A Matter of Honour

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A Matter of Honour

Post by Khamul on Fri Sep 02, 2011 6:30 pm

The cold night sky was accented by the numerous fires of Capuan trade ships. It was a slightly foggy night, but it was due to clear up. General Cirach’s war ship was carried powerfully through the murky waters. Nothing could be seen from the distance but some lanterns. If smoking was healthy, Cirach would be doing that. He was raised to be as fit and healthy, smart, calculating, clever and strong and humanly possible. But the ‘people’ he was up against weren’t human. He didn’t want to underestimate them, but he knew that if they were cowardly enough to strike a civilian village. He developed a very strong hatred for elves, but in a second reconsidered. It was that almost childish realization that things aren’t black or white. Cirach, or any of the men of Curaidach, had a childhood. Such little childish mannerisms were allowed, he supposed.

He turned back and seen seven medium sized sloops trailing behind him, each with three cannons, on both starboard and port. In total, forty two cannons trailed behind him. His warship had two frontal cannons and five on each side. The ships were lined with fine wood and black steel trimmings. The sails were a dark greyish colour, with a shield bearing the insignia of a striking hawk. Each soldier was outfitter with the best of the Dynasty with the officers having broad cutlass swords, a musket pistol and a hand bow (compact crossbow). The general marine soldiers had musket rifles, with bayonets, and a satchel with three small powder bombs. As a sidearm they had only a short sword. The soldiers on this particular mission were well equipped. And for good reason. All in all, there were 20 in each sloop, and 40 on the warship. Together, there was around 180 strong men, trained from their childhood, all about 20-25 years of age. The officers were called the ‘old breed’. They weren’t out of their mid-thirties.

General Cirach spotted wreckage, that one of the sloop-captains claimed was a "fresh kill"

There were a few men spotted scrambling onto the wreckage, some of it still having flickering embers on them. As the only Basic speaker in the small sea-going convoy, Cirach spoke up:

“What way did your assailants move?”

“Let me… Let me on!” Screeched the Capuan, who was obviously a few minutes away from hypothermia. He was hauled aboard. The thickly accented Cirach may have intimidated the… Thing. He assumed it was a Dwarf. He had never seen one before. It was shorter than him, but not as exaggeratedly short as they are commonly depicted. Cirach once more said:

“What direction did Theron move?”

“I… I will show you!”

He hobbled up to the steering wheel and muttered "West... West!"

He pointed to the compass. Cirach nearly cringed from the patronisation from the dwarf. But he realised his own accent may not have been perfect. They sailed north and seen more wreckage. It was going to be a long night, and probably a few hours until anything really conclusive turned up.
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Re: A Matter of Honour

Post by Oberon on Fri Sep 02, 2011 6:51 pm

OOC: Whoa whoa whoa. No rolls for intelligence, no regard for how long the people had been at sea, and you miraculously find Theron's trail? I reiterate, again, that the ocean is BIG.
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Re: A Matter of Honour

Post by Khamul on Fri Sep 02, 2011 7:00 pm

OOC: I replied to this on the other thread. I'm trying to find the source and anticipating enemy contact. Im currently heading in the general direction of erynnen, finding whatever wreckage I can. I also departed like, an hour or under after the attacks. My men are trained all their live for preparation of shit like this.
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Re: A Matter of Honour

Post by Khamul on Sat Sep 03, 2011 7:53 am

Cirach wanted to throw that dwarf overboard. The trail ran cold. Maybe it wouldn't have if they didn't stop to help him, but it was no matter. Cirach thought that if he did, he would become as much of a spineless whelp as Theron.

The ship turned round, bound for the strait. Days passed. They docked with one of their ports and were resupplied, restocked and all had rests. They got up the next day to see four frigates and five sloops to join their fleet. This meant in total, seventeen ships and four hundred men. They sailed through the strait, hoping to meet up with a larger republic fleet. They flown their colors high.
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