfort in the evening’s starting revelry. A troupe of musicians were getting ready to entertain the crowd with, no doubt, a rendition of sea shanties.

After a time, a smile cracked wide upon Zarif’s scarred face as Fatema entered the alehouse, looked around and returned a rosy smile upon spotting Zarif, joining him at the table with a tonguey kiss.
“So, first mate, are we fit for sail?” he asked with faux formality.

She beamed back at him, playing the game, “Aye, captain, stores are replenished, guns cleaned and seven new sailors signing-on to replace those lost or deserted.”

“Excellent”, Zarif replied, and they continued to discuss ship matters for a while until they were interrupted by the presence of a lanky man standing wordlessly at the table, hat in hand. The arrival was silent, waiting to be acknowledged, it seemed. Slowly becoming aware of the stranger, Zarif turned his gaze to appraise the man, hand moving to the hilt of his cutlass, just in case violence was on the man’s mind. He caught the man staring a bit fearfully at his eyepatch and burn scars, giving Zarif a slight amount of glee. He had become a bit of an enigma to those who heard tales of the captain of the Prancing Ibex, his harsh countenance at odds with his reputation to be fair minded and even-tempered.

“For-forgive the intrusion, Captain Sahimi” the man began when Zarif acknowledged him. “My name is Hans Arnoldsson. I was sent by Captain Ward to find you here and deliver a message.”

At the mention of Roger Ward’s name, a worried look crossed Zarif’s face and he exchanged glances with Fatema then beckoned the man to sit and explain.

“There’s been some trouble, you see.”

“What kind of trouble?” Zarif asked suspiciously

“There is this Baron, from Verschwald, name of von Endau, who has been hunting us pirates. He has some sort of grudge, it seems, I’m not sure what about.”

“Huh, must have had some ties to the old Avalonian regime, I imagine. There were some close ties between their nobles, I recall. So why can’t good Captain Roger handle this Baron himself?”

“Well, sir, this Baron has been capturing some ships and has got himself a bit of a fleet built up.”

“Hah, so he is pirating pirates. Ironic.” Zarif quipped.

Ignoring the remark, Hans continued, “We be used to doing the chasing, not being chased. It ain’t proper for we pirates to be showing our aft. Captain Ward is calling for the Brethren Court to meet and asks you to join him as soon as you can.”

With an exasperated sigh, Zarif rolled his eye and looked over at Fatema, who had not yet shown any reaction. “Ugh, do we have to, Ema?” he asked, using her short name.

Fatema glanced at her lover then set her eyes back on Hans, expressionless. “That is the pledge we made, dear. To come to each other’s aid in time of need and specifically to defend Shark Bay.”

Zarif made a protesting groan, “Ack, fine, we’ll go, but YOU do the talking.”

Fatema’s mood softened and she turned back to Zarif, “You are the captain, you know. It’s only proper you meet with the other captains at the Court.”

“No, you’re the diplomat, I just want to make sure the ship and crew are in good order. Besides…Captain Katja is bound to be there. She makes me…uncomfortable.”

Fatema raised an eyebrow, “You don’t believe the stories about her, do you? You know, her being all…” and she finished by waving her fingers in a ghostly fashion in front of his face.

“No, its not that” he waved a hand dismissively at the idea, “It’s just, well, she is always making those suggestive comments about me. She…teases me.” He said, boyishly, as Fatema looked on with an amused smile but said nothing.

Zarif sat up with exaggerated indignation, “No, really, last time we were all together, she goosed me in the arse! And that woman has a strong grip!! Took a week for the bruise to go away”

Now Fatema could not help herself but let out a delighted laugh, “That’s just because she likes you. It’s her way.”

“Well, I would rather she didn’t.”

“No”, Fatema responded, this time with a dark humor, “You definitely do not want Katja not to like you. The things I’ve heard tell of what she does to her enemies would make even the devil shudder.”

Zarif looked at Fatema, “You two seem to get on well. She knows I am devoted to you, doesn’t she?”

Fatema laughed again and responded in a teasing voice, “Of course she does! Otherwise, she wouldn’t tease you so much.”

Zarif just shook his head, “I don’t understand. You women are an enigma.”

Fatema simply shrugged her shoulders, answering with a mysterious voice, “We are like the sea, love. That’s why the ocean is always compared to a woman. Our depths are impossible for a man to fathom.”

And with that she kissed him on his good cheek and turned back to Hans, who had been sitting silently but uncomfortably. “Tell Captain Roger we will, of course, answer his call.”

With that, Hans rose from the table, tipped his hat and gave his thanks and promptly left. Zarif and Fatema sat a bit longer, finishing their drink and discussing what lay ahead. At last, Zarif rose, placed a silver coin on the table and called to the barmaid, making a hand motion to the table to show his payment. As they walked out of the alehouse and back to the docks, lanterns now lighting the way in the early night darkness, Zarif caught sight of his quartermaster and beckoned him over.

“Aye, captain?” the man asked.

“Gather the crew and let them know we make sail at first light, just after morning prayer. And tell the Master of the Docks to tell the other ships in the fleet as they come in to meet us as soon as they can. They are to gather with us…in Shark Bay.”