An Ambush at the Neck of the Dragonmere
May 11, 2023 22:51:58 GMT -5
Masterbard Alyster Darkharp and sightblinder like this
Post by DM Grizwald on May 11, 2023 22:51:58 GMT -5
*knock knock knock*
The Captain looks up from his maps. Probably one of his men telling him they've approached the area known as The Neck, the straight between the Dragonmere and the Sea of Fallen Stars. Captain Illbertus rises from his desk and makes for his cabin door, cracking it open.
"Aye?" he asks.
"Capt'n. We be near'n the straight. First mate Adlus told me t'come 'n let ye know."
Just as the captain goes to close his cabin door, the crew mate mutters a quick question.
"Cap'n, do it be true wha' the lads say? Do it be true 'bout the crates below?"
Sailors can be an awfully superstitious bunch. Ilbertus learned long ago to let them keep to their superstitions and beliefs but not encourage them. Some of these fools can turn into awful crack pots aboard his ship at times. He doesn't need his crew ranting about curses and the lot.
"No lad. Don't you worry 'bout our cargo. You'll be paid 'nuff when we get to Valkurs Roar."
Smuggling was a dirty business but someone had to do it. He knew of the dangers of the crates below deck but the reward far outweighed the risk. He could collect, pay his men his men and sail off into retirement. The idea of never having to put up with crusty drunkards appealed to him. Heck, maybe he'd even return to Dawngleam near by and take up fishing.
"Mister Pekham, mind you tell master Aldus to change our colours. We don't want our Westgate flag flying in Cormyr waters." He orders the young man at his door.
"Aye Cap...."
A pop is heard far off in the distance, echoing over the quiet waters. Seconds stand still as the mister Pekham finished addressing his captain. Then comes the crash, the splinters, the shouts and alarms. He could hear his first mate ringing the warning bell above deck. Without realizing it, he had been thrown back by whatever hit their hull. His cabin door laying on top of him.
Captain Ilbertus tries shouting for his men and not but a gasp escapes his lips. His chest is wet. He feels around but cannot move his arms. In fact, he cannot seem to be able to move at all. He closes his eyes to collect himself as panic takes over. More explosive sounds of metal crashing into splintering wood echoes through his cabin. A cold and running sensation trickles into his boots and he soon realizes sea water is rising around him.
"Blast this life, blast smuggling and blast making deals with the fat devil," he curses at himself. And with his last breath, as the cold waters of the Dragonmere envelope him, he gives thanks to his lovely ship the "Pyke" as they both slowly sink down into the depths along with it's cargo.
The Captain looks up from his maps. Probably one of his men telling him they've approached the area known as The Neck, the straight between the Dragonmere and the Sea of Fallen Stars. Captain Illbertus rises from his desk and makes for his cabin door, cracking it open.
"Aye?" he asks.
"Capt'n. We be near'n the straight. First mate Adlus told me t'come 'n let ye know."
Just as the captain goes to close his cabin door, the crew mate mutters a quick question.
"Cap'n, do it be true wha' the lads say? Do it be true 'bout the crates below?"
Sailors can be an awfully superstitious bunch. Ilbertus learned long ago to let them keep to their superstitions and beliefs but not encourage them. Some of these fools can turn into awful crack pots aboard his ship at times. He doesn't need his crew ranting about curses and the lot.
"No lad. Don't you worry 'bout our cargo. You'll be paid 'nuff when we get to Valkurs Roar."
Smuggling was a dirty business but someone had to do it. He knew of the dangers of the crates below deck but the reward far outweighed the risk. He could collect, pay his men his men and sail off into retirement. The idea of never having to put up with crusty drunkards appealed to him. Heck, maybe he'd even return to Dawngleam near by and take up fishing.
"Mister Pekham, mind you tell master Aldus to change our colours. We don't want our Westgate flag flying in Cormyr waters." He orders the young man at his door.
"Aye Cap...."
A pop is heard far off in the distance, echoing over the quiet waters. Seconds stand still as the mister Pekham finished addressing his captain. Then comes the crash, the splinters, the shouts and alarms. He could hear his first mate ringing the warning bell above deck. Without realizing it, he had been thrown back by whatever hit their hull. His cabin door laying on top of him.
Captain Ilbertus tries shouting for his men and not but a gasp escapes his lips. His chest is wet. He feels around but cannot move his arms. In fact, he cannot seem to be able to move at all. He closes his eyes to collect himself as panic takes over. More explosive sounds of metal crashing into splintering wood echoes through his cabin. A cold and running sensation trickles into his boots and he soon realizes sea water is rising around him.
"Blast this life, blast smuggling and blast making deals with the fat devil," he curses at himself. And with his last breath, as the cold waters of the Dragonmere envelope him, he gives thanks to his lovely ship the "Pyke" as they both slowly sink down into the depths along with it's cargo.