Prologue - Arlen, Jeska, & the Flying Popo

[Arlen Shipwright]

3 Months Prior to the Start



“What’s the distance?” Arlen asked for the 3rd time as the Flying Popo rapidly closed on the anchored vessel.



“1,000 meters Captain.” one of the few members of his crew standing up parroted back to him. The rest of the crew was up against the railing kneeling down so they couldn’t be seen, weapons ready for when the whistle blew.



“We’ll be within cannon range soon. Tell the rigging crew to be ready to raise the colors” Arlen said without ever taking his eyes off the merchant ship. This was always the trickiest part and he needed to think.



Anytime the Flying Popo was on the sea it flew the flag of the a Kingsfolk Empire merchant. You couldn’t go around flying a pirate flag openly, you’d make yourself an obvious target for anyone looking to make a name, no respectable port would let a pirate dock and sell their prize, and the Empire’s navy would hunt you down just for the arrogance of it. So every new Captain spent a good portion of their startup money not just buying a ship, but buying legitimate colors and registering as a “cargo ship”.



The risky part came when it was time to take a prize. You raise the black flag too early and your prize has time to run, even if you catch her she’ll be ready for a fight. You raise the black too late and an inexperienced merchant captain might panic, and not have time to strike their colors, or worse order something stupid, next thing you know there’s a fight going on and his crew could get killed needlessly...



“500 meters Captain.” The man next to him said. Arlen raised the telescope lense to his eye, in the distance he could see the merchant captain doing the same on his ship. “Raise the colors, and get up to charging speeds.” he said and the man next to him raised both hands above his head. Immediately the merchant flag that hid the Flying Popo so well fell to the deck to be replaced by a black canvas with no decorations save a set of white eyes and black pupils. Some Captains liked to decorate their colors. Make them fancy, add designs and flourishes, they’d spend more on making a flag pretty than repairs on their fucking ships. Arlen gritted his teeth as his own colors flew in the wind and with a tight grin he saw the reaction.



He wasn’t famous per se but if you sailed the Garnet Coast you had heard of the Flying Popo, her crew, and her Captain.



Panic set in as the merchant vessel scrambled, but it needed one more touch.



“Weapons loaded and stand!” Arlen shouted and got a few shocked looks from his crew. Standing before boarding only made you a visible target if the prize decided to fight, but no one questioned the Captain when he gave an order.



The crew rose and stood on the railings shouting curses at her prize as the distance closed.



“200 meters Captain.”



“Get the long 9s ready to fire…”



In his scope he saw the merchant captain’s reaction when his crew stood and he finally knew the full of what he was up against. Racing to the main rigging the captain shouted something and a second later his own colors fell to the deck of his ship. Surrender.



A shout of glee went up from his own crew along with a few more curses for good measure. No one had to die today.



Being a professional pirate wasn’t about fighting on the sea. Only a dumbass fights if he doesn’t have to, death benefits and repairing damages take whatever profit you’d make, not to mention replacing experienced but now dead crew members with new blood was always more effort than it was worth. Luckily an experienced Captain didn’t need to fight often.



The Popo pulled alongside the now silent merchant vessel. Something didn’t feel right about it, the ship had never even raised anchor, but still Arlen wasn’t one to turn down a gift.



“Where’s Jeska?” he said looking around his own decks, she was leading the boarding crew originally but once the ship had surrendered there was no need for her to charge the decks and a less experienced crew could relieve them of their cargo without her help.



The boarding planks touched home and his crew began climbing over. The merchant vessel was completely silent still. Why was this making him so uncomfortable?



Up from the merchant crows nest there was a wordless shout and a green flair shot high into the air. It was a cloudless day, the flair would be visible for leagues….

[Jeska Reignhart]

Below her crouched the better part of her beloved crew, some long time mates and others with less than a year under the Captains command. Ahead lay their target. Yet another merchant ship full of goods to fill the decks below.

Normally a sight, the tall redhead that was the ships first mate held fast to the mast that hid her from view. With each rock of the waves her arm was forced to flex so that she would remain behind the wooden pole, boarding rope clutched tightly in the other hand. Her orders were simple. If a skirmish began, take the fight to the opposing vessels deck.

At nearly six feet, Jeska held no reserves about engaging in close combat and despite the fact she was born far from the sea, her strong legs were more at home on the ocean than land. Aggressive, confident and ruthlessly loyal, she was the lead on the boarding party with good reason.

Silently she knew that Arlen wanted no blood spilt if it could be helped and she respected that, respected him, but she was always ready to draw her blade. Regardless of where she roamed the woman was at home when her life was on the line and she knew no better man to put it on the line for, than her captain.

From her elevated post she listened as the meters grew short, their prize yet to launch any kind of defensive shot or warning. She knew it was in part to the false colors they flew. Even so the merchant ship seemed destined to succumb to its fate without a fight. As shame, but at least no one had to die today.

”Where’s Jeska?”

The arm wrapped partially around the mast released and the woman began to drop. To slow her momentum, she gripped the boarding rope with one hand and a free rope with her left. An instant later boots thudded to the deck a few feet from the man who had spoke her name.

“I’m here Arlen. An easy haul today, eh?” Salty wind blew over the deck as she stepped towards him, the free locks of her hair whipping about her face. There was nothing more refreshing.

“Perhaps our reputation is enough these days. It is about time.” Her grin lasted only a moment as the flare shot into the air. 

For a second her eyes lingered on the floating sphere of green before they cast a quick glance Arlen’s way. She was all for orders, but their men and women had already begun to board the other ship. Without a word and with her blade still in its sheath, she turned. Long strides quickly had her in a run as she raced towards the edge of the boat. A well placed step had her foot up on the railing and a powerful shove put her in the air, soaring towards the merchant vessel.

They had been played, but Jeska would be damned if she let her men pay the price for it.

[Arlen Shipwright]

The flair hung in the air and for a brief moment there was silence across both ships. But as the light faded out so reality came back and chaos erupted. Arlen turned to his right and was relieved to see Jes standing there. He met her eyes for a second. He desperately wanted to say easy haul my ass or some other quip but there wasn't time. Every second wasted could mean their deaths, already he could hear people screaming and the sound of metal on metal on the merchant ship.

"Jes, we need to get separated as soon as possible, and we need that ship disabled. If they can hold us long enough for whoever they called to get here we're dead in the water, and if they can take part in the chase as well..." He didn't need to repeat himself. "Take a small party, across to the merchant. Take what crew you can save and get back. If you have time disable their rudder so they can't steer after us but don't take stupid chances where we don't have time. Anything in your way can not stay in your way for long. Understood?" he looked towards the horizon for a second no scope but trying to see if that was a cloud or a sail off in the distance. He shook his head.

"I'm saving the cannons and all our ammo for whoever the hell they called. but I'm raining fire arrows down on their sails and their rigging so be careful. Now go!" he said turning his attention towards his own duties. Out of everyone on the crew he trusted Jes' judgement the most next to his own, she'd do what had to be done and leave him to focus on his own job.

He scanned the horizon again, it was just a cloud.

He turned towards his ship. While he knew the merchant had no way to sink the Flying Popo it could still hold her while the boarding planks and ropes connected them and still could run.

"Wet the sails and masts! Archers get fire arrows ready! Aim for their sails, don't waste a shot on the crew!" the deck erupted into movement and Arlen went for his scope. He needed to get the crew moving before he could look and he absolutely couldn't show signs of panic to his men. But once they were occupied his eyes scanned the horizon his scope sliding from left to right staring at the cloud steadily making it's way towards them.

The cloud was not a cloud...obviously. At that distance Arlen couldn't make out the flag but he didn't have to, the number of sails on the ship meant it was a war galleon. A single galleon had him out gunned 4 to 1, out manned 10 to 1 and had twice as much canvas so they could match his top speed even with all the extra weight.

The Popo had to pretend to be a merchant vessel, the galleon knew exactly what it was, a vessel of war. Worse yet to his port side there where two more sails in the distance, these ones not nearly as big, a pair of navy cruisers, not another galleon thank the gods. Still the color drained from the Captain's face knowing what was coming but he turned to his crew back straight. "Archers ready on my mark! FIRE!"

He knew he had given Jes enough time to at least get over to the merchant ship, now she was on her own. As the first volley of fire arrows leapt towards the ship Arlen's eyes were already back on the horizon, on the cloud making time towards them. Jes you need to hurry.

[Jeska Reignhart]

The leap took her from one deck to the other. With a solid thud she hit the boards of the merchant vessel as one hand pressed to the wood to brace her landing. Under Arlen she had boarded countless ships; she was after all his first mate. Usually she led the charge, a red headed fury amongst their foes that cleared the initial path for her crew to board. Tricked this day, she arrived late and found her allies already engaged. The sounds of steel on steel rang out across the open ocean as all involved drew blades. One crew member of the targeted vessel bared down on her before she had even rose from her landing crouch.

With her katana still in its sheath there was no way she could bring it up to defend in time. No novice to combat, whether based around sword play or something more akin to a brawl, Jeska’s powerful legs heaved against the planks of the ship to launch her body forward. Tone instead of overly muscular, the barbarian woman wasn’t exactly small and her near six foot frame sported plenty of power. As she lunged forward, she also rose, shoulder lowered to catch the charging man square in the chest. So unprepared was the sailor, that he was taken clean off his feet.

Before the man hit the deck and while his weapon flipped through the air, Jeska drew her own blade. Sharp and durable, the katana had seen her through countless battles. Her hand felt at home on its leather wrapped hilt, the worn grip fit perfectly to her fingers.

A quick glance surveyed the scene. All around her pirates and sailors alike engaged in close quarters. She saw few ranged weapons at the ready, a sign that perhaps they meant to take them in alive. Jeska preferred death over chains. Never again would she endure such bondage and neither would her men.

“Back to the ship men! There is nothing here for us today except shackles!” Although still feminine, her voice had enough power behind it to carry across the battle choked deck. Not a single question rose against the order, the crew foolhardy for sure, but they knew when to listen. As she barked the order, several strides brought her closer to the boarding planks that connected the two boats.

Two sailors from the merchant ship must have noticed the reaction her words warranted. Not previously engaged, they stalked towards her weapons drawn. Jeska stood at her full height as her eyes looked back and forth between the two. One held two scimitars and the other a nasty looking hooked javelin. Placed firmly between the men and her crews main means of escape, she stood strong as the men approached. Arlen had wished for this to end without bloodshed, but if one side had to bleed, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be hers. With a roll of her neck she prepared to engage, brazen enough to beckon the two fighters forward with her empty hand.

[Arlen Shipwright]

Arlen quickly smothered a grin, Jes had done what she did best. Taking the fight to the other crew. Already he could see the rest of his crew making their way back onto his own decks and slowly he let out the breathe he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

The crew wasn’t complete, and some had fallen in the beginning of the ambush; but his crew was still whole. It was enough to run for it and get them the fuck back to shore. His eyes sought out his first mate. She had saved who she could, now where was she.

Outnumbered and fighting. Of course she was out numbered and in a fight. For a fraction of a second the Captain’s eyes flicked upward towards the sails approaching from almost every angle on the horizon...not on the horizon anymore, moving closer. His eyes flicked back and his hand dipped into his jacket pulling out a single handed crossbow. The effective range on these was next to nothing but the Captain steadied himself on the deck and set his feet.

A gust of wind blew behind Arlen and he let out his breath and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion and a man who had been trying to sink a knife into his first’s back fell with a bolt in his throat. Arlen smiled, even with his control of the winds that was a lucky fuckin shot. The deck was far from steady and with the waves hitting both ships...the waves. Arlen grinned.

Swinging his arms back and forth the waves began to rise around the merchant ship, sloshing over the side of the deck as they took the boat broadside. Beads of sweat were growing on Arlen’s forehead but he clenched his fist with a tight grin.

A wave rose up over the port side railing and rolled by the ankles of two of the men surrounding Jes. Once Arlen’s riptide had hold of them though…

He felt their ankles snap under the water pressure and with a quick tug he pulled both men screaming into the blue off the side of the boat.

He looked up, the odds seemed slightly more manageable for his friend. He looked to his left to see his own crew now standing still goggling at him until a cannon landed in the distance. Only a few hundred meters from the side of his ship.

“The fuck are you staring at! Get us seperated and get us ready to sail! The second we’re free we run like the devil himself is chasing us and we owe him fucking money GO!”

He turned back towards Jes. “ITS NOW OR NEVER, KICK HIS ASS AND GET YOUR OWN ASS IN GEAR!” he shouted. He had evened the odds somewhat now it was up to his first mate to finish the job.

[Jeska Reignhart]

More men closed on her, but she kept her focus on the two she had challenged to come forward. Thanks to his range advantage, the javelin wielding sailor came forward first, a jab of his long weapon directed towards her bare stomach. Whether it was his confidence or underestimation of his opponent, the aggressive and predictable move cost him.

A single side step had the weapons point stabbing nothing but air, Jeska far quicker than her tall stature suggested. She further utilized that speed as her free hand snapped down to grip the shaft of the javelin, the wooden pole caught in her unrelenting grip. With one swift swipe, her katana snapped the long weapon in two, rendering what was left in the sailor’s hands useless unless he wished to start a fire.

No sooner had she disarmed the man did a strangled gurgle reach her ears followed by a thud. A quick glance revealed the man that squirmed on the deck, hands clutching at a small bolt sticking from his throat. As the man's life blood flowed onto the deck, the redhead couldn't help but grin. She knew exactly what crossbow had launched that projectile. Quick to focus back on the two men before her, she was prepared when the dual wielding male rushed her.

Two blades gave him a step up for sure, yet his skill with the weapons would determine how much of an advantage. Commendable speed had Jeska on the defensive as she worked hard to parry the flurry of strikes with her single blade. The clange of steel against steel became a constant sound as his scimitars bounced of her katana in quick succession. Forced to take a step back, Jeska saw the small smirk on the man's face grow and used it to her advantage. A voluntary step back fed her opponents confidence and as expected he came at her all the more aggressively. His two handed fighting style served him well against an opponent with only one weapon, but sadly for him Jeska did have a second, albeit an unconventional one.

Two quick blocks set his weapons apart and a shift of her feet brought her arm forward. A second before her wrist had twisted to spin the head of the broken javelin in her grip and a firm upward thrust brought the point up under the man's chin. His smirk turned to momentary shock as the steel drove up through his jaw and into his skull, the expression lost as his body dropped towards the deck. About to turn her attention to the others around her, she found she had no need. With a scream that started as agony then turned to horror, the two men around her were yanked overboard.

“ITS NOW OR NEVER, KICK HIS ASS AND GET YOUR OWN ASS IN GEAR!”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as Arlen’s voice mixed with the splash of ever closer canon balls. Quite high on the adrenalin of combat, Jeska assumed he meant the man she had just dispatched. Content with the engagement and prepared to leave the “merchant” vessel, she turn to head towards the closest boarding plank. If she only realized her friend had been talking about the burly man with a thick beard who had just stepped from the captain’s cabin. She paid for her misunderstanding as the business end of a bull whip wrapped around her ankle and sent her on the shortest path possible to meet the deck, face first.