The Fury of the Seas

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction & Creative Writing' started by HeroicSpirit, Apr 20, 2020.

  1. HeroicSpirit

    HeroicSpirit Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Aug 22, 2019
    1757: The North Sea

    The fog heavy over the salty waters, the HMS Borealis drifted through the misty veil. A Fifth Rate Frigate bearing 32 guns, split between 26 twelve pounders on the upper deck and six 6 pounders on the lower deck. It was crewed by two and a half hundred men, hardy British sailors and officers; they were men of the most treacherous of trades, in which setting on to land was as much as a relief as accompanying liquors and ladies.

    Standing at the wheel was captain Welte, dressed in full uniform with his coat of blue and tricorne hat trimmed with golden thread. A grip upon the handle of his sabre, his shrewd grey eyes surveyed the deck-he had a strong hatred for layabouts, and would punish them harshly. The air was cold against his rough pale skin, but he was unmoved; he cared not for the weather’s harshness.

    He had been sent an order to blockade the Swedish scum’s ports, do that their Prussian allies may push further into their territories. He knew such a move would cripple the supply lines, but it was risky; his ship was not exactly equipped to handle a long-term siege, and he doubted that the Swedes would stand for it too long. Still, he had his orders, and would follow through on them.

    As the ship peeled through the water, the fog became more intense, clouding the ships vision. Welte but his lip, drawing blood. This was was bad, he thought; even on the best of days, mist was a nightmare for sailors-one could easily be set adrift to god knows where, and never come back alive or dead, sent to the locker. Even he shuddered at the thought of such a fate, knowing too well how likely it was.

    As the fog faded, they found themselves still upon the sea, and the air had not changed in temperament. However, excitement was still abound upon the deck, as a single word from the crow’s nest cried out in giddiness what all the sailor wanted to hear: “Land ho!”
    --------------------------------------
    The Frostmarch Coast

    Standing on the freezing windswept beach, the shark woman stood with hair of silver and scales of red, striped black; a foreigner to this land, not one of the natives. Despite her thick woolen blue robes and heavy hooded fur-lined coat of leather, the sharkgirl shivered from the cold; she was more accustomed to warmer climates, and did not care for the temperature.

    Her name was Maiz, a member of an uncommon and maligned subrace of sharkgirl; certainly, she bore their most distinctive of characteristics. While she was born strong, she was also born smart, and did not feel her place was among warriors but rather scholars. Despite what everyone thought and all that was put in front of her, she did not fail in her goal; it was a difficult struggle, for sure, but she managed to narrowly make it into academia. There she studied for a half-dozen years, learning the mystic arts, before she set off, on to the road.

    She did not remember exactly what brought her to this desolate land-it was cold and unforgiving, much unlike the tropical locale from which she hailed, and the food was practically tasteless, lacking spice or seasoning. The village she had past through, Hawkethorne, was not much different, although some of the people were quite colorful, from the surly lupine innkeeper and the catfolk store owner had her perks. They seemed to, at the very least, tolerate her as long as she was paying with what she had.

    Still, it had been a difficult time adjusting to this wasteland-from the voracious wolves and aggressive flora to barbaric orcs and thieving harpies, she couldn't help but wonder if whatever god who had brought her here was attempting to kill her or not. Either way, she had more than her fair share of trouble, although with her strength and spellwork she managed to carry through untouched and unharmed for the most part.

    Maiz walked towards the beach and looked out at the pale waters of the sea, white fog curling against the shore. The sky was grey as ever, and the waves placid. It was quite calming, and some innate desire made the sharkgirl want to jump in, against her better judgement. She held back that thought, of course-even if it was tempting, the coldness of the waters would be much more extreme than the coldness of the air.

    Then, something peculiar caught her red eyes; far off in the distance, the fog started to stir, moving around and about. Then, it began to corkscrew upwards, spiraling into a massive of column of pale mist leading up to the skies. Even to an uneducated peasant, it was obvious that something magical was occurring, and that any attempt to intervene would be futile at best and downright fatal at worst.

    Maiz, feeling a gust of wind carry out as the tower of mist collapsed, dispersing back into the air, quickly ran back towards Hawkethorne as it was clear to anyone that shit had just gotten real.
     
    #1 HeroicSpirit, Apr 20, 2020
    Last edited: Apr 21, 2020
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  2. HeroicSpirit

    HeroicSpirit Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Aug 22, 2019
    Unknown Waters

    As the HMS Borealis pierced through the waves, Captain Welte sat at the head of the table while his nineteen officers took their seats, from his top two lieutenants and quarterdeck officers to the lowly midshipman and captain's clerk. He had personally selected each of these men for their positions, chosen for their strengths in spite of any weaknesses they may have possessed. For example, the carpenter, being a former slave he had relinquished from a Spanish captain, could barely speak English-however, he was honorable enough and was an experienced woodworker. Not only that, but his muscular build and dark skin made him quite intimidating to other sailors, like a son of the devil (when in truth, he was quite gentle and soft-spoken.) Some would question his decision to put such a man in in such a position, but he did not care-besides, his reasons were born of pragmatism, rather than any sympathy with abolitionist causes.

    More peculiar was his second lieutenant-it was something that Welte had kept a secret, for superstitions were rife among the sailors, but the commander, whose ferocity and demeanor was matched by few, was a woman, rather than a man. Initially, he had considered doing the polite thing and dropping her off at the nearest English port to be taken away to a sanitarium, but as time passed, she had proved her worth-once, bearing only a cutlass, she single-handedly captured a Spanish vessel, leaving their captain's head dangling from the prow for his crew to see. Even though she wasn't a man, such an impressive display was something even the most strict of naval captains good admire.

    Taking a deep breath, he began to speak to the crew.

    "Gentlemen, I have decided to host this meeting for the current situation at hand-as we were travelling on our way to blockade the port of Gothenburg, so that the vicious Swedes may suffer from lack of supplies. However, as is apparent, we are now quite off-course; the mist we had entered must have driven us to whatever place we are now in, wherever it may be. I do not know how or why, but it is quite curious indeed-weather such as that would not be enough to bring us close to any coast in the region, for what I know. While I do not have a full understanding, I suspect that there must be some form of witchcraft afoot."

    The Chaplain spluttered out wine as he heard the word. "Witchcraft?"

    "Indeed," Welte said, nodding. "I have no evidence, either of ritual or rational, of anyone doing it aboard this ship, so we must assume innocence for the time being-rather, I would wager that an enemy noble who engaged in such godless arts had found out about our mission and performed his damnable ceremony elsewhere. Again, we have no proof of such actions other than our own experiences of this fiendish spell, but I would say that it is definitely a strong theory." The captain then took a sip of wine, pausing. "In any case, we should try to scout out this land-we are, after all, men of steel and fire, not some simpering curs. We shall learn where this is, who populates it, and what sort of resources may be derived from it. Then, if we find the current owners not to our liking, we shall take it."

    There was a quiver in his voice, a fire in his eyes as he spoke. It was clear to the table that they would not be blockading a port at all-rather, they would be exploring an unknown land and, potentially, conquering it. Even though some were uncertain of such a proposal, as it contradicted the orders he had been given, it was agreed by all this was a much better use of their time. Besides, as far as anyone knew, they were all sunk to the bottom of the sea-it is quite hazardous, after all, and even the mightiest of vessels can be laid low by rocks and reefs. If they were not to come back, at least their fate would be expected.

    And so, the table came to an agreement-the HMS Borealis would make landfall by dawn.
    --------------------------------------
    Hawkethorne

    After hurriedly draining down a mug of ale, Maiz slammed down the mug, smiling appreciatively at the burly old wolf man in front of her. "...so, yeah, that's what I saw," she said.

    Garth rubbed his chin, thinking over the tigershark's tale-while she wasn't someone he trusted, and her story was quite difficult to believe, the story itself seemed honest-there was no apparent ruse behind it, nor clever lies to manipulate him. Rather, she sounded...concerned, even shaken. Very troubling indeed.

    "A column of mist out at sea? How odd a sight..." he muttered aloud. "I suppose I'll take your word for it, at least for now. I don't have a damn clue what that could be about, though, and I'm not going to pretend I know what's goin' on. Seems more of a problem for gods, not people."

    Maiz bit her lip, looking away as embarrassment crept over her. "No shit...I don't doubt I'd be pretty fucked if I tried to approach it-that's why I ran away instead of just standing around! Whatever was happening out there was not natural, and probably was the product of something way to powerful for someone like me to deal with!"

    Garth shrugged, before he kept working. Damn, Maiz thought. Well, she shouldn't have expected much out of him-it wasn't as if he was one to talk anyway. So, instead, she decided to head upstairs to her room, leaving a few electrum coins on the table for the surly lupine innkeeper. She had to keep up with his rates, after all, and it wasn't as if he was letting her stay out of charity-he had a growing family to take care of, and while the man wasn't exactly her favorite, his daughter was nice and deserved a good place to raise her pups.

    As the tigershark entered her room, she hung her coat up before pulling out her journal-she would be doing some writing today, and she was not going to delay it any longer. Ink to quill, and quill to paper, she began to record the events of the day.
     
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