[Everyone has heard rumors of the Ghost Ship. The whispers persist, insidious and pervasive, throughout the court of the Pirate King Dracula, in spite of his efforts to silence them.]
Pay it no mind. [He orders Hector, the newest and youngest of his vassal captains. Hector looks up from where he kneels before Dracula's throne, determination lighting up his silver eyes.]
My king, I will see it delivered to you, if it can be taken, or sunk if it cannot. It shall plague you no longer.
Hector.... [Dracula shakes his head and sighs, sounding much wearier than such a great and fierce lord should.
The Ghost Ship has become almost a Holy Grail within the pirate court. The list of crimes attributed to it vary wildly from tale to tale- vassal ships plundered or routed, treasure gone missing from holds, ships sailing into a fog and coming out impossibly far off course. Some of it is the typical tall tales of old sailors, but still, the rumors sow seeds of doubt in Lord Dracula's absolute mastery of these waters. Each captain covets the chance for victory over such a foe.]
I hear it's full of the fiercest warriors ever to sail. I'll find them and use their skins for sails! [Godbrand slurs over his grog. Hector hates him fiercely, and touches nothing whenever he's forced to board Godbrand's ship. Damn Viking and his disgusting habit of making people into boats.]
It holds weapons. Powerful ones. [Carmilla purrs. There's lust in her catlike eyes, but it's a lust for power, not for sex like she'd have everyone believe. If given the opportunity to seize an advantage, Carmilla will take it. If not given the opportunity, Carmilla will insert a stealthy knife into a back to make the opportunity.]
Our lord said to leave it be, Hector. [Says Isaac, ever infuriatingly loyal, and secure in his standing with Dracula. He is the pirate king's right hand, his most trusted officer, and Hector HATES him. For all Hector's talent, he cannot hope to win the standing Isaac has...not unless he can present his lord with a prize greater than any other.]
I will not fail in this. [Hector swears to himself as he sails out from the Pirate Court's base in defiance to his Lord's orders. His crew, all reanimated, do not question him or caution him against such acts of well-intentioned mutiny. His little dog, also undead, similarly accepts his direction without fuss, though with more demands for attention whenever Hector has a hand free from the wheel.
He sails for most of the day, but does not drop anchor when the sun sets and moon rises, bright and full, over the dark water. This is the time, he knows from the stories. Though the tales agree on little else, moonlight is key to unlocking the way.
He uses a compass he built himself, a mixture of modern science and old-world superstition. It would never be accepted in any of the colleges in the cities on land, but Hector is proud of what his tinkering has accomplished. Rather than pointing him due north, the needle spins, then stops, directing him eastward. As he pilots his ship in that direction, a mist forms on the waters around him. Another one of the rare agreed-upon signs. He must be on the right track.
The fog grows too thick to see through, and the light from his lantern illuminates only a sphere of the deck of his ship. Hector relies solely on the compass to set his course. It's slow going, inching through the waters, course correcting as the compass needle spins, then slowly pressing onward. He's almost ready to give up for the night, go curl up in the captain's quarters where Cesar is already snoring, when a dark shape appears in the fog. Finally.
He gives his crew the silent order to cast anchor and lower the jolly boat into the water so Hector and a selection of his crew can row to their prize.]
For Cryptsleeper - Ghostly Siege on the High Seas
[Everyone has heard rumors of the Ghost Ship. The whispers persist, insidious and pervasive, throughout the court of the Pirate King Dracula, in spite of his efforts to silence them.]
Pay it no mind. [He orders Hector, the newest and youngest of his vassal captains. Hector looks up from where he kneels before Dracula's throne, determination lighting up his silver eyes.]
My king, I will see it delivered to you, if it can be taken, or sunk if it cannot. It shall plague you no longer.
Hector.... [Dracula shakes his head and sighs, sounding much wearier than such a great and fierce lord should.
The Ghost Ship has become almost a Holy Grail within the pirate court. The list of crimes attributed to it vary wildly from tale to tale- vassal ships plundered or routed, treasure gone missing from holds, ships sailing into a fog and coming out impossibly far off course. Some of it is the typical tall tales of old sailors, but still, the rumors sow seeds of doubt in Lord Dracula's absolute mastery of these waters. Each captain covets the chance for victory over such a foe.]
I hear it's full of the fiercest warriors ever to sail. I'll find them and use their skins for sails! [Godbrand slurs over his grog. Hector hates him fiercely, and touches nothing whenever he's forced to board Godbrand's ship. Damn Viking and his disgusting habit of making people into boats.]
It holds weapons. Powerful ones. [Carmilla purrs. There's lust in her catlike eyes, but it's a lust for power, not for sex like she'd have everyone believe. If given the opportunity to seize an advantage, Carmilla will take it. If not given the opportunity, Carmilla will insert a stealthy knife into a back to make the opportunity.]
Our lord said to leave it be, Hector. [Says Isaac, ever infuriatingly loyal, and secure in his standing with Dracula. He is the pirate king's right hand, his most trusted officer, and Hector HATES him. For all Hector's talent, he cannot hope to win the standing Isaac has...not unless he can present his lord with a prize greater than any other.]
I will not fail in this. [Hector swears to himself as he sails out from the Pirate Court's base in defiance to his Lord's orders. His crew, all reanimated, do not question him or caution him against such acts of well-intentioned mutiny. His little dog, also undead, similarly accepts his direction without fuss, though with more demands for attention whenever Hector has a hand free from the wheel.
He sails for most of the day, but does not drop anchor when the sun sets and moon rises, bright and full, over the dark water. This is the time, he knows from the stories. Though the tales agree on little else, moonlight is key to unlocking the way.
He uses a compass he built himself, a mixture of modern science and old-world superstition. It would never be accepted in any of the colleges in the cities on land, but Hector is proud of what his tinkering has accomplished. Rather than pointing him due north, the needle spins, then stops, directing him eastward. As he pilots his ship in that direction, a mist forms on the waters around him. Another one of the rare agreed-upon signs. He must be on the right track.
The fog grows too thick to see through, and the light from his lantern illuminates only a sphere of the deck of his ship. Hector relies solely on the compass to set his course. It's slow going, inching through the waters, course correcting as the compass needle spins, then slowly pressing onward. He's almost ready to give up for the night, go curl up in the captain's quarters where Cesar is already snoring, when a dark shape appears in the fog. Finally.
He gives his crew the silent order to cast anchor and lower the jolly boat into the water so Hector and a selection of his crew can row to their prize.]