Adventures On The Abecean Sea, Sometimes It Doesn't Pay To Stowaway Options

[mALX]

My current Fanfic is too long to cart over here, so I'd like to offer up this much shorter one. I was inspired to do this story by an RP idea I saw floated a month ago on the BGSF. I got extremely excited about the concept, but never having been in an RP I hesitated to join. Still, the possibilities loomed and taunted till I knew I would write this. It won't be a long one, I promise! I hope everyone enjoys it.

Shivani

Adventures On The Abecean Sea

Chapter 1: The Stowaway


The pounding of the waves on the bow of the ship created a huge spray across the deck that seeped down into the anchor storage, raining steady rivulets of icy cold water onto the hard chains where Shivani huddled, struggling to retain the contents of her stomach.

At the time it had seemed a good idea, stowing away in the hold of the nearest ship at the Anvil port. The guards had spotted her, and it would have been no time at all before they connected her with the reports of a runaway slave.

Maybe she had meant to do this for years, but not at this time nor place; yet here she was. Her tail was kinking from the hard chains pressed against it, and whatever protection her thin fur gave her against the cold had lost its use against the elements that now assailed it.

Somehow she had not foreseen that, the ship putting out to sea; well, not while she was on board. Exhausted from the night spent walking in the cold air, it had been only natural to nap there in the dark of the hold. The quiet shushing of the boat as it slipped over the calm waters had not woken her from the tired slumber; nor did the gentle rolling as it set out across the Abecean Sea.

When the storm caused the ship to slam into the breaking seas, throwing the icy tentacles of itself down into the pitch dark hold…and roll violently, sometimes heeling over till she was sure the sails and mast would be washed under in one of the crashing waves; only then had she awakened to realize her circumstance.

It didn’t take long to determine the type of boat she had stowed away on either. It wasn’t the curses and coarse language spoken in guttural tones that told her, but the “Aye Aye Captain” that followed them. A pirate ship! Oh dear.

It was a well known fact that pirates considered a female on board to be bad luck, no matter the age…would they kill her? Or worse?

Thinking fast, Shivani pulled her worn leather helmet off and twisted her hair into a tight knot on her head, replacing the helmet which now sat at an odd angle. She pulled the straps tight around it, forcing it to smash the bun down flat.

Shivani pulled the rusty iron dagger she had found earlier out of her waistband and cut a length of the furled spinnaker sail that rested in the hold. She stripped off the wet leather cuirass and bound her breasts across with the length of sail. There wasn’t much to flatten yet, but there was no sense taking chances.

Tugging the wet cuirass back on proved to be a chore in the tight hull of the ship as it rocked and pounded, throwing her off balance with its violent contortions. Still, she must get out of here, or would be sitting in her own vomit shortly. Even without benefit of a looking glass she was sure her pale skin had taken on a greenish hue, for the nausea had awakened her with a stomach that rolled to match the ships movements.

Crawling out the hatch, she was instantly knocked down from her position on her hands and knees to rolling across the deck by the next lurch of the ship and ended up slammed into the gunwale where she finally gave up the contents of her stomach.

The waves crashing over the bow washed it down the deck toward the stern of the boat. Leaning back and letting the next spray wash over her felt good, in spite of the cold and wet, for the seasickness had left her woozy and faint; and the icy waters revived if naught else.

She closed her eyes, trying to fight off the next wave of nausea when a voice too close for comfort reached her ears.

“Here be the culprit.” The coarse voice was followed by a hand grabbing her up by the cuirass and dragging her toward the stern.

Shivani struggled and beat ineffectually at the massive hand that hauled her up and deposited her before a lowbrow man in the tattered blue coat of a Naval Officer. It was obviously stolen, as it didn’t fit him. The armpits and shoulders were torn, and although unbuttoned it squeezed against his bulk.

She promptly ‘shot the cat’ across the top of his boots, vomiting helplessly and unable to stop.

“Ye’ll pay for that lad, ye will!” The Captain snarled, grabbing Shivani by the back of the neck and shoving her down. “Ye’ll lick them clean then, weakling.”

The words along with the smell of what already rested on his boots caused a fresh wave of nausea and instead of cleaning, She retched some more across the toes of them. Kicking her out of the way the Captain demanded satisfaction from the one that brought Shivani before him.

"Wad ye bring the lad before me 'fore he were done emptying his load? Ye caused this, now ye clean it. An' ye can swab the cockpit as well. Git the lad's head over the side 'fore he fills the ship wi' his swill." The Captain roared at the crewman.

Grumbling and cursing under his breath, the crewman glared at Shivani. Aye, he would have his revenge, but when the Captain wasn’t standing there to see.

Shivani’s still heaving carcass was dragged back to the gunwale and deposited with her head hanging over the side so there would be no more clean-up required.

***

She woke in that position, the seas were calm now and the crew was busy hoisting the sails and swabbing the deck. Before she pulled her head up she ran her fingers around the black film that clung to the gunwale and rubbed it on her face to hide its delicate features.

Pulling herself across the deck toward the cockpit, she was stopped by a pair of Naval Officer’s boots that were too small for the feet and legs jammed into them. The Captain’s voice boomed above her.

“So, yer joinin’ the living I see. Are you gonna git to work or do we have to toss you in the briny an wake you up? This ain’t no pleasure cruise. Ye mind telling me what ye were hired to do on this ship?”

She thought quickly. She had seen kitchen work done before. Trying to deepen her voice and make it sound as uneducated and coarse as those around her, she answered.

“The galley…Sir.”

“Well git your weak carcass to it then. An' be quick about it.”

With a hurried, "Aye Aye Captain," she hoped was a good imitation of the one she had heard the night before, she scurried down the main hatch into the nether regions below decks. She tried not to draw attention as she glanced around, trying to see anything that looked like it might be a kitchen. A horrible smell assailed her nose, and she followed it to what could only be the galley.

It was filthy. A malodorous scent billowed out of a pot tied onto a grate over the small fire pit with lengths of steel wire. She couldn’t bring herself to taste the vile concoction, but upon glancing behind her saw the Captain standing in the passageway watching her. She better do something quickly.

Grabbing a measure of salt, she pulled her dagger out and began scraping the salt block into the soup. Crusts of debris filtered off the blade and into the vile brew below. Her nerves on edge by his scrutiny caused her hands to tremble, dropping a large portion of the salt block into the soup.

Her eyes fell on an overly large wooden ladle. Scooping it up, she pretended to be stirring the reeking mixture in the pot while she searched for the block of salt. Glancing back she saw the hulking form of the Captain no longer filled the passageway.

With a sigh of relief she fished the much diminished slab of salt out and dropped it back on the shelf. She would have to wait for the cook’s orders, never having cooked before.

***

A young Nord boy wandered in and stopped, surprised to see her. “Who are you? I thought I was the galley slave.” He spouted, then flushed.

Shivani felt much better about her disguise after that; the boy could not be more than ten years old and looked much more feminine than she did. His voice had a high pitch as well. Should the crew suspect a woman on board, this young lad would be picked over herself as the culprit, and could prove he was not a girl, so would not be harmed.

She lowered the pitch of her voice and tried to sound uneducated. “Uh, I’m your help.”

His eyes brightened. “Oh good, because I’m not really sure…”

Drat! She was hoping he knew more than her. “Where’s the cook?” She asked, her voice cracking from trying to lower it deeper than she was able.

“He near got killed last night in the storm. Got cut real bad, bled into that stew.”

Shivani almost gagged, thanking her stars she had not tasted of the concoction.

“You mean its just us?” Shivani nearly squeaked. The lad nodded.

This post has been edited by mALX: Nov 25 2012, 09:32 PM

[mALX]

Chapter 3: The Black…Er…White?…Flag


The Black Flag gleamed and glistened as it cut through the calm waters like a shark, charging across the coast of Hammerfell by dint of clinging close enough to the shore to not make an easy target for Commodore Fasil Umbranox and his Navy that took pleasure in stalking Captain Dugal.

They had rounded Hnea Rax the night of the storm, and had just now breezed by Helgathe. The weather had stayed fair, but with a decent wind; enough that they would be in Daggerfall well before morning if they could keep up this clip. Today the sun shone down on the ship, reflecting off the high polish of all the metalwork.

Captain Dugal spat on the deck, and instantly fifteen men were fighting each other to swab the spot clean. What had at first seemed a blessing, the men all eager to work…had now become a curse. They cleaned the ship so well that it could no longer slide unnoticed through the waters and creep up on other ships, or avoid enemies bent on destroying them. Why it even glistened in the moonlight now! Yet, somehow he was not prepared to tell them to stop working so hard. There had to be a way around this, give them something else to do.

He had caught the men tying themselves to the bow and slipping along the side of the ship in motion to scrape the barnacles off the hull and had to put a stop to that. Twice he had caught them tying off the Crow’s nest to scrub down the sails. He had never had a crew so eager to work, nor even heard of any.

“Ship Ahoy!” The cry came from the Crow’s nest. Now that might give them something to do and wear them down, plus garner some booty at the same time. One could never do too much looting.

“Blow alongside ‘er!”

“Aye Aye Captain.”

“It’s an escort Captain! I can see the Galleon on the other side of the Frigate!” The lookout called.

Captain Dugal’s eyes lit with greed. “Gold. There’ll be plenty of gold then, if they have an escort. Man your stations, all hands on deck!”

“Aye Aye Captain!”

They furled their flags and lowered them quickly, raising the flag of the Imperial Navy till they got in closer. Their pirate flag was tied into place, ready to hoist when they pulled alongside.

“AVAST!” They shouted.

Surprisingly the Frigate dropped it’s sails, as did the Galleon; not even trying to run. Captain Dugal was used to seeing whole crews leap into the water when they saw the Black Flag coming, the reputation of his Sabres went well before them. But to drop their sails and tie up before they arrived? He signaled to raise the large black banner that let the other ship know they were being attacked as they pulled alongside.

The deck was alive with men, so eager for movement that they could not even stand still long enough to wait till the ship was brought along side. Several climbed up on the boom of the Main and walked across it, then leaped on board the other ship as the Black Flag tied up to it.

For some reason the men on the Frigate did not start fighting right away, even with the Captain of that boat standing right on the deck. Stunned, Captain Dugal boarded the other ship and walked up to the Captain of it.

“I’m Captain Torradan ap Dugal, these are my Red Sabres. We are here to lighten your load. Givin’ up so easy won’t stop us from takin’ these here boats off your hands now, but if ye’ are smart we may let ye’ live to work on my crew. How ’bout it, Matey?”

The Captain laughed. “You had better not pull into port dressed like that, they’ll have your hide. Were you out to sea so long you outgrew your uniform?”

“Are ye’ daft man? I just told you we are here to lighten your load! Now start emptyin’ yer coffers up to me!” Captain Dugal stared hard at the other Captain to see if he had maybe imbibed too freely.

The Captain laughed again. “I don’t know how you got those costumes for your men, or why you are playing this prank, but you’ve had your fun. Why did you really want us, can we be of assistance to you?”

“I’m telling you how you can ’be of assistance’ to me! Empty your coffers, man! And make it quick ’fore I forge a new hole in you!” Captain Dugal roared.

“You’ve had your fun, now what do you want?” The Captain asked, showing irritation.

“Are you telling me you don’t believe I’m Captain Dugal, nor these the Red Sabres?” Captain Dugal’s face was beginning to purple with anger.

“I’ve seen the Black Flag, Captain Dugal’s ship before. It lives up to his name. Your ship could be called the ’White Flag’ maybe. It’s cleaner than any Imperial Navy ship I’ve ever seen. Now what can I do for you, Captain? I’m a busy man. I have to escort this Galleon laden with gold to Winterhold.”

Captain Dugal turned around and looked at the Black Flag. It was immaculate, gleaming in the sun like a new ship. All the woodwork had been varnished and polished to a high sheen, the metalwork shone brilliantly in the sun, all the lines were scrubbed till they contrasted pure white against the teak decks. Even the anchor chain glistened like expensive jewelry. It really didn’t look like the Black Flag anymore.

He glanced around, his men had surrounded the crew, but none of the captured crew was scared or fighting them, they were TALKING! Gossiping like wenches! He had to think for a minute. This was most dissatisfactory. He was used to rousing fear or a fight, now that was a satisfactory response. What should he do now?

“Yeah, you are right, we are supposed to take over that Galleon and relieve you of your post temporarily. The war and all, ye’ know. By order of Uriel Septim VII himself I hereby take charge of these two ships. We could use the extra manpower though, to maneuver them, if your crew want to stay on board and help. We‘ll be dropping you off at Daggerfall to return to your post.”

Somehow just taking the ships without a fight felt…cheap. It was too easy. Nothing felt right about it. Captain Dugal would rather have lost crew members in a big battle than for it to go this easy, but to just start slicing away at them while they sat there grinning, it just wouldn’t sit well with him. Still, he sensed trouble, and his inner warnings were rarely wrong. They had kept him alive all these years, and right now they were going off like a channel buoy in a hurricane.

The Captains and First Mates of both the Galleon and Frigate were brought aboard the Black Flag and treated as guests. Captain Dugal found his stomach souring and churning at the thought, he may as well pull out doilies. It was unmanning to not kill them or hold them captive at least.

The crew were put to work transferring the gold and wine over to the Black Flag, and two Red Sabre were positioned on each of the other boats to take over for the Captains and First Mates. Captain Dugal divided his crew to place a division of his own men on each boat as well, taking equal portions of men off the other ships to work on the Black Flag.

This seemed to cause a disturbance among the crew members. Surprised, because till now they had been overly biddable, Captain Dugal went on deck to see what the problem was.

“What in blue blazes is goin’ on here?” He bellowed. The fighting stopped and his crew all turned to face him, their eyes a mixture of belligerence and desperation.

The divisions from the other ships had set to work, and were watching the fighting with leery eyes from a distance as they coiled the lines and lay them up to set sail again.

In unison they began shouting again. “I’m not leaving the Black Flag! Let someone else go to the other ships! I don’t want to go!”

Captain Dugal raised his hand, and they fell silent once again.

“Are ye’ men disobeying a direct order? I didna’ ask ye’ to go. Now git yer carcasses on them ships so we can set sail ‘fore I send ye‘ there at the end of my sword!”

The crew members were looking back and forth amongst themselves, and then in a rush they stepped forward. “If we has to go, then let us take the cook and we’ll send one from the other ships here!”

At that the Black Flag crew members that had been selected to stay aboard her ran up. “Nae, the cook stays here.”

“Have ye’ all gone daft? Now git to yer assigned stations. The cook stays here.”

With a bad grace and much cursing the men leaped over to the other ships, but kept casting desperate glances back to the Black Flag.


***

A squall was brewing off the Eltheric Ocean and moving fast toward the trio of ships as it neared Dragon Grove. It would be a huge risk to try and reach the Iliac Bay in a storm of this magnitude. A shelf of rock lay just under the surface at the mouth of the bay, and had taken down even experienced sailors that had underestimated the deadliness of it. It was said the witches of that area had put a curse on it. It may be superstition, but Captain Dugal had seen some he knew, knew how good they were; but they had died to the shoals at the mouth of that bay. He would not chance it. He called the order to the other ships to turn back around. They would have to seek shelter in the shallow cove they had passed a ways back. It was a risk as well, but not nearly as bad as forging ahead would be.

***

This post has been edited by mALX: Apr 6 2010, 12:13 AM