Captain Clinton kept an eye on the ridge and trees. He could have sworn that the last time he was here, it was safe enough, if not... particularly hospitable, or inhabited. Now there were monsters and worse about, and the sooner they got the Archer off the sand bar, the sooner they could leave this godsforsaken place.
Too many monsters, not enough ammo or supplies. Worse, he wasn't sure how he was going to turn a profit off this trip; joining a Flotsam flotilla while the entire fleet was running around was a way to ensure steady work, but it wasn't exactly conducive to a fat payday. He almost missed boarding airships, now.
He scanned the ruins of the hastily put together fishing village that had been made from the remains of the landing port that had also been here, before everything fell.
Thankfully, after the first night, 'no one goes in the village' had been a rule everyone had followed. But he didn't blame them for being nervous. They couldn't get good intel on the Imperials, and it'd do no good to leave the bay, even if Eowyn cleared the screws--
Movement in the village. Damn it all.
"Looks like they're making another go, lads," he said, with rather more cheer than he felt as he drew steel. He begrudgingly admitted that pirates did not, typically, gel with chaplains of the Divine Church-- a fact which, right now, felt very stupid indeed...
Up in the crows, one of the new kids-- Bosch, wasn't it?-- called out, "SAILS! TWO SHIPS. THEY'RE RUNNING UP COLORS."
Well, that was a good sign, just yet--
"SNIPER!"
The devil!? Surely the Imps weren't that stupid to send skiffs with soldiers on while they had a magicannon ready to blow them out of the water?
Shit, eyes on the corpses-- wait, sniper!? It couldn't be--
The corpse he hadn't been paying attention to took a bullet to center mass and overbalanced briefly as its torso stopped being able to support its weight with muscle alone. He cut it down and shouted to Bosch-- "IDIOT, THAT'S OUR SNIPER!"
~ ~ ~
It took everyone a little under an hours' sailing with good wind to get around the island and into the lea, and the bay there. The island's not continent-sized, but it'd take a good day of walking to get from one side to the other. Good thing you've got ships, right?
Natalia let go of her braced position near the top of the Humboldt's mast and cycled the bolt of her rifle. "Looks like we'll be in the thick as soon as we land," she calls out, as if the reports of gun and cannon didn't do that for her. "Monsters, seems like. Undead."
If asked how she knows this, she'll add, "Because I just shot one and it's not dead."
You're a few seconds away from being able to get out of the ships and stand, if not fully be on dry land. What do you do?
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Date: 2025-03-10 07:59 am (UTC)Meanwhile...
Captain Clinton kept an eye on the ridge and trees. He could have sworn that the last time he was here, it was safe enough, if not... particularly hospitable, or inhabited. Now there were monsters and worse about, and the sooner they got the Archer off the sand bar, the sooner they could leave this godsforsaken place.
Too many monsters, not enough ammo or supplies. Worse, he wasn't sure how he was going to turn a profit off this trip; joining a Flotsam flotilla while the entire fleet was running around was a way to ensure steady work, but it wasn't exactly conducive to a fat payday. He almost missed boarding airships, now.
He scanned the ruins of the hastily put together fishing village that had been made from the remains of the landing port that had also been here, before everything fell.
Thankfully, after the first night, 'no one goes in the village' had been a rule everyone had followed. But he didn't blame them for being nervous. They couldn't get good intel on the Imperials, and it'd do no good to leave the bay, even if Eowyn cleared the screws--
Movement in the village. Damn it all.
"Looks like they're making another go, lads," he said, with rather more cheer than he felt as he drew steel. He begrudgingly admitted that pirates did not, typically, gel with chaplains of the Divine Church-- a fact which, right now, felt very stupid indeed...
Up in the crows, one of the new kids-- Bosch, wasn't it?-- called out, "SAILS! TWO SHIPS. THEY'RE RUNNING UP COLORS."
Well, that was a good sign, just yet--
"SNIPER!"
The devil!? Surely the Imps weren't that stupid to send skiffs with soldiers on while they had a magicannon ready to blow them out of the water?
Shit, eyes on the corpses-- wait, sniper!? It couldn't be--
The corpse he hadn't been paying attention to took a bullet to center mass and overbalanced briefly as its torso stopped being able to support its weight with muscle alone. He cut it down and shouted to Bosch-- "IDIOT, THAT'S OUR SNIPER!"
~ ~ ~
It took everyone a little under an hours' sailing with good wind to get around the island and into the lea, and the bay there. The island's not continent-sized, but it'd take a good day of walking to get from one side to the other. Good thing you've got ships, right?
Natalia let go of her braced position near the top of the Humboldt's mast and cycled the bolt of her rifle. "Looks like we'll be in the thick as soon as we land," she calls out, as if the reports of gun and cannon didn't do that for her. "Monsters, seems like. Undead."
If asked how she knows this, she'll add, "Because I just shot one and it's not dead."
You're a few seconds away from being able to get out of the ships and stand, if not fully be on dry land. What do you do?