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Post by Ladorak on Jun 4, 2011 10:30:50 GMT -5
Saumarez could hear (what he thought was) Pip quacking away inside the dress. He lifted a brow. He knew she had brought a duck from Ferlusan, but he assumed she had left it behind in Plymouth. Hearing it inside of her dress... well that was another matter entirely. Just what was it doing and... where was it, for that matter?
"Yes..." He said, looking over at Guernsey. "That's it. It's very green this time of year, though rarely gets snow because of the ocean." He was considering asking her about Pip, and lowering his voice to do so, but before he could, noises sounded out from all around him.
The erupting tumult caused the weasel's head to jerk in the direction of where the lookouts seemed to be pointing. He darted forward, drawing his spyglass out and whipping it open in one smooth motion. There were frigates... several of them from the looks of things... but also two more. It appeared to be two 36 gun frigates, and a 14 gun brig or so, but the two in front caused a slightly greater cause for alarm.
Scévola and Brutus were their names. They appeared much larger than the frigates, and though they only had one gun deck, Saumarez was willing to bet they were cut down 74s. 74s that were considered too old to remain in service yet not old enough to be broken up were sometimes cut down, or had their upper gun decks removed, and made into faster, yet still deadly warships. They generally mounted around 50 guns instead of 74, but that's what made this all the more disturbing. They would have the speed of a frigate, but the firepower of a lower end two decker. They could throw a 25 gun broadside to his 18.
"That's... not good. Clear for action! We've got what looks to be a brig, two frigates and two cut downs coming at us!" he shouted, slapping the spyglass closed. Generally only Rosferia implemented the cut down tactic, and the Rosferian flags flying from the taffrails were proof enough.
"Rosferians, my dear." he said, walking back up to Steep. The crews were starting to scamper about now, clearing the ship and making it ready for action. Nets were broken out and brought fore and aft, to serve as protection from falling debris over the forecastle and quarterdeck. "I don't think they want to wish us well on our wedding day, either." he commented, turning to his Lieutenants. That was the disadvantage of living so close to the Rosferian coast. While they Rosferians never attempted to regain Jersey and Guernsey, they most certainly sent their navy out to patrol the water lanes around the two islands.
"Tell the Eurydice to make sail for Guernsey, as she's the worst sailor among us. The Crescent and Druid will hold the approaching enemy off while the Eurydice effects her escape. Once she's stretched on far enough ahead, we'll make more sail and head to the island." he delivered his instructions flawlessly, not hitching or cracking once.
His first Lieutenant, after he saluted along with the others, glanced over in Steep's direction. "Erm... sir... shouldn't we be the ones..."
"What? Effecting our escape? I'm surprised you'd even consider such a thing! A good commander NEVER leaves a comrade behind... we'll be fine. We will defend this ship with the full honor and audacity as befits a Welkinite vessel, and we will not be forced into surrendering. Now then, will that be all?" the least weasel Captain asked.
"Yes sir... that will be all." the Lieutenant nodded, and glanced over at the rather larger force bearing down on them.
"Of all the things to suggest..." Saumarez muttered, turning back to Steep. "Did you bring a weapon? If not... we have plenty to choose from. Pistols, rifles, pikes, poleaxes, swords, daggers, tomahawks, and paw grenades. Just be careful with the latter... don't want to blow up our ship after all." he said, chuckling a little. "If you want one of those, I'll either take you down to the gun room, or have a Midshipjack fetch one for you." he offered, knowing it was probably useless to suggest she stay out of this. He doubted they would be boarded, but just in case, he wanted to be ready for it.
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Post by spender on Jun 13, 2011 21:35:50 GMT -5
Steep glided to the bulwarks and dug her claws into the wooden railing. She stared out at the Rosferian ships, at the Eurydice pulling away, and wished her wedding dress had a pocket for her cigar case.
"I've got my pistol and sabre," she said quietly. "My whole uniform... Can't change now, though." She jabbed a thumb at the direction of Saumarez's cabin, which was being dismantled—a process that severely confused her two maids, who were trying to keep her luggage out of the way. "Am I supposed to fight in this? My father will kill m...you."
She glanced at the Eurydice again. She was fairly certain her father was on that ship, and not the Druid. He certainly wasn't on the Crescent, because he wasn't sobbing all over her at the moment.
She stomped her footpaw, which resulted in a very un-wedding-dress-like thump, and a muted hiss from the startled Pip.
How dare they! On her wedding day! Did those cheese-grubbing, neck-slicing nutters have any sense of style? She thought not!
"Very well," she decided. "I will require a rifle and some grenades, and a place to change."
Turning, she barked some orders in Ferlusanian at her maids, and they grabbed one of her chests and lugged it over to her. Then she lifted her dress, and they reached under to haul Pip out and stick him back in his cage.
"Honestly," Steep said, "that duck seems to be bad luck."
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Post by Ladorak on Jun 15, 2011 23:44:52 GMT -5
Saumarez was going to say something witty along the lines of them both being capable of going as feral weasels into battle, with no clothes, but he wasn't sure how his crew would take that. He nodded, and motioned for her to follow after him. "I'm not sure I can guarantee you privacy enough to change, but I CAN get you a rifle and some grenades. This way!"
He moved for the companionway, heading down a flight of stairs. Too bad all these partitions were being removed... wait! An idea struck him then. "Actually." he said, pausing in mid step. "I have an idea on where you could change BUT... it might be a little unpleasant." He said, frowning. "There are a few places that still have walls around them. One is the hold, but there are crewbeasts down there taking my personal possessions and everything else movable with them to that spot. The other two spots... are the officers' latrines." he explained. "You can lock yourself in one, and there should be plenty of room, especially in the aft ones, which are mine. I have two, as you know. Won't find any down here I'm afraid, as frigates don't really have a wardroom, they just have a gun room where the officers eat. So how about this. You go back up to my cabin, change in one of the galleries, and I'll continue on to the gun room, pick up your weapons, and either meet you in my cabin, or halfway/somewhere in between?" he asked, running this idea by her.
"I'm sorry you have to change out of something so beautiful, and I'd almost say fight in it, because you'll just have to get changed again, as I plan to sail RIGHT on up to that chapel, so that we don't waste any more time." he said, grinning at her. "Ahhhh my. What a quandary." he said, shaking his head. "So how does that sound, at any rate? I wish the Rosferians had much better timing of course, but since we can't exactly help that... weeeeeell we'll just have to make do with what we have. Oh... and you look stunning by the way." he said, in case he hadn't mentioned it before, as he honestly couldn't remember.
Fortunately, his galleries were kept fairly clean by the Stewards, so she probably wouldn't have much trouble at least.
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Post by spender on Jun 18, 2011 16:54:04 GMT -5
Steep was on edge. More than usual, that is.
On the one paw: get her dress dirty with soot, blood, and who knew what else that went flying through the air in a naval battle.
On the other: changing in a latrine. And then having to change back.
She followed after Saumarez uncertainly, unable to make the decision on her own. His final quip sealed it for her: she was stunning, and the Rosferians would have to pry her out of the dress with jemmy bars.
"Wick that," she said, grinning toothily (and what sharp toothies) at Saumarez. She shrugged on her Captain's jacket overtop her dress and jammed her beret down on her head; she would return for her pistol and sabre later. "My father will just have to deal with the fact that I am a weasel of action."
She reached out and tucked his nose between two of her claws. "Quack."
This seemed to produce a few seconds of stunned silence from the weasel jack. Steep waved at the passage they were taking through the ship.
"Lead on?"
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Post by Ladorak on Jun 20, 2011 22:29:23 GMT -5
She apparently liked the idea of not getting out of the dress. That was fine with him. She reached out to pinch his nose... or something, and a quack once again sounded, though it was from Steep, and not the duck.
He found himself smiling in rather a goofy manner, as he was caught a little by surprise at her antics. Speaking of ducks thought... that duck better have a sitter for tonight. He wasn't sure how she'd feel about their wedding night, but he certainly didn't wish for a pet to be getting in the way of any... intimacy. He started off down the gun deck, heading for the gun room. He wasn't even sure if she'd WANT to get... close to him after their wedding, but he'd just have to wait and see. He couldn't even tell how he personally felt on it either. Did he want it to come to pass? Was he looking for something more? Less? He honestly couldn't say, and the dull rumbling from up above gave him an indication that his allies were taking fire... and that was NOT good. He wanted HIS vessel to be the one drawing the fire, not the Druid or Eurydice.
"Sounds like trouble up there. We may have to make ourselves... a bit more of a prominent target. I'm not having my squadron get captured on my watch after all. I wish to lure them in towards shore, and then make use of a little known passage that I doubt they'll attempt to even utilize to follow me in. It looks almost impassable, but my pilot assures me he's taken the route before, and I'm willing to try it today." Saumarez explained as they reached the weapons' chests.
Opening one up, he drew a musket out and pawed it over to her. "That's army issue... for the Marines, so it should be more familiar to you. And some grenades." he closed the lid of the first and moved on to the second. He pulled out a few iron orbs, and pawed them over as well. "Those are for you. As said, just be careful. Don't use unless close range." he said, giving her a smile and a wink.
"Now... need anything else, or all set? I should probably get back up there and find out WHY they're not firing on us. If they aren't, I shall have to correct that soon enough." he said, a certain light entering his eyes. He was about to step away from the chests when he stopped, remembering something. "Oh... since I may not get a chance to ask you again, before we well... you know, sail right up to the chapel," he waved a claw in a thoughtful manner. "Priscilla." he stood up, nearly bumping his head on the low ceiling as he remembered that it wasn't a good idea to do that in here.
"I know you said we're duty bound, and of course we are. I was wondering though... how do you... ack, never mind." he said, shaking his head. "Shouldn't be asking that now. You ready, then?" he asked, looking her over. He wanted to know rather desperately how she personally felt about it. Probably not all that good, though he couldn't be sure. He didn't wish to burden her though, as she didn't seem to like those sorts of questions.
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Post by spender on Jun 21, 2011 21:49:46 GMT -5
"How do I...?" she repeated. "Fit into this dress? Wink with one eye? Feel about getting married?" She chortled a bit. "Better, I think. Ready—that's to both questions."
Steep slipped the grenades to her pockets and ran her paws up and down the musket's stock. "It's been a while... Haven't fired a Welkin rifle since Gibraltar." Or a few weeks ago, depending on your definition... "Still, a gun's a gun, unless you've changed the order of loading it." She glanced up sharply, biting her lip.
"It is still the same, yes? And, um, how much are you thinking—I forget the word! Paw-to-paw fighting, on the ship. Boarders, that's it. Will there be? Fighting? Or just..." Here, Steep made a sound she had more or less memorized the first time Saumarez had visited her at fort St. Antoine: "Prkww! With the cannons."
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 1, 2011 11:53:46 GMT -5
It turned out he most likely did not need to ask his question. "I... suppose I was going to ask how you felt about the marriage, but it's really not the proper time." he stated, inwardly relieved that she'd said she felt better. That was an improvement at least. It meant she certainly didn't feel worse, when she could have.
"Oh! Of course!" he quickly ran back into the gun room, heading to the stern again in order to open up another one of the weapon chests. With a creak, the lid rose, and the weasel reached around inside for a leather cartridge and ammunition pouch and belt. "Here." He said, holding it out for her to wear around her waist (wouldn't THAT look unique... and maybe a little attractive!). "Can't very well fire muskets without powder or bullets, of course. And yes, it's the exact same. Hasn't changed since then, so you should be good."
He now began heading back out, hoping to get into a more brightly lit area, so that she could see a bit better in order to fit on that belt. "As far as boarding is going to go... I don't think so." He shook his head. "We're outnumbered rather heavily here, and my goal is to draw them away from my squadron and have them chase me around for a bit... BUT... I promise to pass close enough to them at some point in order to give you some action." He said, giving her a wink. "We'd better do so, as it looks like they aren't chasing me... but rather my two cohorts."
He took the stairs two at a time, being careful not to trip as he ran out into the bright daylight. Sure enough, he could see that the Rosferian squadron was bearing down on the Druid and Eurydice, and that simply wouldn't do.
"Quartermaster! I want you to take us down the lee side of the Rosferians! Pass them from stern to bow! We're going to fire a broadside into each ship, and then wear towards Guernsey. If that doesn't get them to chase us, I don't know what will." Saumarez muttered that last bit, cursing under his breath now. "Set more sail and catch up with them! Pass along their line! Come on!" he urged, and the Boatswain immediately got the skeleton crew that remained out on the deck into the rigging, as Saumarez was going to set the courses, something you normally did not do in battle, but an action which at the same time would provide extra speed.
The topgallants would be given more canvas as well, and Saumarez orderd that two more jibs (outer and flying) be set at the bow. He wanted speed, and he was going to get it. It would of course present the Rosferians with a magnificent target of sails to shoot at, but the weasel wanted to attract their attention, and he wasn't going to stop until he got it. The Brutus was the rearmost ship, and already they were drawing close to her stern on the lee or in this case larboard side.
"Ready the starboard batteries! I want a broadside delivered the moment we draw even with that overgrown former two decker!" he barked. The Crescent, being a real frigate and not a cut down, was by far the faster ship, and Saumarez knew they would have any problems in catching up.
The jibs and courses were set, the topgallants given their full stretch of canvas, and the frigate gained speed, closing the gap between the Rosferian squadron and itself. "Pass close by on their larboard side! Within musket shot! I want to throw everything we've got at them! Don't bother shortening sail, but just keep running down the length of their line!" The Quartermaster gulped at these instructions, but nodded in understanding. Sometimes, he really didn't like the fact that his Captain was so bold, and wished he'd get hazard pay for this, though of course that simply didn't exist.
"Now then, Priscilla, I recommend you get your musket ready, as well as a few of those grenades. We're going to be passing very close by, and this will be your chance. MARINES! TO THE STARBOARD GUNWALES!" he yelled, ensuring that the redcoats would now be rushing over to the "breastworks" on the starboard side of the ship.
"As a matter of fact..." he murmured, looking around him for something in particular. He was happy to note that at his side hung a pistol, though why it was there he couldn't say. Ceremonial reasons for the wedding? Either way, he had one. "Ah yes, silly me." he said, remembering something very important. He reached up, and unpinned the epaulettes from his shoulders. "Can't very well make myself a conspicuous target, now can I?" he chuckled, shoving the gold braid into his pockets. He looked rather like the Lieutenants on the ship now, as there was nothing else on his uniform to set him apart, aside from his white dress pants of course, but he couldn't change those, due to the approaching wedding. Otherwise, he would have donned the blue battle trousers long ago.
He moved up to the quarterdeck, and over to the gunwale as he drew his pistol. He was going to get a slice of this action, even though it was highly improper for a Captain to be doing this sort of thing in combat. He wanted to draw as much attention to his ship as he could, and firing away with his sidearm might even make them think he wasn't the Captain at all.
"Lieutenant!" he called over to a red coated Marine officer nearby. "Give me a cartridge!" he ordered, and the Lieutenant, a little confused, headed over to paw over this request. "Thank you!" he quickly said, and bit into the cartridge, pouring a third of the black powder into the flash pan, and simply dropping the rest of the package (it contained the powder in one section, and the musket ball in the other) down the barrel, using the small, pistol sized ramrod to drive it home.
Replacing the rammer, Saumarez cocked the hammer all the way back, but kept his thumb on top if it to prevent it from prematurely going off in case he accidently did depress the trigger. He wasn't going to bother with the safety, as there wasn't time.
Already the Brutus was looming before them, and the startled Rosferian crew were scrambling to get their larboard batteries run out and ready, as they hadn't been expecting an attack from this quarter. Saumarez sighted down his barrel, muttering a few things to himself as tried to pick out a target. "READY! AND... FIRE!" he shouted, to which the Midshipjack on the main deck yelled the order down to the gun deck, and the Lieutenants passed the command along.
In just a few seconds after his command was given, the starboard side of the Crescent angrily exploded, the 16 gun broadside going off and rocking the ship, and the battle was on.
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Post by spender on Jul 2, 2011 22:18:02 GMT -5
Some lonely, dutifull part of Steep blanched at the idea of Saumarez taking his epaulets off. The rest of her approved greatly. She always loathed the idea of carrying standards into battle, however necessary it often was. At the very least they could not bunch up near the commanding officers as a big flapping target. She wondered how much of a target she herself was: certainly her jacket and beret stood her out, and then her white dress...
She loaded her gun carefully—both of them. She kept quiet, letting the bustle of the ship pass by around her. A wave of nostalgia swept through her skull, ebbing against the pain. It suddenly felt like it was only yesterday that she was shouting orders and Saumarez was trying to keep out of the way.
She found in her possession a few matches, for her grenades. The temptation to light one of her cigars was overwhelming. She began patting her pocket for her case, but then it was Time.
A chirping laugh erupted from her throat at the realization that she didn't need to close one eye to sight down her musket barrel. It soon evolved into a full-fledged balmy cackle. Not that anybeast could hear it; all the guns went off, Saumarez's pistol and the marine's rifles... everything but Steep's musket.
She waited, ears ringing, smoke clouding the space between ships, and steadied herself against the sudden jolt. A cat of some breed was staggering on the Rosferian ship, dazed by the attack. Steep pressed herself against the gunwale and aimed. The crack of her weapon was a polite sneeze compared to the noise preceding it. By then the smoke from the guns obscured everything before her—she never knew if she got her cat or not.
"This is fun," she said, beaming at her fiance. "Why haven't they fired back yet?"
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 5, 2011 22:23:46 GMT -5
Puffs of smoke and loud booms sounded out, following by the whooshing of wind over Steep's head, as if in answer to her question. "They just weren't ready!" Saumarez shouted back, smiling. A few lines snapped, cut by the flying shot, but overall the Rosferians seemed to have hurried their broadside out, and weren't ready to be attacked on their larboard side. They should have done far worse damage, but Saumarez's surprise tactic had worked.
He took aim and squeezed off a shot, unsure if he hit anything through the smoke. At least one officer went down, but it was hard to tell if it was from his own shot, or from one of the marines.
They tore ahead, quickly outpacing the larger Brutus, and started to stretch on, toward the Scevola. The former wouldn't be fast enough to catch up, but it could still hope that her compatriots would be a bit better prepared than she had been, and that Saumarez's pesky little ship could be disabled and brought to bay.
As it was, Saumarez doubted it, and he moved to stand a little closer to his fiancee. "Just like Toulon, eh? Except this time... well we won't really 'win' per se, but we shan't lose either!" he exclaimed, biting into another cartridge and spitting the fragment back out with a "pfft". Readying his pistol as he poured a smidgen of powder into the flash pan, he then dumped the rest of the package down the barrel, and once more started to ram it home.
"Ah... here we are... just about to head up to their second cut down. How many grenades did you grab? Mind if I use one?" he asked, shooting her a bit of a grin as they began to close distance on the second of the two former 74s turned 50s. It would be a few moments, but it looked as if he was certainly getting their attention. The crew of the Scevola seemed just as shocked as those on the Brutus had been, and they too were scrambling to get their larboard batteries ready. "Seems we've caught them by complete surprise." he stated, giving them a very determined look. He was the hunter now... hunting a target much bigger than himself, and planned to tear into their back before making off towards his "den".
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Post by spender on Jul 5, 2011 23:44:06 GMT -5
"Three," Steep grunted. She cursed loudly; she had stabbed her own paw with her ramrod, misjudging the location of the barrel of her pistol. She'd always been rubbish at loading since her decade-long break, but this was ridiculous! "And they're mine! Get your own."
The humour in her voice was evident, as she grinned up at him and pawed over one of the grenades.
She was in her element, if not her comfort zone. There was something special about ships—a certain solitude they offered, not unlike a good, strong fort. And yet they offered mobility, something she, as a fighter on land, sorely missed with large groups. Most battles ended up being lines of soldiers thrust at one-another like swordfish wielded by blindfolded kits, awkward and unpredictable. It was only one-on-one in the midst of such encounters that the spirit of a soldier truly shone, weaving and ducking between enemies, nipping behind the lines. The ship offered this sensation; it was a beast of the sea, dueling its larger, clumsier enemies with weasel-like speed.
Yet this very thing she admired she found herself frustrated with, for it stole from her her own action. She wanted to leap the gap between ships and bring her blade to their throats, to stalk among the crew as a predator. As long as that was denied her, she knew she could never truly fall in love with the way the navies fought.
"Seems we've caught them by complete surprise."
Steep glanced down at her wedding dress.
"Them?" she repeated blankly. Were the Rosferians truly surprised? She had to wonder. Was it not they that sighted the three Welkin vessels first? How could they not be prepared to fight, yet give chase all the same? It boggled.
Furthermore, the last ship's salvo had barely hit the Crescent at all; Steep would have called it a warning shot. After the way Saumarez's guns had battered against its hull, it was startling to see them completely ignore the obvious meat of the vessel. Was it some kind of signal, or part of some polite custom, to fire the first shots intentionally missing? She would question him on this later.
For now, her pistol was reloaded, as was her musket, and she was ready for the next ship, grenade in paw and match primed to light it.
"If, for some reason, we don't make it," she said, dropping into Ferlusanian to speak her thoughts clearly, "I've lived, and were I to die, I would not regret the life, but the lives I have yet to share. Weep not for what I have missed, but for what we might have built together."
With her non-grenade paw, she reached over and rubbed behind his ear, then turned back to the fight.
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