| A Stab in the Dark |
| Summary: | The Sokar Red Sails and some allies from Dorling take a stab in the dark at the Parthian fleet around Fortune. |
| Date: | 05/07/18 |
| Related: | The Tide Goes Out, any Parthian invasion logs |
| NPCs: | None. |
| Players: |
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| Galenthia - Great Salt River |
| The Great Salt River runs east to west where it runs into the South Sea, joined by a broad mouth where the two waters join. Boats and ships of all sizes drift here and there, transporting goods or used during fishing, while many others can be found docked, awaiting the next high tide before they move on. |
| 05 Juillet, 1874 IE |
It is a clear summer's day on the Great Salt River, with a mild wind moving from west to east. The Red Sails have unmoored several vessels from Dalcen to support this little jaunt across the river that is really more of a channel than anything else.
The squadron that the Red Sails have formed is really a composite one of varying ship types. Three sloops for manoeuvrability and to act as eyes, a Demas-class frigate and an Aequorian built frigate, the latter of which is acting as a the flagship, and three larger White Hall longships from the township of Dorling. A decently put together fleet, and for their purposes, fine tuned to the job to be done. In and out, Captain Byrne said. Hopefully it shall be.
Dertan has taken up a position somewhere roughly central on Beowulf's longship where he has tied a number of bags about the centermost mast. These bags contain a number of supplies that he feels are essential for such a mission - maps of the type that he can risk falling into enemy hands, expensive spy equipment, what must be 100 arrows in bags and of course parchment, pen and gall-ink. The brigadier himself is equipped in his distinctive mix of brigadine, plate sections and chain armor with the multitude of straps to keep the various parts snug where he wants them snug as he studies the structure of the longship with undisguised interest. His open faced, green plumed, helmet is tucked into the curve of his arm. Around the Brigadeer, arrayed as requested by the captain of this vessel, are approximately 50 of Dertan's siegebreakers - Each of them armed with kaedon bow, melee weapon and chain armor.
Well, not a bad fleet they've managed to put together. Beowulf seems fairly proud of this, just as proud as everyone else, most likely. Nevertheless, Beowulf and his longships serve more as a vanguard in case this goes to hell. The Jarl looks lightly to everyone, making sure everyone was carefully armored with blade and shield, while many more were armed with arrows and bows. With a smile, Beowulf looks to Dertan. "Thanks for the assist, by the way. Dorling doesn't have a massive standing force for such an adventure quite yet." He presently wears a brigandine armor set with a cloak around his shoulders and a lightsilver curved blade sheathed by his side. Clearly he's ready for a fight above all. He has no need for a helmet apparently. "Let's take this slow and steady…I hope." he looks to the commanding vessel, as if awaiting word and preferred orders.
The Demas-class frigate was not a pace behind the flagship of the small fleet the Red Sails had unmoored from their anchors. And in the midst of the ordered chaos that controlled the deck, a familiar blonde-head, a Captain old enough and with experience enough with the sailors she had selected for the mission, that Rowena had hardly to offer a word or to lift a hand in direction for the men and women who manned the stations to do as they were bidden. They moved quickly, efficiently, lashing down supplies an ensuring that guns and armaments were in place. And all the while with their faces grim and set. This was not going to be a pleasure cruise. As for Rowena herself, she was dressed as simply as any of the sailors, leather and linen, more made for running up a rigging than facing off against an armored foe.
On the Aequorian-built ship, Jarret is watching the waves rather carefully. He's been rather quiet, aside from giving the needed orders when the time comes, the events of yesterday still gnawing on his mind. His glance goes to the other ships every now and then. He has his usual poleaxe by his side, in case fighting will happen, but of course, he's hoping there'll be none of that.
At the bow of Jarret's flagship stands a young noblewoman, dressed in a warm cloak, her traveling habit and arnor, just in case. Also, just in case, there is a quiver of arrows at her back and her bow, which she hasn't strung, but is at the ready if needs be. Chessa's pale blonde hair is pulled back tightly under her hood, not one stray blonde wisp escaping. She stands easily, moving with the ship and her eyes half closed as she breathes in the air. Her chin is tilted slightly up, and her hands are tucked into opposite sleeves as she rides the waves. There's a bit of personal space around her, perhaps strictly more than is necessary.
For her part, Susanna isn't entirely sure how she came into all this. As usual, her penchant for falling into "important" situations while she herself is not one of those "important" people has gotten the better of her. From below the deck she climbs uncertainly, looking out at the sea as she realizes the ship has actually taken off. She's at sea now. Not on land. For the first time in her life. And…to do what? To her horror, as she looks around, it seems that the sailors on board are expecting some sort of fight. Dressed in her commoner's clothing, she doesn't stand out and no one seems terribly interested in what she's doing here. Well…fine. Susanna breathes slowly in and out and starts to descend beneath the deck again. Maybe she can find something to protect herself with.
Given the stakes, Captain Byrne did let Jarret know that he'd have ships further to the north of where they were sailing, somewhere near to County March's port and capital on the coastline. If they were in dire need of help, the intent was for one of the sloops to push at full sail back to this squadron and send word that it needed help. That there was a big of a hole in the plan was evident - this would take time. Precious time. But, the Red Sails were overstretched trying to cover such a massive coastline whilst also ensuring that they had adequate reserves. This would have to be enough. Byrne had said, "Oh! If they come at you, Sir Jarret, I'd just run away fast as I can. Makes a smaller target with you facing away from them, and then they can only bring the front of their guns on you. Well, they don't use guns, but you know!" Then he'd clapped Jarret on the shoulders and let him off with a grin on his thin, grey bearded and scarred face.
That was then. This is now. They were getting closer, fourty miles now, but still two hours out from the port of Fortune itself even at best speed, which would have been the sloops and maybe the fastest longship, that which Beowulf, Dertan and Susanna are on.
Two out of the three sloops have pushed ahead by nearly a mile, still in visual range but requiring a Parthian looking glass to see them properly, or at least see the flags that they mount on their masts. Almost simulataneously, the midshipmen on watch of both the Demas and flagship frigate turn to their captains saying, "Sloops signalling trouble ahead. Two drifters alongside eachother, mile to the south of our pickets."
Dertan moves to stand near Beowulf now that the ships are in motion and he can see nothing but deep water and a hint of shoreline. "My men are all ready." he tells Beowulf. "And they are excellent archers, to a man, but we are not practiced at fighting a-ship and you will need to keep that in mind." Spotting something on board he frowns a little. Was that Susanna?
Rowena's eyes narrowed as she heard the report of trouble ahead. Her own ship outgunned the drifters of course, but in order to put them to use, she'd have to send the ship in offsides. They had the advantage in a head on attack, "Signal the rest of the fleet, 'Sails and the longboats." Assuming they were close enough to read the signals. Still, she moved towards the forward mast, "Stay ahead of the fleet, prepare to cover the smaller vessels." She gave each order, trusting it was passed down to the rest of the crew precisely as she gave it.
As he gets that news from the midshipman, there are a few choice words coming from Jarret, although he tries to keep that quiet for now. "Have they seen us yet?" Question coming almost automatically, before he adds, "And let our friends know about the ships being there." He looks around again, looking to Chessa for a brief moment, then around once again. "Be ready for what might come. We might need to act in a hurry."
At the mention of trouble, Chessa's head turns to Jarret, her eyes opening as she hears the words. She watches her cousin to see his response, her mouth pressed in a thin line that turns down at the corners.
Beowulf looks to Dertan with a bit of a smile. "Duly noted. I'll be keepin' that in mind. Hopefully they won't be needed, yea?" He says with his strongly accented Common. Nevertheless, he looks to that horizon, not noticing that they might have a Susanna on board. But alas… Information is passed to his ship perfectly, and he gives a small nod. "Alright." and he follows instructions, as do the longships at his disposal…ready for whatever may be coming as they sail ahead of the fleet.
Tapping a sailor on the shoulder, Susanna whispers in their ear, "'Scuse me, ma'am, bu' do they got any spare spears round here?" She's just below the deck, feet unsteady on her first sea voyage.
Jarret's sailors run through the rigging, setting flags to ask the question that he's asked on one side - and repeating the message sent from the screen of two sloops. The message is heard loud and clear on other ships. Within a few minutes, the reply comes back from one of the sloops. 'Enemy moving to engage; screen withdrawing to fleet; enemy signal not understood; please cover.'
The Masters of the ship advise their Captains that if they wish to cover, they will have to present their broadsides to the enemy.
The sailor whom Susanna whispered to turns to look at her, speaking with a STRONG accent. "Whattya say lass? Ya want a spear? Well…if this goes terribly wrong, I s'ppose ya should least be able to defend yerself." and she, in fact, gives Susanna a spear.
Rowena, receiving the signals from the midshipmen set to relay her messages only nods, before she steps up to set the ship to its task. The Demas frigate, larger and better defended than the smaller boats moves to provide the cover requested, the ship's crew running out the guns as well as preparing the ram to be deployed. A glance back, to the smaller vessels breaking off from screen, and moves to, hopefully, engage and give the lesser defended vessels time to escape the attack.
Jarret frowns as he hears that information, but nods a bit as he sees how the other frigate moves. He looks around for a brief moment, before he lets out a breath. "We move into position along the other frigate. Protect the other ships. The sooner we take these ones out, the sooner we can get things done, and get back home."
Dertan looks back to the signals and then back to Beowulf with a slight frown. "We can hope. What do you think is going on?" An eye is lifted to shade his eyes as he peers over at the drifters.
The third sloop, the one which has been heretofore taking up the rear of the formation, signals to Jarret's ship, 'Will turn south, slip around enemy and resume screen during engagement'. It's done on their own, but it makes good tactical sense and means that if anyone else approaches, they'll be able to know about it - providing that they watch the sloop.
As the former screen collapses on its squadron, the two Partharian Drifter's rapidly approach, clearly moving at a faster pace than their Galenthian counterparts. They were always known to be fast, but it almost seems that some magic of design has made them even more so. They continue moving towards the fleet even as it looks like they're going to come in range. This is reckless behaviour for such small ships, but they are only presenting their bow towards them and make small targets… still, the Galenthians might be able to take a shot and actually hit. It'd be a hard one at this range. The Lieutenant of Gunnery on Rowena's ship turns to her and says, "I think we can make it. Do we try, ma'am?" Similar conversations happen aboard Jarret's and Beowulf's ships. Will they try?
The Galenthian ships open up, with Jarret's flagship and Rowena's Demas presenting broadsides and firing off their cannons and carroballista, while the longships shoot their front facing carroballista. However, all go wide, splashing into the water harmlessly. As if taunting them, or perhaps more likely realising how perilous their situation is, the two Drifters rapidly turn about and look to move south, back the way that they came!
Another signal comes from the sloop that took the screen position. 'Enemy fleet approaches; six Drifters, two Coastal riders; Orders?'
Beowulf looks to Dertan as he sees the ships coming straight for them. "Looks like that's our answer." he calls out to the crew. "All hands! battle stations!" he calls out in Njord and Common. "Prepare for combat! Use the fore weapons to wear them down." he looks to Dertan. "So it begins."
Dertan is enough of a sailor that he recognises the gist of the signals and what it means for the longship to move as she is. Even as he is staring out across at the incoming ship he presses his lips together, looking somewhat thoughtful, as he contemplates the various options. Decided a few seconds later he turns to tell Beowulf "I will be with my men.", offers a polite nod and then heads over towards his men. His path is angled to take him near Susanna and he gestures for her to come with him. "I am not sure why you are on board." He says in a calm voice bereft of emotion. "But you may as well stay where I can see you."
As the ships begin to follow orders and move into battle positions, Chessa returns her gaze towards their enemies. She bites at her lip, and then she lowers her arms and her hands are at her sides with her palms out. She exhales slowly, but then her eyes snap open in surprise. Water splashes up over the side of their ship, and she ducks back from the spray. One of the loose ropes hanging down begins to whip around in the breeze, and the cloaks whip about the legs of those around her, and anything not tacked down on the deck is picked up to scud along the planks.
The waves around Jarret's ship have become noticeably choppier, not quite tossing the ship to and fro, but definitely making navigation more difficult.
Rowena shakes her head, turning back to pass along her commands, "No, we'll not chase them and draw ourselves out into the open. Make certain that you keep the ship in range of the rest of the fleet, but if they want us, they can come and get us." Going in advance of a fleet is one thing…stick your neck out onto the chopping block is another.
Jarret frowns a bit as he watches their shots unable to hit the targets. Looking about to say something, the part about the approaching fleets causes him to swear. "Signal the fleet to retreat to the north. One of the sloops go faster to find Byrne's squadron and get them to move towards us if we're chased." He lets out a bit of a sigh as he looks towards the enemy ships, frowning a bit. "If we can't find out what we were trying to find out, we need to be able to fight another day."
The Signal from the flagship is clear - turn about and withdraw to the north. The problem with this is that the two drifters originally pursuing their screen now turns about to pounce on the third sloop out in the distance, and there's little that it can do. 'Two more Coast Riders and one Sali now approaching; God Save The Queen'. The last thing that they can see is this valiant sloop being shot at, and then boarded by the Parthians, probably eager for some prize money.
The other six Drifters that the sloop had warned about are heading straight towards the Galenthians, and it's clear by their speed that they'll eventually catch up. However, it might be some time before that happens. One of the original sloops speeds off towards the north to warn Captain Byrne and the rest of the March Squadron.
The rest of the slower Parthians are approaching, too, though it will take them more time. It's possible that if the Galenthians simply engage the Drifters, they might be able to make away. That being said, the three Coast Riders and the massive five masted Rival are approaching. If they take too long… In any case, there is no outrunning the Drifters.
Beowulf sees that they are in a very bad spot. So…it's time to show these Parthian bastards that the Njor have some scary fucking teeth. "Come about! let's show them the terror of the Njor!" he calls out in his native tongue, earning a battle cry from his crew. He looks to Dertan. "Dertan! Get on that gun. Something tells me you're at least a fairly good shot!" he says in common, drawing his sword just in case. "Aim for the smaller and faster ships!"
Rowena might be given to tempting fate, but she was not, at the end of all things, a stupid woman. And she had certainly not survived this long without knowing when to cut her losses. A single attempt to do one more round of damage…surely, that might be enough to keep the drifters at bay long enough for the fleet to make its retreat. Well, whatever the cost, the frigate prepared a final broadside attack, before they would attempt to make their own retreat.
Dertan gives Beowulf a sharp look as the man throws orders his way. For a moment he just looks that way, eyes narrowing, and then the recollection of the fact they are onboard ship wins and he gives a sharp nod and moves to take over one of the carroballista. "Fire as you will gentlemen." He tells his siegebreakers before turning his attention to the mechanisms. He straightens, taking a long few moments to try and get his sightings right by using hand and eyeball before starting to carefully adjust the carroballista's positions.
A pause and Dertan once again checks. Another little adjustment. And then the bolt is away and he's trying to get the crew to put another bolt into place. It's taken him perhaps three times as long to fire his carroballista as it has the teams besides him and initially the bolt looks as if it is off course.. then it reaches the peak of its arc and it immediately becomes obvious that he simply wasnt aiming for the same thing as anyone else. The bolt tilts down to strike somewhere on the deck of the drifter, and when it strikes the resulting explosion is very impressive: Impressive enough that the extra shooting time was more than worth it. Slowly the smoke clears away from the wounded portion of the ship revealing that two carroballista have been disabled. Dertan peers across at this, looking reasonably satisfied, and then starts trying to work out a line of attack for his next shot.
As Chessa hears Jarret speak of giving up on finding the information, she looks over towards him. She understands, though, the choice to not risk more lives than necessary. She folds her hands and moves off to the side so that she's out of the way of the sailors, and bows her head. She closes her eyes, and then… she falls. So does the water that was chopping up around their ship, and the water is completely calm just around them. After a moment or two, she stirs, and then pulls herself up against the rail, holding onto it as she hangs her head over the side, gulping for air and looking a little green.
A victory at sea is, rarely, a victory without cost. And as the Demas frigate fires that final volley, the sailors, men and women trained to the ship and the mast, make the most of that final attack. Two drifters fall to their fire. The first, cut down, crippled, its masts shattered, the ship listing, detritus from the explosions of carroballista rising like a cloud around the now badly listing ship. A second drifter also takes heavy damage, but a third, moving closer more quickly than anticipated fires an attack of it's own at the ship, rocking the frigate, and sending crew flying from their positions at the aft of the ship. Immediately, the frigate moves to retreat, Rowena moving as nimbly as the rest of the crew to tend to the injured and repair what damage they can.
Jarret growls as his ship is rocked by a blast from the Drifters' guns, turning to look around. "If we survive this, I'm not going anywhere ever again…" he mutters to himself, before he looks around, pausing as he sees Chessa. He moves over towards her now. After all, he can shout and swear from there as well. "You okay?" he asks her, quietly.
Beowulf growls very softly as the starboard bow of his ship is just -barely- touched! "Good maneuverin' lads! but we can't risk taking a hit! Keep firin' and showing those bastards what we got!" he smiles softly then, as if in excitement.
"Believe me, Excellency, neither am I," Susanna says as she moves with him, eyes glancing about in every direction. Then the bolt fires and Susanna actually trips forward, utterly disoriented as she makes her spear hold herself steady. One look at her would affirm her eyes are glassy and unseeing, somewhere else entirely.
The listing Drifter begins to take on water at a very fast pace, and one of its comrades who has not been raked by fire from Rowena's ship moves alongside to help rescue their mates. Most of the Galenthian squadron makes it away - the remaining sloop and two frigates, but as Beowulf stays to cover their retreat, the three Coastal Raiders are coming into range. They open fire with their front guns on the White Hallers' longships immediately, and look to be moving to ram. Meanwhile, the four drifts that are not busy sinking or loading friends in open up on Beowulf's ships, too.
Meanwhile, the massive Parthian Rival looms just further away from the three longships - it moves surprisingly swiftly for such a large ship, and will be in range very shortly. That means trouble.
Clinging to the rail, Chessa hears her cousin approaching and waves a hand to him. "I'm fine, fine, take care of… " she waves a hand. Her color is going back to a more usual color, but her knees are still weak, and she finds a coil of the rope used to moor the ship to the dock when it's at rest, and curls up inside it. "I'll be fine," she tells Jarret one more time, with not much conviction, then adds, in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." She pulls her hood up around her face and holds her head as she uses the coil of rope for a nest to rest in out of the way that will keep her from falling off the ship.
Dertan looks annoyed when he discovers Susanna just standing there. "Move her." He tells one of his men brusquely. "And someone give me a bolt." Again the process and sighting takes longer than it really should but this time it seems his shot was overly ambitious - or maybe the last one was just lucky - and it glances off the side of the enemy drifter.
Whatever the cost, when Rowena aligned herself to her brother's command, she agreed to follow his orders. And so she does, knowing that she was leaving the long ships behind, knowing that she might well come to regret the decision, and be responsible for the loss. But such thoughts were for a time that was not now. That was not pulling sailors from the wreckage of the hit they took, and ensuring that they ship did not begin to take on water. That was the main worry, that they might have damaged some part of the ship they could not see. And so, the Demas frigate sailed, and her crew took care of their own. What recriminations might come, they would face in the fullness of time.
Pausing again as he watches Chessa, looking a bit worried, Jarret lets out a bit of a breath, before he reaches out to pat her on the shoulder."So am I," he offers, just as quiet to the part about being sorry. He then looks around carefully, back towards the longship. "Get out of there," he growls, as he steps back to where he was before. "Tell them to get away. And keep an eye out for other ships, of any kind…" He lets out a bit of a growl. "If they get themselves killed, I want them revived so I can kill them again…" he mutters, mostly to himself.
The ships cease following the retreating Galenthians, instead focusing on Beowulf's longships. Despite the fact that they are smaller than the White Hall ships, they are incredible manoeuvrable. All three Coastal Riders and four Drifters that are combat and seaworthy turn ninety degrees and begin to sail perpendicular to the longships, opening up a barrage on them. They have used their speed to move across and get more of their carroballistae layed onto the enemies than the enemy can get on them. This is Crossing the T.
The Rival is nearly in range, now. Once this monster ship comes into the fight, it might become very difficult for the three longships.
Beowulf's ships take a little damage! With the Jarl taking cover from the firepower of the ships. "Damn.." Beowulf says before he makes the decision without even needing any kind of signals. "All hands! sound the retreat! Archers! to the back of the ship and open fire on our pursuers! Give them another reason to not give chase!" he calls out, sounding the retreat.
Rowena let out a breath. She did not sit, but surely she could be forgiven for leaning rather heavily against the rail of the frigate. The injured were being tended to, and a check of the below decks had assured the Captain that the ship had taken no more than superficial damage. They were too far now to assist the longships, but that did not mean that her attention did not shift to them, the woman moving back to the aft of the ship, to see, if she could the fate of the three that had stayed behind.
Dertan abandons the carroballista when Beowulf turns his rear to the enemy ships and tries to run. Seeing that the archers have shifted position he too moves alongside them, finding a place amongst the others and adding his own arrows to the deterent of arrows. Sadly they dont seem to be making much of an impact.
There is a reason why people respect White Hallers in their longships - they know how to bloody sail. Beowulf's ships are able to turn, fire one last broadside as they do so and then, with clever rigging and some serious oar power, push away from the Parthians. The broadsides utterly lay waste to one of the Coastal Riders and seriously damage a second one. The archers in the rear of the longships pelt the drifters especially with arrows, hitting many on board. The massive Rival fires its fore carroballistae, but they come up short and only hit the water.
The Parthians break off pursuit entirely as the Galenthians retreat, especially as a solid squadron of Red Sails finally appear from the north (finally!), bearing the flag of Captain Byrne's 'March Squadron' and his personal pennant. Soon, though, the Southerners, having salvaged what they can, turn south. They've left the sinking wrecks of a Drifter and Coastal Raider, but probably rescued a good chunk of the crew. What is more clear is that they are strongly patrolling the coast of Partharia. If there is such a strong picket fourty miles from Fortune, what lays closer…?
Jarret lets out a breath as the last ships seem to get away, and he slumps a little where he stands. "About bloody time…" he mutters to himself as he sees Captain Byrne's ships appear, looking around to find himself a place to sit. Leaving the job just for the sailors now, he goes quiet, thinking…
Beowulf proceeds to sigh lightly. "Least we showed 'em how sharp our teeth were…" Beowulf proceeds to lean agains the railing with his arms crossed. "Bloody bastards." he insults the Parthians under his breath. "See to the wounded!" he calls out in Njor to his crew as people scramble about, yet he did his countrymen proud.
White Hallers know how to bloody sail. It's one of hte reasons they are a scourge of the seas.
Dertan watches the ships recede away for a few long moments before he asks for his spyglass. The glass is given and he spends several long minutes scanning the horizon, a mild scowl marking his brow. Eventually he decides he is not going to see anything more and heads for Beowulf's side. "That was an interesting tactical choice. You must have a great deal of confidence in your men."