Southern Zerif Sea
March 1, 2021
6:33 AM
Seahawk
March 1, 2021
6:33 AM
Seahawk
Moritz Kriemhild shifted in the captain’s seat in the moderately sized bridge of the cutter Seahawk. He had just arrived at the bridge for the morning and the crisp sea air had bitten his ears, cheeks, and nose. With a broken coffee machine, his morning was already off to a bad start. The helmsman, a Larkonian named Cornelius Darby, yawned absentmindedly a few feet ahead of him.
“How much longer are you scheduled for Corny?”
Darby turned to the skipper and sighed, “Forty more minutes, can’t barely keep my eyes open.”
The Seahawk rose with the sea before serenely crashing back down. Her blue grey hull coordinated with the dark blue sea and greyish storm clouds forming above as she trudged forward through the cold and weary ocean.
Moritz felt generous that morning and would’ve preferred the quiet solitude of the bridge unattended. “How about you take off early, I’ll pilot the ship til your relief gets here.”
“Well I won’t say no to that skip, thanks a million.” Darby waited for Moritz to place his hand on the ship’s wheel before making a quick exit. Moritz took his seat and began to drift away in his thoughts, neglecting to notice a blinking red button over on the radar desk.
He was thinking of an old girlfriend back in Lotte, Auhlervia when he first noticed the much larger ship ahead, off the starboard bow. As he began to turn his head to take a full account of the object that had just caught his eye, he heard the explosion of a gun, and a few seconds later, the entire bridge was aflame and Moritz was dead.
The shell destroyed the bridge and carried through to the engine room, and the ship exploded into two halves before sinking quickly.
The guided missile cruiser sliced through the choppy water that had just become the watery grave of a number of sailors. In blood red letters that had been designed to appear to drip, the name Barracuda menaced from the bow. Smoke still trailed up from the tip of the 5 inch 54 caliber gun on its forward deck as it gloated over its drowned prey.
Thomas Randolph chuckled as the ship plowed through the waves.
“That was the fourth cutter in the area sir, I believe we’ve knocked out all of their patrols, they’ll be in the dark for a few more hours, shall I alert the rest of the flotilla?” The radar and signal chief turned back to look at Thomas.
“Yes. Every single ship we have, we need to corral as many cargo ships as we can before they find out. Once they figure out what’s going on, we’ll release the video. Now let’s go make some money, boys.” The men in the bridge cheered heartily as the ship sped through the waters.
Hector Gonzales was a stout man of swarthy complexion who had spent the last 25 years aboard merchant ships traversing Olympus’ many oceanic expanses. From the Relias and Rosel seas to the Nikene Ocean, the Zerif Sea, the Isthmian Canal and the Tobal Sea, even up north to the Gulf of Salta and as far east as the Talia Sound. He’d seen a lot during his time at sea, from wicked weather patterns to far fetched human behavior. He’d heard of incidents of piracy in his earlier sailing days, back when he was in the Lykensburgish Navy.
There had been rumors in his old navy groups of a self described ‘Pirate Republic’ in the Nbano Bay in northern Kanchaka, but he mostly dismissed the chatter as gossip of bored veterans. He’d never had a bad mission, at least when it came to pirates, and the establishment of the MU seemed to erase any idea of piracy on the seas in this day and age.
“Any word from the Patrol Flotilla? It’s been a few days since we’ve heard from anyone.”
“Nothing as of this morning, Captain, the last transmission we received was when we passed through the Channel of Channel, telling us we were clear.” His first mate, Mario Vega, gave him a pained look. Where Gonzales dismissed the pirate gossip out of hand, Vega firmly believed there was a possibility to be slaughtered in the course of his profession, no matter how modern it had become. It was a humorous point of contention between the aged Captain and his younger first mate. Gonzales waved his hand dismissively.
“We’ll. be fine, plot the course through. Keep an eye out for any word from the flotilla though, it’s not like them to be this quiet.”
Vega nodded and turned back to his duties.
The radar and signalman seated to the far left of the helmsman began to analyze the images he was seeing on his screen.
“Uh, Captain, I think we have a problem. I’m seeing three or four ships pop up on the radar, two of them are way too big to be part of the flotilla, are we getting any radio communications from them at all?” He turned frantically to the communications officer, who shook his head.
Gonzales rubbed his face uncomfortably, “Hail them immediately, ask them to identify themselves. Call the navy, whichever navy is closest to us, contact the MU, contact whomever we can contact. Hang tight boys, I think we might be in danger.”
The men on the bridge paled considerably as they all set about the tasks they’d just been given, with the helmsman beginning to alter the course of the ship, further turning to port to attempt to avoid the ships bearing down on them.
“This is the Merchant Ship 19 Provinces, unidentified ships please identify yourselves and alter course, you are on a collision course, once again, identify yourselves and alter course,” The Communications officer’s fingernail had turned white from how hard he was pressing the button.
Several small inflatable craft began zipping toward the 1,100 foot long container ship, boarding parties.
Gonzales ran a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath.
“Activate anti-piracy measures now, all deck water cannons full blast, start swinging the bow around to see if we can’t knock a few of them back. See if we have any flares, and fire them. Sound the alarms, all hands on deck distribute weapons we have to authorized personnel.” He paused for a moment to think.
“Get unarmed crewmembers to different saferooms across the ship first, first priority. Once they’re secure, we’ll regroup. Diego, contact the Auhlervian Navy in Veidstrodt, they might be able to send ships before or after we get hit.”
The communications officer nodded and turned back to the radio.
“This is Lykensburgish Merchant Ship 19 Provinces out of Valencia, Lykens, we are under attack by Pirates in the northern Zerif Sea, we are 55 degrees east, 19 degrees south, please send immediate assistance and possible search and rescue, mayday mayday mayday.”
Rear Admiral Halyna Borisov entered the briefing room. The assembled press corps leapt to their feet and began shouting questions to the woman. She waved them away as she approached the podium and set down her briefing book.
The journalists quieted down as she began to speak Lorian in a thick Ascollan accent, “We do have some news we’d like to share with the public at this time, four MNCO Cutters were destroyed in the Zerif Sea, which marks the western most area of MNCO protection. Several container ships have been captured at this time, so far we know of three ships of Lykensburgish origin, two each of Oceanian, Meronnian, and Storsnian, one each of Auhlervian, Produzir, Ackesian, and Jashnagari. Their crews are currently being held hostage, and we are working to secure their freedom at this time, however, we can confirm that the shipping lanes in this area will be temporarily closed, any sea traffic will have to be diverted through the Nikene Ocean if coming from Lira, and to the Isthmian Canal if coming from the Channel of Channel. We are working to quickly resolve this issue in what is one of the most important intersections of shipping lanes in the world, but it is our only option to prevent the loss of any innocent lives.
We will be working with all of the national governments involved with MNCO to work to resolve this timely, efficiently, and safely, and we ask for the world’s help in working to avoid disrupting the important function of trade. We will not be taking questions at this time, but we will be back with updates when we have them, thank you for your assistance and understanding.” She nodded and promptly turned and exited the briefing room.
She walked into the strategy room located a few floors down, and came upon the table with her colleagues. Vice Admiral Jorge Reyes, Admiral Brenton Edison, Vice Admiral Jozefa Luksa, and Admiral Kenneth Oh. They were reviewing pictures of drone flyovers of different parts of the Zerif Sea.
“What’re we looking at?”
Vice Admiral Luksa shook his head, leafing through different pictures.
“Between twelve and twenty ships, some of these might’ve just moved between locations so we don’t know the exact number.”
Edison passed over a few photos with circled ships.
“Four guided missile cruisers though, we don’t know how they got those, or their exact armaments, we’re in a bit of a pickle.”
Reyes scratched his head, “I think this is out of our league folks, we might have to kick this up the chain to the national governments, I don’t think we have the resources, especially with that squadron of cutters being a total loss.”
Borisov nodded, “I have to agree with Reyes, this is bad.”
A black screen.
Several seconds go by, leading the viewer to assume it's not working. A cursor appears and begins moving towards the refresh button.
The cursor stops its sojourn to the search bar as the screen flashes brightly. A bearded man is seated at a table, his piercing light blue eyes lock onto the viewer's. His eyes blue enough to be unsettling and not at all comforting. The contemptuous smirk on his face breaks as he begins to speak.
"Hello World, Captain Thomas Randolph of the Barracuda here." He pauses to laugh at something off screen, behind the camera man.
"If you're watching this, the MNCO Cutters Seahawk,Osprey,Albatross, and Cormoranta have been destroyed. A dozen tankers and container ships have been captured, and their crews will be held until I receive that which I desire."
Randolph leaned forward towards the camera, resting on his forearms.
"The MNCO will cease to patrol the Zerif sea and release the following prisoners;
Liam O'Connor
Brunhilda O'Flaherty
William McGinnis
Roland Shea
Sixteen million dollars shall be released with the prisoners in the form of Oceanian dollars.
The first batch of prisoners will be killed in 48 hours if we do not receive what we demand. One person will be killed every two hours afterward, and we will mail their parts to their families. We are not here to play games, we are here to take what is ours."
The screen fades to black once more, before flashing a picture of dozens of men and women bound and gagged in rows.
“How much longer are you scheduled for Corny?”
Darby turned to the skipper and sighed, “Forty more minutes, can’t barely keep my eyes open.”
The Seahawk rose with the sea before serenely crashing back down. Her blue grey hull coordinated with the dark blue sea and greyish storm clouds forming above as she trudged forward through the cold and weary ocean.
Moritz felt generous that morning and would’ve preferred the quiet solitude of the bridge unattended. “How about you take off early, I’ll pilot the ship til your relief gets here.”
“Well I won’t say no to that skip, thanks a million.” Darby waited for Moritz to place his hand on the ship’s wheel before making a quick exit. Moritz took his seat and began to drift away in his thoughts, neglecting to notice a blinking red button over on the radar desk.
He was thinking of an old girlfriend back in Lotte, Auhlervia when he first noticed the much larger ship ahead, off the starboard bow. As he began to turn his head to take a full account of the object that had just caught his eye, he heard the explosion of a gun, and a few seconds later, the entire bridge was aflame and Moritz was dead.
The shell destroyed the bridge and carried through to the engine room, and the ship exploded into two halves before sinking quickly.
The guided missile cruiser sliced through the choppy water that had just become the watery grave of a number of sailors. In blood red letters that had been designed to appear to drip, the name Barracuda menaced from the bow. Smoke still trailed up from the tip of the 5 inch 54 caliber gun on its forward deck as it gloated over its drowned prey.
Thomas Randolph chuckled as the ship plowed through the waves.
“That was the fourth cutter in the area sir, I believe we’ve knocked out all of their patrols, they’ll be in the dark for a few more hours, shall I alert the rest of the flotilla?” The radar and signal chief turned back to look at Thomas.
“Yes. Every single ship we have, we need to corral as many cargo ships as we can before they find out. Once they figure out what’s going on, we’ll release the video. Now let’s go make some money, boys.” The men in the bridge cheered heartily as the ship sped through the waters.
Central Zerif Sea
8:48 AM
MS 19 Provinces
8:48 AM
MS 19 Provinces
Hector Gonzales was a stout man of swarthy complexion who had spent the last 25 years aboard merchant ships traversing Olympus’ many oceanic expanses. From the Relias and Rosel seas to the Nikene Ocean, the Zerif Sea, the Isthmian Canal and the Tobal Sea, even up north to the Gulf of Salta and as far east as the Talia Sound. He’d seen a lot during his time at sea, from wicked weather patterns to far fetched human behavior. He’d heard of incidents of piracy in his earlier sailing days, back when he was in the Lykensburgish Navy.
There had been rumors in his old navy groups of a self described ‘Pirate Republic’ in the Nbano Bay in northern Kanchaka, but he mostly dismissed the chatter as gossip of bored veterans. He’d never had a bad mission, at least when it came to pirates, and the establishment of the MU seemed to erase any idea of piracy on the seas in this day and age.
“Any word from the Patrol Flotilla? It’s been a few days since we’ve heard from anyone.”
“Nothing as of this morning, Captain, the last transmission we received was when we passed through the Channel of Channel, telling us we were clear.” His first mate, Mario Vega, gave him a pained look. Where Gonzales dismissed the pirate gossip out of hand, Vega firmly believed there was a possibility to be slaughtered in the course of his profession, no matter how modern it had become. It was a humorous point of contention between the aged Captain and his younger first mate. Gonzales waved his hand dismissively.
“We’ll. be fine, plot the course through. Keep an eye out for any word from the flotilla though, it’s not like them to be this quiet.”
Vega nodded and turned back to his duties.
The radar and signalman seated to the far left of the helmsman began to analyze the images he was seeing on his screen.
“Uh, Captain, I think we have a problem. I’m seeing three or four ships pop up on the radar, two of them are way too big to be part of the flotilla, are we getting any radio communications from them at all?” He turned frantically to the communications officer, who shook his head.
Gonzales rubbed his face uncomfortably, “Hail them immediately, ask them to identify themselves. Call the navy, whichever navy is closest to us, contact the MU, contact whomever we can contact. Hang tight boys, I think we might be in danger.”
The men on the bridge paled considerably as they all set about the tasks they’d just been given, with the helmsman beginning to alter the course of the ship, further turning to port to attempt to avoid the ships bearing down on them.
“This is the Merchant Ship 19 Provinces, unidentified ships please identify yourselves and alter course, you are on a collision course, once again, identify yourselves and alter course,” The Communications officer’s fingernail had turned white from how hard he was pressing the button.
Several small inflatable craft began zipping toward the 1,100 foot long container ship, boarding parties.
Gonzales ran a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath.
“Activate anti-piracy measures now, all deck water cannons full blast, start swinging the bow around to see if we can’t knock a few of them back. See if we have any flares, and fire them. Sound the alarms, all hands on deck distribute weapons we have to authorized personnel.” He paused for a moment to think.
“Get unarmed crewmembers to different saferooms across the ship first, first priority. Once they’re secure, we’ll regroup. Diego, contact the Auhlervian Navy in Veidstrodt, they might be able to send ships before or after we get hit.”
The communications officer nodded and turned back to the radio.
“This is Lykensburgish Merchant Ship 19 Provinces out of Valencia, Lykens, we are under attack by Pirates in the northern Zerif Sea, we are 55 degrees east, 19 degrees south, please send immediate assistance and possible search and rescue, mayday mayday mayday.”
Schloe, Oceania
Emerald Cove Naval Facility
Temporary MNCO HQ
March 2, 2021
7:58 AM
Emerald Cove Naval Facility
Temporary MNCO HQ
March 2, 2021
7:58 AM
Rear Admiral Halyna Borisov entered the briefing room. The assembled press corps leapt to their feet and began shouting questions to the woman. She waved them away as she approached the podium and set down her briefing book.
The journalists quieted down as she began to speak Lorian in a thick Ascollan accent, “We do have some news we’d like to share with the public at this time, four MNCO Cutters were destroyed in the Zerif Sea, which marks the western most area of MNCO protection. Several container ships have been captured at this time, so far we know of three ships of Lykensburgish origin, two each of Oceanian, Meronnian, and Storsnian, one each of Auhlervian, Produzir, Ackesian, and Jashnagari. Their crews are currently being held hostage, and we are working to secure their freedom at this time, however, we can confirm that the shipping lanes in this area will be temporarily closed, any sea traffic will have to be diverted through the Nikene Ocean if coming from Lira, and to the Isthmian Canal if coming from the Channel of Channel. We are working to quickly resolve this issue in what is one of the most important intersections of shipping lanes in the world, but it is our only option to prevent the loss of any innocent lives.
We will be working with all of the national governments involved with MNCO to work to resolve this timely, efficiently, and safely, and we ask for the world’s help in working to avoid disrupting the important function of trade. We will not be taking questions at this time, but we will be back with updates when we have them, thank you for your assistance and understanding.” She nodded and promptly turned and exited the briefing room.
She walked into the strategy room located a few floors down, and came upon the table with her colleagues. Vice Admiral Jorge Reyes, Admiral Brenton Edison, Vice Admiral Jozefa Luksa, and Admiral Kenneth Oh. They were reviewing pictures of drone flyovers of different parts of the Zerif Sea.
“What’re we looking at?”
Vice Admiral Luksa shook his head, leafing through different pictures.
“Between twelve and twenty ships, some of these might’ve just moved between locations so we don’t know the exact number.”
Edison passed over a few photos with circled ships.
“Four guided missile cruisers though, we don’t know how they got those, or their exact armaments, we’re in a bit of a pickle.”
Reyes scratched his head, “I think this is out of our league folks, we might have to kick this up the chain to the national governments, I don’t think we have the resources, especially with that squadron of cutters being a total loss.”
Borisov nodded, “I have to agree with Reyes, this is bad.”
Today
A black screen.
Several seconds go by, leading the viewer to assume it's not working. A cursor appears and begins moving towards the refresh button.
The cursor stops its sojourn to the search bar as the screen flashes brightly. A bearded man is seated at a table, his piercing light blue eyes lock onto the viewer's. His eyes blue enough to be unsettling and not at all comforting. The contemptuous smirk on his face breaks as he begins to speak.
"Hello World, Captain Thomas Randolph of the Barracuda here." He pauses to laugh at something off screen, behind the camera man.
"If you're watching this, the MNCO Cutters Seahawk,Osprey,Albatross, and Cormoranta have been destroyed. A dozen tankers and container ships have been captured, and their crews will be held until I receive that which I desire."
Randolph leaned forward towards the camera, resting on his forearms.
"The MNCO will cease to patrol the Zerif sea and release the following prisoners;
Liam O'Connor
Brunhilda O'Flaherty
William McGinnis
Roland Shea
Sixteen million dollars shall be released with the prisoners in the form of Oceanian dollars.
The first batch of prisoners will be killed in 48 hours if we do not receive what we demand. One person will be killed every two hours afterward, and we will mail their parts to their families. We are not here to play games, we are here to take what is ours."
The screen fades to black once more, before flashing a picture of dozens of men and women bound and gagged in rows.
