[OOC] Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

[AmongHeroes]

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The galleon Madre Santisima rode lightly at her moorings, the early morning sun of Veracruz already making her decks sticky with loosened pitch. Despite the swelter, the ship was covered with seamen and dock-laborers, all working to make the galleon secure for her journey to Havana, and then Cádiz beyond. In addition to the tons of food, livestock, lumber, rope, and sail required for such a voyage, the Madre Santisima was also being laden with its most precious cargo; the sealed sea-chests of treasure bound for the coffers of King Charles II.

This cargo was loaded under the watchful eye of Captain Gonzalo Martin, as well as the local garrison commander, Luis Gutierrez. Both men personally oversaw the transfer of each chest from the carriages on land, and into the purpose-built lockers below decks. Working without respite, the loading of the chests was completed just hours before dusk, and Captain Martin chained, locked, and sealed the lockers with a silent efficiency that belied his fatigue . The locks that secured each length of chain were dipped in yellow wax, and the royal seal of Charles II was stamped above the key hole. Only the regional governors and the Viceroys of the Audiencias held such seals in the New World, and if the lockers reached Cádiz without the seal intact, then there would be hell to pay.

Even with the treasure securely locked away, Captain Martin did not avail himself of the feeling of comfort, and indeed it wasn’t until the Madre Santisima, and her sister ships, sailed the following morning that he at last breathed a private sigh of relief. With the galleon’s sails pulled taught with a favorable west wind, and the port of Veracruz now diminishing to a green smudge along the horizon behind him, Captain Martin relinquished command of his vessel to the helmsman. Retreating to the relative quiet of his cabin, the captain pulled off his boots, and lay heavily upon his bed before falling instantly into much deserved sleep.

Captain Martin’s sleep was not a restful one however, and as he lay tossing and turning, his mind became tormented by strange visions and flashes of horrific images of death and destruction. Despite his nightmares, sleep did not relinquish its hold upon the captain, and he was trapped by its clutches for several hours before it at last relinquished its grasp. Sitting up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, Captain Martin tried to force the thought out of his still reeling mind that his dreams had been nothing more than nightmares, and not an omen of what was to befall his ship in the weeks to come...

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The World

The year is 1667, and the golden age of piracy is upon the Caribbean. The riches of the New World call to the powers of Europe, and the developed nations descend upon it, hungry for the bounty. The French, Dutch, and English all vie for a piece of the frontier, but none are as successful in conquering the Caribbean like the Spanish. From California to Mexico, the Floridas, the West Indies, and south to Columbia, the crown of Spain holds a near undisputed dominion over it all.

New Spain bullion and raw goods flow from the flourishing economic hubs of Veracruz, Porto Bello, and Cartagena, through Havana, and on to its destination in Cádiz, Spain. The waters of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea are filled with Spanish merchantman, slavers, and warships, all working to maintain the priceless sea-lanes of King Charles II.

For those not beneath the Court of Charles, the Spanish Main is a dangerous place. In spite of the dangers, many answer the call of the New World’s untold riches, determined to deny Spain sole dominion. Far from the nodes of power in their home countries, all manner of rogue and villain descend into the Caribbean, eager to pluck the fat off of the bloated Spanish colonies and shipping lanes.

This strange New World that greets these opportunistic buccaneers is one of mystery and intrigue. Ethereal forces of nature, extraordinary creatures, and deities unheard of in Europe quickly cull those ill-suited for life across the Line. From the small English colony of Jamaica, and her capital, Port Royal, a group of privateers fights for their slice of the New World’s bounty, knowing that in spite of the dangers, fortune favors the bold.

The Dusk Skate

The Dusk Skate's banner



The Dusk Skate began her life as a Dutch frigate used for the escort of trade ships from Aruba. During her maiden voyage to the New World, her inexperienced captain became disoriented in a storm, and set out for the nearest visible island. The island turned out to be the English colony of St. Kitts, and also the home port of the notorious pirate known simply as Lightfoot. As the Dutch vessel laid anchor just off the coast of the island, Lightfoot and his crew managed to use the cover of a new moon to swim to the ship, sneak aboard, and take the vessel.

Lightfoot traded the larger, faster, and newer ship for his own sloop. The Dutch captain, disgraced and afraid accepted the offer at the point of a pistol barrel, and left St. Kitts without a single member of his crew coming to harm. Lightfoot renamed the vessel Dusk Skate after the dark colored stingrays that inhabited the waters around the Caribbean islands.

The Skate is a two-masted vessel, sporting twenty-six sails and forty cannon, including two swivel guns, and two pairs of chaser cannon. Though armed heavily for a pirate vessel, the ship’s true strength lies in her speed and shallow draft. She can run closer to the wind than other larger warships, and her draft depth allows her to escape into shoal waters otherwise impassable for her bigger cousins.

Character Sheet

Name:

Age:

Appearance:

Crew Position:

Background:

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tirgesfu-Jozua Arie Xander (Jax)

Lillian Thorne-Nicolette Beauchamp

Igraine-Antonia

AmongHeroes-Thomas Lightfoot

[AmongHeroes]

Age: Late 20’s, early 30’s

Appearance: Thomas is a man of commanding height and build. His exterior is rough and weathered, with skin that would be fair save for the constant rays of the Caribbean sun. Though he possesses hair of a natural auburn, again the sun has left its mark by bleaching his locks to a golden sheen. His eyes are dark copper, becoming ever darker with foul moods and sinful whims. Across his back are several large, circular scars; souvenirs from a near fatal encounter with a leviathan off the Mosquito Coast of Nicaragua. His jaw is ever adorned with a short cropped beard that is bleached blond like his hair, and suspended around his neck is a carved piece of scrimshaw; the only lasting memory from his true family.

Crew Position: Captain

Background: Thomas Lightfoot has no memory before the attack upon the ship that was to change his life forever. Seeking the opportunity of the New World, Thomas’ father, a merchant seaman, had set out for the tiny English settlement of St. Kitts, when the boy was no more than five years of age. Thomas had heard the tales of the strange evils in the seas of the Caribbean, and he can distinctly recall his fear of the unknown that fateful morning when his fears turned into cries of terror that were wholly tangible.

A Spanish Man-of-War from Guadeloupe set upon the English vessel, and the roar of cannon, the choke of acrid smoke, and the cries of dying seaman were forever scored into Thomas’ mind as his first true memory. His father died before his eyes, taking a large splinter of the ship’s main mast through his cheek, and into his brain. Thomas’ fingers had somehow worked the piece of scrimshaw from around his father’s lifeless neck, and then beyond that he recalled only the numbness, and then the blackness, and then nothing at all.

When he awoke, he was shocked to be alive, and even more stunned to be in the care of an English privateer. This man went by the singular name, Lightfoot, and the churlish rogue explained that his crew had happened upon the battle, and had sunk the Spanish warship before searching the still floating ruin of Thomas’ own vessel. It was there, Lightfoot said, that they found the boy, huddled over his father’s body, covered in blood and ash, and in total state of shock. Not another living soul was found aboard the English merchantman.

Lightfoot took in young Thomas, and brought him back to the pirate stronghold of Tortuga. Amongst the corsairs, buccaneers, pirates, and privateers, Thomas was raised. Lightfoot taught the boy all he knew of the world, of seamanship, and of the strange dangers of the Caribbean. He learned to speak Dutch, French, and Spanish. He learned to shoot and fight, to steal and kill, but most important of all, Lightfoot taught him how to be cunning.

By the time he was sixteen, Thomas sailed always at Lightfoot’s side. The unlikely pair raided the hated Spanish settlements and sea lanes from Florida to the Antilles, and beyond. Thomas had found his calling, and truly the sea had become his home.

Early in Thomas’ twenties, Lightfoot was killed by Shaking Fever as the privateer crew was holed up on an unnamed island after barely surviving the wrath of a great hurricane. It was there, as Lightfoot fought to remain conscious amid his haze of fever and rum, that he passed his ship onto Thomas, and bid that the crew vote him as their new captain. It was that day that Thomas became a true privateer, and the captain of the infamous frigate, Dusk Skate. Thomas relocated to the English colony city of Port Royal, and from then on has worked to line his coffers, and those of his crew, with Spanish gold and the hope of eternal life through delicious infamy.

[Lillian Thorne]

Name:Nicolette Beauchamp

Age: Mid twenties and you will get no more details than that

Appearance:Very tall for a woman Nicolette strikes an imposing figure in her men’s garb which does little to hide the graceful curves of her body. She favors frock-coats and waist coats and thigh-high boots that cling to her impressive legs. She has straight mid-blond hair and lightly golden skin both of which she protects from the sun with a broad-brimmed hat. For all her vanity about her skin and hair there is one very obvious mar to her otherwise angelic features, an ugly brand on her left cheek in the shape of a crude P.

Crew Position: First Mate/Doctor

Background: “I was a stupid, silly girl, but then I got better.”

The doted on youngest daughter of a French aristocrat who fancied himself a scholar and free thinker, Nicolette and her older sisters Raquel and Marie were all encouraged to read and develop their intellects. A widower, he constantly was charmed by their beauty and grace and adored their “little talks” in which they discussed all manner of things, from politics to science to philosophy and art. Raquel and Marie were less studious than Nicolette and soon turned to matters of feminine concern but Nicolette remained interested in all manner of things, especially the science of the body and medicines. She was fascinated by what she read about Vaccines, titillated by macabre tales of body theft and the break-through made by the bold scientists who participated in the illicit trade. Her father was charmed by her boldness and bought her all manner of books and tutors and she drank it all in, believing in her own intelligence and potential. That she could do whatever she dreamed because her Papa told her she could.

But she was sheltered, protected on their little estate tucked into a quaint corner of the country. Her father’s doting encouraged her and gave her an inflated sense of her own abilities. His delight in her spirit only inflamed her until one day she decided to take her own destiny into her hands. She slipped out of her rooms in the middle of the night dressed in the clothing she’d bought off of a groom’s son for the price of a few kisses and some coin. She cut her hair and with great boldness and spirit traveled to the nearest big city and joined the Navy as Private Nicolas Beauchamp, using her family name and wealth to secure an officer’s berth.

To her credit she did surprisingly well, keeping her gender hidden long enough to get herself assigned as an assistant to one of the many medics in her unit. She learned everything she could and didn’t shy away from blood and bone and was even able to apply a few of the things she’d read about, which impressed her master. But her dream was foolish and it was only a matter of time before she was discovered. She was never sure what did her in, if someone had come upon her bathing, if her carefully controlled, affected voice had slipped, if her breast binding hadn’t been enough one day, it could have been any number of things. The end result was the same. She was discovered and the captain of her ship, a misogynist who took her deception personally let the crew take its affront out on her. Before they threw her ashore, battered and used, they took a branding iron to her face, marking her for what she was, a Whore (Putain).

Somehow she made her way home, disillusioned and all but broken in spirit. She craved the golden safety of her family, to repair what had been done to body and spirit. But what she got there was not what she expected. Her father was mortified, embarrassed at her foolishness. Word had gotten around about her deception and she was turned out with nothing but her clothing on her back and a small sack of coins tossed to her with the command to never return.

Stunned by this change, the last of her foolishness seemed to burn away in the heat of her anger. She lifted her chin, spat at her father’s feet and left, never to look back. Fortunately she had not used her time in the Navy badly and had gained enough skill with sword and scalpel to find her way onto ships of less repute eventually finding her way onto her current Berth, Dusk Skate where she earned her place as first mate and surgeon with hard work, iron will and not a drop of fanciful dreaming. After all, she got better.

[tirgesfu]

Jozua Arie Xander
Nickname Jax

Age:
Of course he doesn’t really know or when asked will go on about which movement is counted, the turning of the seas or the seasons or the clips on some rulers tabs? By appearance he is in his late twenties. By personality it is often commented he is younger.

Appearance:
Solid. Unrefined. Hair and build are always the noted first. Followed by the mischievous eyes and easy free smile. His blond wrapped hair hangs over his shoulders and although he take little care of it he his very attached to those locks. The wind through his hair is a real high, and he tosses his head often embracing that feel. His shoulders are wide and have no trouble being adorned by this sundrenched hair. Thick arms and wide legs define him sometimes as stocky. But the proportions are not unpleasant. There is not one bit of fat. Shorter than his Captain, and yet they both have the fair northern tone more unusual in the darker tones of the Caribbean.

Position:
Navigator and Helmsman.

Background:
Jax tells the tale that he was born on a ship. Parents invented sailed from his ancestral roots of Maastricht Holland to better themselves while he was but a bun a warming. Truth is he was picked off his orphaned street and tossed into a hold as a very young boy. So he grew up on ships.

But he jumped from one to another whenever possible thinking as a child to find that paradise, then as an adolescent to see the world, and as a young man to collect wealth. He has been successful because he learned every early on what skill was sought after. Direction, navigation. Jax crept into every map room, befriended every navigator, studied each night sky and embraced the sea’s direction. He knew how to maneuver a ship. He had grown into the roll and now he is one of the best.

He has been on lots of ship but knows and remembers each and every one better than he connects the names of the soft woman curves he enjoys at ports. He had been hired and stood on deck for just a minute and refused to sail all because he did not like the feel of the sails, or the curve of the bow, or the feel of the wheel.

He loves Dusk Skate. He did from the first time he laid eyes on her. He is not as sure of the mates but he is beginning to find the current of things, the rise and falls of the crew and Captain.

Jax is new to the ship having to wiggle his way in by getting the old helmsman drunk and paying him to stay ashore. He left a different pirate ship or more or less traded spots, and now is trying to secure this new position.

[Igraine]

Name: Antonia (Yes, she does have a surname, but she will not tell it so you may not have it. And the one thing you may trust is that if she does give one? That is assuredly a lie.)

Age: 24

Appearance: This of course, will vary on the circumstances. The only aspects that never change, are the thick, lustrous mane of ebony hair, skin the deep warm color of caramel, and those calculating grey eyes.

Antonia is quite at her ease in grand finery and pale make-up, her hair straightened and then beautifully tended about her face, grey eyes shining and imperious. She could be the epitome of an exotic European courtesan, moving with an unerring grace through noble courts and gentrified plantations alike. Her French is Parisian perfect, as are her elegant manners, her lovely deep singing voice and her skill at the harpsichord in any proper parlor.

On any other given day, she might seem bedraggled and worn, yet as defiant and loud and unrepentant as any bawdy woman, half-dressed and bold as you please, wandering eyes and carefully displayed flashes of skin and breast and lush, red lips calling a man to heaven or damnation - if he honestly cared which it might be for the night, or if he'd wake up in the morning far lighter of riches for his troubles.

Though on the Dusk Skate alone, she will seem little more than a woman of strangely mixed origins, her thick hair tied back from her face, hanging to the middle of her back. Quietly she goes about lending a hand where needed, dressed in obviously borrowed men's clothing, a large loose shirt of ivory linen and brown pants tucked into leather boots that had seen a good deal of hard use, a simple hooded, woolen cloak against what weather might come. While she maintains a large trunk of a wardrobe in the hold, Antonia seems otherwise content to spend a good deal of time on ship in the crow's nest, where Captain Lightfoot has seen fit to employ her keen eyes as lookout.

Crew Position: Spymaster/ crow's nest look-out

Background: Because she will not speak of it but for a very few and rare circumstances - and she will certainly volunteer nothing (and again, if it is volunteered willingly? Be assured once more, 'tis a lie), the details of her parentage or childhood are unspoken. But for whatever Captain Lightfoot might share of their original meeting with anyone aboard the ship, or even of their quieter conversations, Antonia will not. Still, she's taken to lightheartedly calling him her 'lovely man,' or 'Silver Fish' or even 'Captain Silver Fish' if she were feeling particularly officious in the moment. He doesn't seem to mind too terribly, after all.

But since she will not speak of her origins - not even with her 'lovely man' - then I'll not write more on the matter here either. Surmise what you will, of the woman you 'see' before you, and know she'll have a mask - lovely or terrible - for all occasions, and formulate a lie as easily as she breathes. Antonia is obviously well-educated, surprisingly so even, and speaks French beautifully, fluently, and but for that thick, warm Creole accent she speaks English just as well. The only other thing of note might, perhaps, be the fact that if the Dusk Skate ever moored in Martinique, Antonia will flat out refuse to leave the ship's confines, or set foot on that island's soil, and no amount of promised gold or dire threats will move her.