• PM To Join • Smooth Sailing? Nope.

[Kraken]

Ymiden 64, Second Break, Arc 716

Part of what propelled Malcolm from his dream was the sudden jarring of the ship he traveled upon, and the yell of sailors up above. As he came to wakefullness, the sound of tortured wood, howling winds and pouring rain would reach his ears.

This was after all Ymiden, and while the weather was often fine, it was also hurricane season. Hopefully this was only a regular storm. The crew of the vessel were more than experienced enough to sail through such, and even in a hurricane, as long as they could outrun it, their odds were quite good. Still, there was a worrying note of panic in some of the voices.

The ship lurched again, and someone alert and observant enough might note that while the ship was certainly moving more than it had been the rest of the journey, and was clearly in rough waters, the jarring seemed to be going against the ships own movement...

"Damned storm must've driven the bastards right into us!"

"Dun't matter none now! Get the bloody crossbow bolts!"

"SHIT, someone get on that rope a'fore we lose the sail!"

"Fuck the sail! If we don't get the cursed thing down we'll loose the whole bloody mast!"

Voices barely intelligible, muffled by wood and weather, but pitched to carry all the same by men used to yelling over the elements.

[Malcolm]

Malcolm leaned back in the hammock and was forced to hold his arms out suddenly, stopping himself from going into the wall as the ship tipped forward and the hammock swung wildly. He rolled out of his makeshift bed and picked up a lamp that had fallen to the floor from a nearby table, fixing it to the wall on a hook quickly before rubbing his hands together to remove the sticky wax that had spilled from the catch tray.
Stumbling to the cabin door he made his way out into the corridor and looked down the hall to find some of the crew ushering people back into their cabins and telling them to sit tight and make sure everything was tied down securely. He helped a woman and her young son back to their cabin after noticing her struggling against the rail and followed some of the crew to see if there wasn't anymore he could help with.
"Please return to your cabin," one of them told him just beyond the hallway, an older man with greying hair. Malcolm took hold of the rail as the ship tipped forwards again, obviously going over another wave.
"What's going on?" Malcolm called, he had suffered through storms before but this seemed like more than that.
"Back to your room!" The man insisted.
The main mast groaned and the sails slapped in the wind. Malcolm looked up overhead and grabbed hold of a stray rope one of the younger crew members has failed to hold onto. "I can help!" He assured them, but before the man answered he was summoned away by some kind of warning signal.

[Kraken]

"Thrice-damned Keel-saws is what's going on! Hold onto that aye mate?"

A wild eyed sailor joined Malcolm, rough hands also taking hold of the rope, helping to control the wildly flapping sail, giving those who were climbing the rigging's a fighting chance of wrestling it down without being knocked off. Anyone who went overboard was likely lost.

"Storm must've blown 'em into us! Big'un and it's whelps! Chrien have mercy on us!"

The wind was making the waves hard to predict, sending them this way and that. When most people thought of waves they might imagine them tall and rough, white-capped, but always proceeding politely in a straight line, predictable, navigable. Not so with these winds, hot and strong and changing direction quick as a fickle lover. It was these winds that made it so imperative the sail be taken down, they were too strong and unpredictable, and with full sails out, threatened to tear the entire mast down.

"THERE!"

Came a yell from one side of the ship where men with crossbows were gathered, one was pointing into the churning water, where a dark shape could be seen. A good twenty-five feet long it was clearly about to pass below the ship, and knowing the habits of the Keel-saw Sea Dragons, to do more damage to the ship, bringing it that much closer to sinking. Several bolts were loosed, with the hope that the smaller and probably younger Keel-saw's hides would be more penetrable than a full grown adults.

[Malcolm]

There was no point calling upon Chrien in a storm, Malcolm thought the words without speaking them, she was just as likely to be down there feasting on the bones of men as the Keel-Saw were. The rope pulled as another gust of wind caught the sail, dragging it through the man's hands to rub them raw. When the sail was finally let down, the tension on the rope slackened and the movement of the young Keel-Saw diving down under the large ship saw it rock, as if picked up by a wave, only to be thrown to one side. The crew were tossed across the deck, and anyone who had failed to hold on to something slammed into the rail.
Malcolm checked to see that the man behind him who had helped with the rope was all right before reaching for a weapon, a stray harpoon on a rope that had slid across the deck. He picked it up and returned it to the man stationed at one side of the boat, ready and waiting for the Keel-Saw to return again.
"They are young!" Malcolm acknowledged and held on tight to the rail. "Their mother is probably teaching them to hunt, and when better than a storm?"
The knight then watched as a silver, saw-like fin came up out of the water, a sight that made most sailors weak at the knees, and Malcolm was no exception. He edged away from the side of the ship and watched as the man with the harpoon heaved the weapon into the sea, the rope catching around an iron cleat, used namely for docking the ship, as it was put under strain.
"I've got one!" The sailor cried.
The boat jerked again, this time under the force of the hooked Keel-Saw, thrashing about in the water, attempting to break free. Malcolm put his right hand on the hilt of his longsword, not sure that antagonising a small school of angry scavengers was such a wise decision. If they didn't kill it quickly, or at least slow it down enough to stop it from tearing off a piece off the ship, Malcolm had convinced himself that cutting the rope would be the best option.