Direlette ip Lancan leaned over the railing of The Black Widow, closing her eyes slowly as she felt the slight sting of the briny air needle her face and throat. Ahh, but it felt good to be headed back home again, back to the Isles of Myst. No plague, no competition in the smuggling trade...Hopefully she would get some answers about Lashette soon, but for now, the smell of the sea and the tang of the air was enough for contentment. The Black Widow was a dark ship tailed by a darker secret. Clouds began to build in the air, foreboding in color, and the winds seemed not to guide their course. In fact, they seemed to be following the ship below, cutting through the waters like a knife. A faint thrumming sound filled the air, much like the buzzing of a thousand insects, all on the same path. The movement of the clouds was odd enough, but odder still was the fog that roiled on a path with the midnight clouds, flowing over the water's surface. Direlette took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the salty air, then she turned and lazily called to Amil, her first mate, "Boyo...what time do you think we shall hit the Isle? It's growing dark, and I'd like to take inventory before you set sail in two days hence." She turned back to the railing, and looked out over the sea, a small frown appearing as she heard the strange sound. The weather seemed to be turning drastically...a storm brewing, perhaps? A strange one, too it seemed. Direlette shifted a little uneasily, turning back to watch her crew milling on deck. It was if they, too, felt something strange upon the winds. The usual boisterous laughter had slowly became more subdued, until finally, it fell silent on deck. She put her fingers to her mouth and let out a single sharp whistle, a signal to bring Amil to her side. "Well, well..,� a voice called, amplified by the hollowness of the air as the clouds and fog slowly began to part. From within the darkness came something that at first looked like a gigantic black blade, then it quickly became evident that it was attached to the prow of the slowly emerging ship behind it. Startled, Direlette faltered and spun around at the sound of a voice...and then her heart skipped a beat as she watched the approaching ship, her black eyes wide with shock. "Looks as if we FINALLY get t'see who's got th' better ship, eh, Direlette?" Merik's voice called out, ringing smoothly in the air. The sharp brogue was easily identifiable, even if he was, as yet, unseen. And still, the ship emerged. One hundred yards of midnight and crimson war galleon, made from pieces of dragons long since dead. The hull itself was covered with dragonshide, giving it a very serpentine appearance, not to mention the dragon's horns functioning as wings on the port and stern, and the two as main-masts on the deck itself. On a smaller, metallic mast, flew the standard of Merik Blackwater, a dragon's skull pierced by twin silver blades. As the ship came into sight and she heard that hated voice, Direlette paled slightly, clenching her jaw as Amil came running up behind her, cutlass drawn. Her knuckles began to turn white as she gripped the railing, fear and anger rising within her to war with one another. Reaching out one hand to still Amil, who was cursing a stream of oaths, she took a deep breath and then called out, gaze firmly fastened on the pirate ship that lay in her path, �And a welcome to you too, Merik. Alas, we meet on the open seas, and here I thought you'd come calling earlier, with a bottle of wine perhaps. What can I help you with?� "Yer cargo, dearling. A cargo which I will, if'n nae given freely, forcibly pry from yer ship, as I rip it apart." was the pirate�s reply as he stepped into view on the main deck of the massive flying vessel. His rapier was in hand, lifted high, longcoat fluttering in the wind. A wry grin curved his lips, as at the signal of the weapon, the main turret mounted cannons swivelled, aim lowering towards the Black Widow below. Direlette stood motionless, a silent figure in black...and then she began to laugh. The laugh, quiet at first, grew slowly louder until Merik could not help but discern that it was genuine mirth which prompted her laughter, not scorn. There was little in The Black Widow�s hold as the schooner had only harboured a distance from Drache to retrieve Direlette from the mainland, not goods. She calls to him, "Merik, ya old wart. Don't be like that...You're welcome on board. Put your damned weapons away and get your ass over here." "Heh. Nothin fer me, Direlette?" Merik asked with a grin, flicking his eyes up towards the rapier he held overhead. "Well, I dinna let many see th' 'Bringer an' live, dearling. Looks like yer gonna 'ave t' go down with th' ship," he stated flatly, giving her a violet-eyed wink. Direlette smirked, whispering to Amil from the corner of her mouth, "Get the second and third mates together on board, and bring me the mage. Tell the rest of the crew to ready the cannons. If I can't convince him to come over...we may have to fight it out. Bring the ship to starboard, and quickly." She then turned back to Merik and smiled warmly. "Merik...I've already seen you, and pfft...what of your ship? Surely you and I, both captains, can come to some kind of friendly...agreement?" "Agreement?" smirked the pirate, pondering this briefly, and for a moment it almost looked as if he'd go along with it. Instead he murmered, "Nae, nae deal. 'ave a nice swim." As he dropped the rapier in a swift downward swing, the cannons answered his signal with a thunderous roar. Before being fired the balls were lit within the chambers and covered with a sticky, flammable substance, and as they flew towards the Black Widow, they were fireballs, in every sense. Direlette cursed soundly, turning and screaming for the mage, Cashis before spinning around and glowering at Merik. She began to bark out orders to swing the ship around, knowing that her schooner was much faster than his galleon, but nonetheless...could it turn quickly enough before being damaged enough to sink? As the first of the cannonballs fell short of the ship by a good ten feet, she backed away...just in time to see another ball fall upon the deck where she'd been standing. Direlette growled beneath her breath and stomped away from the foredeck, grabbing a skinny little man by the arm and shaking him. "Get casting, you stupid, mangy little mutt!! Can't you see we're under attack?" With that, she turned and started hollering at a few sailors to go below deck to check out the damage. The twin dragon's wings as sails attached to the main 'mast' spread wide, and the massive vessel swung around quickly, putting it parallel to the smaller ship below. An odd tactic it seemed, until the rear cannons, turret mounted as well, could be seen drawing aim on the Black Widow in the water. The rear cannons seemed to glow, powered by the crystal below the dragonhide armored deck. Direlette began to pace her ship, alternately cursing and yelling at her men as they scurried around frantically. It had been a long time since they�d had to do battle, and some of the newer men had yet to find their niche in the order. Spinning around and glaring at Merik's ship with narrowed eyes, she crossed her arms and watched to see if whatever mumbojumbo the mage was casting worked. The mage fearfully began to mutter a few words, backing up as his hands described weird symbols in the air, and the spell *Grease* was quickly unleashed, spreading a thick, slippery goop on the Hellbringer�s deck in the vicinity of several cannons. "Tha's ALL ye got?!" Merik laughed loudly, as several of his men slipped and fell. The gunnery crew seated at the turret mounted weapons, however, were pretty much unaffected by the slick surfaces. Shaking his head, Merik murmured, "Fire," and his reply was the rear cannons which let fly a volley of, not cannonballs, but thin magic beams in a brief but deadly show of crimson and pure white light, compliments of the crystal below deck, each beam aimed for the main deck of the black widow. -- To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] with "unsubscribe dragontales" in the body of the message.
