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Post by khyron on Feb 26, 2009 20:59:10 GMT -5
Excerpt from the journal of Captain Matraya Wheaton:
15 April, Syndicate 558
Lost several of my crew this afternoon to a crazed android seeking revenge for killing his employer. I never thought an android would bother to do that. Those things are getting too real for my taste. Still, he dropped six of my men and injured three more in under a minute. If those things can withstand maritime conditions, maybe I should consider buying one. Like I'd ever have the money for that. All the gold I have left needs to go to the crew, and that's still not enough to pay them. This next haul needs to be something big.
On a separate note, I'm getting much better at infusing bullets. I now only need say the incantation, I no longer have to draw that annoying symbol on my glove. All the other spells in the book continue to elude me, however. As mentioned before, the book itself is about four hundred pages, each of them containing a different spell. The problem is the spells are coded in some kind of cypher. Also, each spell seems to be written by a different author, in a different cypher. Decoding the entire book will take years.
A loud knock on the door to his cabin brought Matraya's head up from his log. He thought for a moment about not answering. After a minute the captain got up and threw the wooden cabin door open. Four of his crew were standing outside.
“We're ready for ya, captain,” one of them said. Matraya nodded and followed the group out to the deck where the six fallen men were laid out, blankets over the lifeless bodies. While the elf watched, Dyer said a few words and the bodies were lowered into the sea. Matraya never spoke at the funerals of his men. He wasn't a good speaker and he knew it. Yet another reason to keep Dyer around. It really will be a dark day when the old first mate finally bites it.
Slowly the men trickle away from the somber scene and get back to their duties, leaving Matraya alone. He walked to the edge of the deck and leaned forward on the metal railing. The normally calm Cyan Sea was behaving oddly today. Cloudy skies and swirling winds of varying intensity seemed to reflect the captain's feelings at the moment. He stared hard at the horizon, watching Pirate's Nest slowly shrink into nothing.
“You okay boss?” Dyer's voice startled Matraya out of a daydream.
“Fine,” he replied, his gaze still fixed on the ocean.
“There's still the matter of paying the men, sir.”
Not moving his eyes, the captain threw the last of his gold to Dyer. “Its not enough,” he said. “We may have to hit two or three ships just to break even.”
“You think we have the resources to do that?” Dyer asked, not hiding his concern.
Matraya laughed. “Nope.”
“I hate to say it boss, but you really screwed us this time,” the aging man said.
Matraya finally turned away from the railing to face his first. The weight of the day's events seemed to lift off his shoulders and he was now smiling from ear to ear. “Come on,” he said excitedly. “We're pirates. Someone's always gonna be out to kill us. Would you have it any other way?”
Dyer took a second to think of a good protest, but eventually a smile escaped his lips. “I guess not,” he replied shaking his head. He looked up to see that Pirate's Nest had just disappeared from sight. All that was visible now was the open sea.
“So!” Matraya exclaimed, slapping a hand down on Dyer's back. “How much longer 'til we reach our little patch of water?”
Dyer shrugged. “No idea. We'd need the display for that.”
“Well, we'll have a new one soon enough.”
Dyer knew his captain was crazy and had learned to deal with that fact. But this plan was a little outlandish, even for him. “If you say so, sir. If we set things up right, the engine should stop on its own when we reach our destination. Although we can't be sure.”
“Being sure is overrated,” Matraya said with a grin.
From below deck came lively sounds, orders being barked and finally footsteps racing up the stairs. A crewman burst onto the deck.
“Sirs, we just picked up a ship on sonar. If we break course we can get behind her, I think,” he said between breaths.
Matraya was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Hot damn, let's do it,” he said. “Get someone up in the crow's nest to help with navigation.”
“Sir,” the crewman took off.
The captain looked back at his first. “See, our luck's changing already.”
Matraya and Dyer entered the small room below deck to see their chief engineer, Mirathi Wheeler, studying a poster sized photograph of their target. Mirathi was a few years older than Matraya, and a brilliant engineer. The elf was convinced Licentia stayed afloat because of her. She started speaking as soon as they entered the room.
“It's an ironclad,” she said pointing to the hull of the vessel. “See those markings? It's definitely a Syndicate ship.”
Matraya shook his head. “That doesn't concern us. What's the danger?”
“It looks like a transport. Only has three guns. One is a rotating 254mm pea shooter on the stern. The other two are 356mm cannons, one on either side of the bow.”
Matraya snatched the picture from her. “Never seen that kinda thing on a transport,” he said, slightly perplexed.
“Yeah,” Mirathi agreed. “They look like last minute modifications to me. I'd bet my entire share of the profit that neither one can rotate more than thirty degrees in any direction. And that's on a good day.”
“So, if we get behind them, we only have to worry about the little one?” Matraya asked. The engineer nodded in agreement, then marked two spots on the picture with an 'x'. One on the stern side hull, and the other just under the barrel of the 254.
She pointed to the first 'x'. “We hit them here and the engine'll be completely disabled.” Mirathi dragged her finger up to the second marking. “Here and that gun will go up. Nothin' left.”
“Okay,” the captain said nodding. “So we get around behind 'em, close up on them as fast as we can, fire both forward guns at the same time, one aimed at each of those spots, then we board her. Easy easy. We won't even have to use Helga.”
The other crewman in the room remained silent. Then Matraya remembered that his best gunner was one of the men the android had killed. Sighing, the captain sauntered up to his second gunner.
“You think you can pull off that shot? We'll be going at full speed, you know?”
The young man nodded. “I can do it,” he said with confidence.
"Alright! Let's have some fun!" the captain shouted. He exited the room back up to the deck for a better view of the action to come. Dyer followed him and Matraya knew he would point out something that he'd failed to consider.
"Sir," he started. "It's a Syndicate transport. Where's the escort?"
"Not here," Matraya replied flatly. "We'll be on and off quick enough. And if we catch what looks like somebody coming to help, we'll get out of there."
"Are you sure you want to make the Syndicate an enemy? We already have enough o' those."
"Don't worry so much, Dyer. The Syndicate has more to care about than little ol' me."
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Post by khyron on Mar 3, 2009 20:35:23 GMT -5
With some very careful navigating Licentia managed to get behind the Syndicate ironclad they had marked. The steel ship had not yet shown any signs of hostility, and Matraya grinned knowing his crew had done a good job in not being spotted. Most pirates preferred smaller, completely wooden vessels for better maneuverability. The average pirate ship was one-third smaller than Licentia, however the unusual size of the ship did not hinder its speed. As the only ship – at least the only one Matraya had ever seen – that was a mesh of wood and metal, and equipped with a steam engine, the elf's boat was deceptively fast. Licentia was also armed with five cannons of varying sizes, making it a force to be reckoned with.
Having such firepower was good, but a sunken ship proved quite hard to rob. The first order of business, then, was to get close enough to board the ironclad. There were many different methods of going about this and each pirate would swear up and down that his way was the best. Matraya was no different. Some pirates would just use speed to get up alongside another boat and board it as they moved. They tend to find out rather quickly that doing so will only lead to a face full of lead. As far as Matraya knew, there was no vessel in existence that could get right next to another boat without being detected. The only safe way to board another ship was to disable her first.
For an old style wooden ship, the elf went the old fashioned route. Harthingys attached to cables were fired into the hull and retracted, reeling the ship in. It worked very nicely because it would not only drag your target to you, but it put holes in her hull at the same time. There was, of course, a huge downside to this method, being that you had to trust the harthingys would actually latch onto something. Many times would a harthingy come flying out of a ship it had just speared, and the pirates would have to wind it back up and fire again. Once, Matraya remembered, he put a ship full of so many holes that the thing almost sank before it was within fifty yards of Licentia.
When dealing with an ironclad ship, such as this, Matraya used a different take on the same method. As far as he knew Licentia was the only ship that utilized this method, and her captain was very proud of that fact. A few weeks before Matraya became a crew member of Licentia, his father had pirated a very large electromagnet from a junk hauler coming out of Vale. Rather than sell the behemoth thing, he attached it to four synchronous winches with composite steel cables, and bought a power source capable of operating the magnet for a few hours at a time. The elder Wheaton then got what was essentially a giant compressed air gun and modified it to fire the magnet.
Matraya's first job aboard his father's ship was to operate this monstrosity and after its first successful use, he named it Helga. Actually firing Helga was not an easy task. The size of the magnet itself made any kind of cross hair or sight impossible on the gun, so the operator would have to eyeball the shot. The magnet itself could not be turned on until after it was fired, otherwise its trajectory would be altered by all the metal on Licentia itself. Helga needed 1.2 seconds to power up however, so if it was turned on too late it would not cling to the intended target. As long as there was a gunner skilled enough to operate the beast, Helga was a nearly foolproof method of reeling in a metal ship. Unfortunately for Matraya, he was working with a skeleton crew at the moment, and using the giant magnet would be counter productive. Also, if the power source went dead, it would take roughly six hours to recharge, so Matraya opted for his aforementioned plan.
The pirate captain stood on the bow of his ship, with Dyer and Mirathi next to him. His plan was simple enough and the crew knew their parts. If everything went like it should, Matraya wouldn't have to shout a single order. The timing will have to be perfect though. If Matraya had done his math correctly – and he rarely did – they would have five seconds after the Syndicate ship came into range of their guns. After this the Syndicate vessel would detect them and immediately start evasive maneuvers. That meant five seconds to aim and fire both guns. His gunner was confident enough, but Matraya was nonetheless worried.
Mirathi was looking at their target through binoculars. “She'll be in range in a couple seconds,” she said.
Matraya let out a sigh. “Here we go.” As the words left the elf's lips, the sound of gunfire echoed through the otherwise quiet sea. Even without binoculars it was obvious the first shot was a direct hit on the Syndicate ship's 254mm cannon. A grand explosion seemed to shake the ocean as fire spewed up from the stern of the ship. Not one second later a second explosion came from the same area. Reserve ammunition, Matraya thought. The second shot from Licentia impacted on the hull, and Matraya stepped up closer to the railing to try and get a better look. Mirathi lowered her binoculars.
“He missed,” she said flatly. “About eight feet to the right. She'll be crippled, but far from disabled.”
Matraya cursed. Why can't everything go according to plan just once? He spun around and sprinted off towards the stairs leading below deck. As he did, he thrust a finger towards his first mate.
“Reload the forward guns, kill the engine and drop anchor. I'll reel her in with Helga.” The captain didn't wait for his first to respond. He knew Dyer would do as he was told. Matraya burst through a few rooms at full speed, and finally ended up in the firing room of the giant magnet, Helga. He hopped into the control chair and quickly got reacquainted with the controls. It had been eight months since he'd operated Helga, and even then he was just messing around. This was his first live fire shot in years.
The elf peered up over the magnet to see the Syndicate vessel had begun a lazy starboard turn. Another thirty seconds and they would be in firing range of those two big cannons on the bow. And I ordered Dyer to stop us dead. The only upside was now the captain had a big target to shoot for. He carefully aimed for the very stern of the ship. It was a hard shot, but if he made it the act of dragging the ironclad would effectively counteract her turn. Here goes nothing.
Matraya fired.
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Post by khyron on Mar 6, 2009 23:22:49 GMT -5
Immediately after firing Helga, the pirate captain half-dove to his right and flipped the power switch for the giant magnet. For about two seconds everything seemed to freeze. The sea, the Syndicate ship, even the shouts of his crew seemed to silence. The only thing that mattered was the shot. Matraya's ears were met with a loud clang and he saw the magnet smash into the rear most part of the hull. And it stuck there. The elf was barely able to contain his elation. It was a perfect shot. A lucky one too. Matraya threw the lever controlling the winches. The giant machine emitted a mechanical hum, and started to reel the ironclad in.
The door to the firing room flew open and Dyer hurried in. “Nice shot, Captain. Guns are reloaded and ready to fire on your command.”
Matraya thought for a second. Should he fire again? The vessel itself no longer posed a threat to Licentia, but there may be a need to make a point to her crew. No, he quickly decided. Don't want to risk sinking it. With its engine crippled, the ironclad wouldn't be able to run, but if they dropped anchor it would be a problem.
“Aim for the anchor,” Matraya said. “If it starts to move, blow it clean off.”
With that, Dyer went on his way to relay the message and the captain clambered back up to the deck. Mirathi was waiting for him.
“Nice shot,” she commented. “We'll have 'em in just a few minutes.” The pirate captain nodded silently. His next move was an important one. Boarding someone else's ship was never simple. In fact, it was usually the most difficult part of any raid mainly because one can never be sure what the opposing captain is thinking. Some will be quick to surrender to minimize his own casualties while others have a fight to the death attitude. The trick was to make them afraid. Very afraid.
Matraya strode up to his bullet riddled navigation center and grabbed the microphone for his ship's loudspeaker.
“Syndicate vessel!” he said as intimidatingly as he could. “In a matter of minutes, you'll be boarded. By the time we get on your boat, all crew will be present and accounted for on the deck. All will be unarmed. If we even think you failed to obey, we will happily gun all of you down. Remember, you don't have to be alive for us to rob ya.” There was a click and a squawk as the elf cut the feed to the mic. Matraya slightly winced. It wasn't his best threat, but it should prove to be good enough.
As the two ships neared each other, Matraya dug out six bullets from his belt. Closing his eyes, he muttered the familiar incantation. This time, the flash was red and the bullets themselves kept a bloody hue afterwards. Quickly, the captain filled the cylinder of his firearm and holstered it.
The act of boarding the Syndicate vessel was standard. Planks were set up across the decks, and some crewmen – Matraya included – preferred the more theatrical route of swinging across on some seldom-used rigging from the sails.
As soon as his feet hit the steel of the foreign vessel, Matraya scanned the ship. There were about forty men and women in plain sight packed onto the deck, all with hands raised. The crew themselves looked fairly haggard, like they had been at sea for a little too long. Nevertheless, it seemed that the Syndicate crew had followed Matraya's orders. Of course, any decent captain would at least make it look like he did what he was told. Before addressing the Syndicate crew, Matraya instructed a few pirates to search the ship and find any would-be attackers on board the ironclad. He took one last gander at the opposing crew, sighed, and hopped down to their level.
“Okay, here's how it's gonna work,” he said. “We're gonna take what we want, and you're just gonna sit tight here. Everything goes like its supposed to, and nobody gets hurt.” Immediately after finishing his little speech, the sound of automatic gunfire cut through the air. Some pirates turned their guns onto the unarmed mass, while others fanned out to see what was going on. Matraya drew his gun and raised his free right hand, signaling to his crew to hold their fire.
After a few seconds, Matraya's crewmen emerged, dragging a wounded Syndicate soldier behind them.
“A sniper,” one of them said. “There may be more, but we dunno.” Matraya ordered them to continue their search, then immediately turned his attention to the mass of crewman on the deck.
“Who's the captain of this rig?” he barked. The sea of people shifted around a bit and eventually one man separated himself from the herd. He was middle aged, taller than Matraya and his mouth was covered by a thick mustache. There was a Syndicate captain's insignia on the lapel of his neatly pressed uniform. He seemed more regal than the other members, as if he took special care to make himself presentable; even out here, so far from anything.
“I am captain of this vessel,” he stated, his voice somehow matching his overall appearance. “My name is Orich V-”
The report from Matraya's pistol abruptly cut off the Syndicate captain. The very instant the bullet pierced his chest, the captain's upper torso burst into flame. The poor man ran screaming towards his horrified crew, who could only step back and watch for fear of receiving the same fate. His howl rose multiple octaves and unsettled all who heard it as the flames tore at his vocal cords and continued up to his face and head. Finally, in a vain attempt to save himself from his terrible and inevitable end, the captain threw himself overboard. How he could possibly swim after so horrible a burn was beyond Matraya. But I guess he's gotta try.
Matraya quickly collected himself – the sight he knew would stay with him for a while – and again spoke to the crew. “So who's the new captain?”
It took slightly longer for anyone to single himself out from the mass, but after a moment a much younger, less confident looking officer stepped forward. The young man calmed himself as best he could, then spoke. “I-I guess that would be me,” he struggled. “I'm-”
“I don't give a damn who you are,” Matraya cut him off sharply. “If you want your crew to live, you'll call back anyone else hidin' in the steel o' this thing.”
The new captain paused as if to consider his next move. After a moment, he raced to the controls, grabbed the loudspeaker microphone and hurriedly ordered all solders to disarm and come to the deck. In less than a minute four more soldiers came out of hiding, rifles down and hands raised. The pirates returned shortly thereafter and looked to their captain as if voicing a question.
Matraya deliberated only for a split second. “Do it.”
The pirated gunned down the the would-be snipers as the rest of their shipmates watched awestruck. Matraya's mood seemed to suddenly brighten after the murder.
“Alrighty,” he said clapping his hands together. “We'll be needing...that.” The elf pointed at the Syndicate ship's Bulkhead Navigational Display.
“Yes, we- wait, what?” the new captain asked, the terror in his voice now replaced with utter confusion. “But...it's attached to the deck.”
Matraya couldn't help but smile at the comment. “You just leave that to me, little guy,” he replied, waving his gun at the young man. Mirathi, who had been ignoring all the aforementioned events, was examining the display and finally got up to address her captain.
“You know, I actually think I can do it,” she said.
“Then let's get on it. Take as many men as you need,” the elf grinned. He quickly picked Dyer out of the sea of people on the now overcrowded ironclad. “You take a few men below decks. Our hold is empty, so snag anything that even looks like it could be worth somethin'.” He turned back to the Syndicate crew. “As for you, stay put and nobody, well, nobody else gets hurt.”
As it seemed they finally decided to blindly obey him, Matraya left the opposing crew in the hands of his own men and headed to the former captain's chambers.
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Post by khyron on Mar 13, 2009 19:10:21 GMT -5
Every ship's captain had one or two secrets that he kept from his crew. Most of the time it was nothing useful - maybe a mistress or some slight wrong doings or side work – but sometimes, it was worth a fortune. However secretive, captains were also predictable. Anything he didn't want his crewmen finding, he would put in his cabin. Matraya knew his crew would never dream of setting foot in his quarters unless invited and he assumed most other captains had the same mentality.
The elf quickly rifled through everything in the ex-captain's quarters, hoping something of great value would catch his sharp eye. All that was in plain sight was the usual: nautical books, a study he was apparently spearheading, a few useless trinkets – probably sentimental – and a money pouch with no more than fifty gold in it. Matraya was going to call it a day when he saw something wholly unusual, at least for this particular vessel.
It was a small sheaf of papers in the bottom of a desk drawer; so small that it almost completely eluded the pirate. The cover page is what made him stop in his tracks. It read: EYES ONLY – Syndicate Mission Statement.
“What the hell kind of secret mission would a transport ship have?” Matraya found himself thinking out loud. Suddenly, a few things hit him at once. The first was the crew of this “transport”. Forty plus people was far more than adequate, even in pirate infested waters, to get goods from one place to another. At least half of the crew was military as well, but if the cargo was so important why no escort of battleships? Or at least an attack cruiser. Lastly was the captain's uniform. It struck Matraya as very regal. No, that's not the word...decorated. The elf had noticed the ironclad captain's uniform was very flashy, but it wasn't until he gave second thought that he realized they were medals. What is a decorated captain doing on this junk heap?
The pirate scooped up the stack of papers and flipped through it, but was discouraged to see a wall of black ink. Whether by the captain's own hand or possibly a Syndicate censor almost every single word in the document was blotted out.
Common sense told Matraya to leave it be and check up on his crew, but the elf's curiosity got the best of him. What the hell were they doing out here? And, more importantly, could the fruits of this secret mission be profitable to him? The only thing that might leave some sort of clue was the captain's personal journal. A second ransacking of the chambers and Matraya came up with the diary of Captain Orich Veoda. I must be losing my mind to think this'll be useful. Despite his own misgivings, Matraya slipped the journal into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Throwing the door to the chambers open, Matraya once more looked over the deck. The opposing crew seemed complacent enough, and his own men were working feverishly. Mirathi and four others were carrying the Bulkhead Navigational Display over the planks and back onto Licentia. The five of them were moving at almost a crawl, with Mirathi either swearing or barking a random order with each step. Matraya couldn't help but laugh.
Mirathi was a brilliant engineer, but aside from that, she could out-curse and out-drink anyone on the crew. In fact, save for Matraya, she was the best shot on Licentia. Matraya first met her a few days after she came to Pirate's Nest. A few men tried to attack her in a bar the elf happened to be frequenting. The one man that survived the altercation is still to this day terrified of Mirathi. After viewing this – and being thoroughly entertained – Matraya invited her to join his crew. She didn't come cheap and aside from Dyer was his highest paid crew member. She's worth every shred of copper though.
Dyer appeared from below decks and approached the elf. “Well, there really wasn't much down there, but we got all of it on Licentia.”
“Alright,” the captain replied. “Leave 'em some food and a couple barrels o' water and let's get gone.” Matraya walked over to the still terrified looking young captain of the ironclad and put his right arm around him. The elf then drew his gun and jammed it firmly into the young man's ribs.
“So, you're limpin' but you ain't dead in the water. This heap'll be able to make it to Nehri, Scarranara, or someplace else sans Syndicate. Get me?” The elf jabbed him with the muzzle of his gun.
“Y-yes sir,” the youth stammered.
“Don't call me sir. Makes you look weak.” Matraya looked over the young man. “Well...weak-er. Anyways, good luck to ya! And if I ever see you again, I'll slaughter you and your crew.”
The elf and his crew crossed back over onto Licentia, retracted the planks and disengaged their giant magnet. As they fired up the engine, the new captain of the transport ship yelled at Matraya from the bow.
“How exactly are we supposed to find our way now?” The elf couldn't help but laugh. He had, after all, left them blind.
“You're right. Boys?” The now beaming crew of Licentia grabbed hold of the twisted heap of metal that was once a Navigational Display and threw it with all their might. It landed not ten feet from the opposing captain.
“There you go! Enjoy!”
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Post by khyron on Mar 20, 2009 9:07:44 GMT -5
Orich Veoda, Official Captain's Log of Syndicate vessel Chimera.
4 January Syndicate 552
I must admit that when I heard of my reassignment to a transport vessel from my former post as captain of the Battleship Strafe, I was quite angry. So much so that I almost yelled at a superior officer, a cardinal sin in my book at least. A gentleman should accept his orders with gratitude, whatever they may be. Still, captaining a transport is something for a child right out of the academy, not a decorated officer. These were my thoughts until this morning when I received my assignment. I understand now.
After receiving my assignment, I inspected my ship and met my crew for the first time. There are forty three members. Most of them military men with outstanding records, some even overshadowing my own. My first mate is a man of greater years than I named Noah Gosslan. He was the only man whose file I need not look at. I know him by reputation as one of the most honorable, and intelligent, officers in the Syndicate navy. I wonder if he feels the same way about his assignment that I once did, as the crew – including him – is not to be informed of our mission, at least for now. Nevertheless, he seemed very glad to meet me.
The rest of the crew are scholars. Some with great knowledge of ancient texts, languages and – to my great displeasure – magic. None of these men and women can actually use magic, I was assured. But I find myself uneasy around them nonetheless.
Everything seems in order and tomorrow we set sail, for God knows how long. Until the mission is complete, I assume.
Orich Veoda, Captian
The thing that really caught Matraya's eye was the date at the top. Six years ago? What kind of mission takes six years to complete. And wild goose chase? They were obviously looking for something rare. Did they find it? Do we have it? More questions, no answers. He'd just have to keep reading and see where it took him.
But right now there was a decision to be made. Knowing this, Matraya still stared blankly at the ironclad captain's log. Apparently Dyer knew of the problem at hand as well, because he had been pounding on Matraya's door for at least five minutes now. The old ignore him and he'll go away approach didn't seem to be working, so the elf finally let his first mate in.
“Captain, come on,” Dyer wasn't even fully in Matraya's chambers and he already started into him. “We've been sitting here for almost an hour now. What's yer decision?”
The truth was, Matraya didn't know. Should he return to Pirate's Nest or hit another ship or two? The haul from the ironclad had barely taken up one third of his cargo hold. Which is crap. The damn thing was a transport... This brought the pirate captain's gaze back to the foreign journal. What were they hiding? Matraya had, in fact, been so absorbed in his own thoughts about the journal that he hadn't checked any of the crates.
“Well,” he finally answered. “What'd we pinch from the Syndicate ship?”
“I only had a chance to look at a couple crates. Seems to be just your basic supplies. Nothin' else.”
Damn. Now he really might need to hit another ship. The only way Matraya could get back into Pirate's Nest without being shot at by Garrion Bishop's men was to have a cargo hold full of trinkets that everyone in the city wanted to get their hands on. A great haul was the easiest way to make friends in that town. But Helga's power source didn't have enough juice in it to fire another shot. It would have to be recharged, and while that could be done at sea, it would take a good six hours. That was a long time to be sitting around. The pirates could try to board another vessel without the giant magnet, lord knows they'd done it before. Matraya, however, was still uncertain. The elf finally decided he needed all the facts about his cargo before he made a decision.
“Alright. You and me down below Dyer,” he said.
“What?”
“We're gonna check that cargo, crate by crate. See how much we'll get for it all. If we think it's under two thousand, we gotta hit another one.”
Dyer shook his head, unsure of what to say in the face of his captain's indecision. This wasn't like him. “Fine, fine. Let's make it fast though, captain.”
In Licentia's hold, there was twelve barrels of water and fifteen large crates from the Syndicate ironclad. Five of the crates had already been pried open to reveal common non-perishable food stuffs. Matraya grabbed a crowbar and laid into an unopened one. Within a few seconds, the nails loosened and the wooden panel popped off the top of the crate. Inside, not to the elf's surprise, were more food stuffs. The same was true for the next three Matraya opened.
“Hey,” Dyer said, not really excited. “Check this out.” The captain wandered over and saw that inside Dyer's two opened crates was fruit. Apples, oranges, limes and lemons lined the both of them. It would be impossible to sell the fruit. Most of it would be bad by the time they got back to Pirate's Nest, and perishable stuff didn't go for much anyways. The men would appreciate it though. That was something.
Things were not looking good. They'd barely get any gold for all this. Matraya would have to hit at least one more ship before returning. The captain opened his next crate angrily and upon viewing the continents, his mood changed.
“What?” Dyer was curious. Medicine. Not your basic stuff either. This was Syndicate hospital grade medicine. The kind of stuff you couldn't find outside of Vale. Dyer rushed to open the rest of the crates. Three in all had medicine in them. Now the first mate was grinning too.
“There's a small fortune in here,” he said.
“Small? I think we can retire after this one.” Matraya was laughing now. “Set a course for Pirate's Nest, now. We're unloadin' all this.”
“And what about Bishop's men?” Dyer asked. “You think they'll just roll over for us?”
“I'll deal with them...But tell the men to be ready for a fight, just in case. Now let's-” Matraya stopped at the sight of the final crate. It was different than the others. Steel rather than wood, and it looked solid. Just glancing at the thing and Matraya knew the crowbar would be useless against it.
“What's that?” he asked his first.
“Dunno. We can't open it.”
“You try the cutting torch?”
“Yep, no go. Didn't even leave a mark. Whatever it is it's strong.”
Matraya pondered for a second, then kicked the steel crate over. He cursed as he saw what marked the bottom of the steel cube. It was a magic circle. Probably some kind of protection spell. The circle itself looked familiar. Matraya would have to consult the tome in his chambers. Maybe he saw it there. But just maybe...The elf drew and fired at the crate. Upon the bullet's impact, the cube burst into flame. But as quickly as it went up, the fire died out. Damn.
“Sir?” Dyer was genuinely confused.
“Have the men move this heap to my quarters. I'll see what I can do about it.”
Dyer only shrugged and headed above deck. Matraya couldn't stop staring at the metal cube in front of him. I have a feeling my life just got interesting.
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