Beany McBean

Scourge of the Seas

Co-written with @Luftwaffles, @Maki the Finn, @surebeens, and @Mardox.

---

The Old Albatross Tavern, Nassau

The air was thick with the stench of tobacco smoke and stale beer, the flickering orange glow of candles and lanterns barely penetrating the evening gloom. Tankards clinked, dice clattered across sturdy wooden tables, and the shouts of patrons both joyful and belligerent formed a cacophonous racket. But alas, that was the music of Nassau; a home to thieves, drunkards, whores, and pirates of the very foulest kind. A republic of pirates, some saw fit to call it, and it was hardly an ill-fitting accolade - the law had long since fled this place, turned it over to those who made their livings at the tip of a cutlass or the muzzle of a cannon. But most of the scarred, vicious men in the tavern saw it not as a new Sodom or Gomorrah, but simply as home.

John Lysander Blackett, the infamous 'Black Jack' who captained the pirate frigate Bucephalus, was one such man. Waving over a bar wench burnened with a heavy tray of overflowing tankards, the captain laid a pair of cards face down on the table as he passed a fresh round of drinks to the other fellows gathered around him. Scanning the table with a single blue eye, the pirate ran a hand through his short beard, before pushing forward a gold coin towards the centre where a small pile of similar currency waited. "Raise. One doubloon." he grunted, gesturing to the burly, greying man sat to his left. "Your go, Gresham."

The old quartermaster sighed, taking a large swig of ale, a few drips clinging to his moustache. "Fold." He threw his own cards down with an air of exasperation.

The ship's surgeon, Cato Valentinovna, reviewed her cards. She raised her eyebrow, watching the rest of the officers as she decided her next move. "Such an uncivilized game. Leaving it all up to chance, just silly." She sighed. "I will match your bet." She threw another coin into the centre of the table, keeping her cards close to her chest.

"The game isn't uncivilized; it's a show of wits." Adolfus tossed in two coins. "I raise two doubloons." He took a swig from his flask as he looked around the table, stone-faced, and focused on the Quartermaster. "I thought you were good at numbers?" He said in a half-joking tone.

"Aye," the grizzled officer responded with a shake of the head. "But the numbers aren't being good to me tonight." As he drained the last dregs of his ale, the two crewmen to the left of Adolfus threw down their own cards, sighing frustratedly.

Captain Blackett chuckled, giving a good-natured nod to both his surgeon and engineer. "And then, there were three." He slid a second coin over, followed by a third, and then a fourth. "I'll see your bet and raise you two more."

"I sure hoped you saw my bet, one-eye." He said, as he raised his eyebrows and let out a sigh. "I fold, good Kapitän." Adolfus then got up from the table, wiping his mouth,"I'm going to go find something that resembles an outhouse in this god-forsaken place. Good luck, Jack."

"Much obliged, Adolfus," replied Blackett. "Although I can't imagine I'll need much luck now." He shot a wry grin at Cato. "Care to bet? Or were you planning on following these fine gentlemens' examples?"

Adolfus chortled as he exited the building. The ship's surgeon reviewed her cards, maintaining her frown. After a moment of hesitation, she pushed her entire pile of doubloons forward. She looked up, looking around the table with a small smile on her face.

A dark man sitting in a booth in the corner watched Adolfus leave, then returned his gaze to the poker match. He studied the attire of each player, their mannerisms and the way they interacted with each other. He raised an eyebrow when the woman piled all of her gold into the center of the table, curious to see how this would play out.

His name was Raphe Alan Leverett, a mercenary currently working as the Master Gunner of The Zodiac's Warning, under Captain Theodore de la Cruz. He had been watching the patrons of this tavern for hours, as was his custom before his captain entered any establishment their first day on land. Why this particular group had caught Raphe's eye, he did not know.

The Captain chuckled as he saw Cato's money slide into the middle of the table. "Well, you've got more bollocks than the rest of these fellows." He pushed his own coins forward. "Alright, I'll bite. All in. Let's see your hand."

Cato put her five cards down, pointing at each of them individually. "I have three sixes. That is quite a high hand, is it not?"

"A higher hand than you think," Blackett replied. "You have two threes - that's a full house." He placed his own cards down; all clubs, but without sequence. "Which beats my flush. Well played."

"Aha!" The surgeon smiled broadly and dragged the pile of coins towards her side of the table. "I'll be taking all of that, thank you very much." She immediately began to order her new prize, stacking the doubloons in columns of three.

"Verdamnt! There's no pisspots around here." Adolfus said as he walked over to the bar. "do you have any lager? also, buy one for this fellow besides me and.." He scanned the room for a sober soul, "That brooding fellow over there!" He points at Raphe, and nods to the barkeep as he pours Raphe's drink. He then took his tankard, and sat back down at the poker table. "Wheres the game at- hahaha! You let the Russian frau beat you, Jack?" The fates aren't on your side tonight."

A minute later, Raphe looked at an approaching barmaid, confused. "I didn't order anything." he roughly asserted. The maid placed a tankard of beer in front of him. "Courtesy of Old Smokey there," pointing to Adolfus. Raphe nodded at the man, surprised.

He nodded back, sauntered over to Ralphe's booth, and took a seat; as he initiatied a toast with the man. "Not everyday we see a new face around here. They usually die on their first voyage. My name is Adolfus, or Ady. What's yours, stranger?

Raphe eyed the man suspiciously before slowly raising his tankard. "Name's Raphe."

"Good to meet you, Raphe. So tell me, are you here for business or pleasure?" He clinked his mug into Raphe's and took a swig of his drink.

Raphe lowered his tankard without taking a sip. "Business. What have I done to earn your attention?"

"Seeing a sober man in a tavern of miscreants is a suspicious sight indeed. Plus I saw you eying mein compatriots."

"More suspicious is a man who's too kind to strangers," Raphe replied, "But if you must know I'm waiting for my captain."

"Well I can understand that, with all the cutthroats and backstabbers, a friendly face may seem a bit strange. But I have good reason; 'cause you see, I'm something of a craftsman. And I am in the market for things you may deem unvaluable. Raw ores, ingots, pitch, cotton, hardwood, et cetera. So my friendliness is simply me, extending my hand in a possible mutually benefical deal; and if your captain is showing up, I'll buy him a drink as well, and we can all talk business." He explained, as he drained the last of his warm beer.

It was then that a slightly overweight Spaniard with an ornate captain's uniform and an almost comically large mustache walked through the tavern doors. Rather than take a seat, he chose to address the mostly-drunkern crowd of ruffians. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen! I'd like to buy each of you a drink and discuss grand opportunities for fame and fortune!"

Adolfus pointed at the entering spaniard and tapped Raphe,"That your captain?" He nodded, and went back to swirling his drink. Adolfus whistled and waved Cruz over to their booth.

Theodore de la Cruz, captain extraordinaire and self-anointed Prince of Adventure, swaggered over to the pair and took a seat. "My good sir," he asked Adolfus, "are you interested in the wonders upon the sea that I have to offer?"

"Not at all, good captain; I have my own crew. But, I did want to talk to you about future trade opportunities that could be profitable for both of our ships." He repeated the spiel that he told Raphe just moments ago and ordered the captain another beer, the same as Raphe's.

Captain Blackett took the first sip of his latest pint of ale, raising a hand to carefully wipe away the frothy white head from his moustache. He subtly gestured in the direction of Adolfus. "Our engineer seems to be getting awful friendly with that Spaniard, doesn't he..."

Cato looked over at the German with less subtlety. "It certainly looks that way. Perhaps he's..." She raised her eyebrows. "Sexually inverse. Far from any sort of civilisation here, I suppose one could be bolder."

The Englishman chuckled, glancing over again at the pair. "Now there's a disturbing thought that will require something far stronger than ale to erase." His face grew more serious. "But it is far preferable to the alternative, which is that our friend is either knowingly or inadvertently entangling this crew in Spanish business."

"You are the captain, aren't you? I thought it was you who decided what this crew is entangled in." Cato shrugged. "He's probably just talking. We're in a tavern, after all."

Blackett sighed. "You are probably right. I do apologise; I have a nasty habit of assuming the worst." He dragged his eyes firmly away from the far table. "Anyway, it is probably time I took my leave. I have courses to plot and books to pore over, as usual. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and be ready to sail by noon tomorrow." He gave Cato a polite nod, and then repeated the gesture to each of the other officers who lined the table. Picking up his black tricorn and placing it atop his head, the Captain turned and headed for the exit, weaving his way through the crowds of drunken and rowdy sailors until he had disappeared from sight.

Adolfus watched as Blackett left. "Alas, I must take my leave. Though if you want to follow up on my offer, just give a letter to the bartender. I'm a regular here, so it'll make it to me." He sidled out of the booth, gave the men a bow, and headed for the ship.

Scourge of the Seas

@Joytex I'll wait for Blondy to accept you properly, but as co-GM I am greatly in favour of having some PCs actively hunting pirate PCs.

Scourge of the Seas

@SantosGabriel77
So firstly your source doesn't say "ramming was used as a desperate measure", it says "ramming was never used because it would probably just fuck up the attacker's ship without doing much to the target". Secondly, why would you go to the extra expense and effort, not to mention the added weight and probably sup-optimal hull profile, of adding a ram to your ship if it's a desperate last resort and requires evacuating your ship beforehand?

Scourge of the Seas

SHIP DESCRIPTION/SPECS:
The Golden Eagle is a massive frigate with 42 broadside guns and 4 chase guns. Armed with swivel guns for close range combat (boarding or bay battles) George altered the ship, he saw potential as the ship had 3 large decks (As the construction was overseen by his father who did not follow classic Frigate styles) the first deck had the guns and some bedrolls, the second deck had no guns and served as a storage and recreation area and a little library. The third deck was where the living quarters and most of the office of the officers. The ship has a figure on the front, a man with a hat breaking his chain. The front of the ship was built for ramming

@SantosGabriel77

That 'frigate' would have to be longer than a first rate ship-of-the-line and about the same height.

Scourge of the Seas

NAME: John Lysander Blackett (aka 'Black Jack')

SEX: Male

DATE OF BIRTH: 28th January 1683


PLACE OF BIRTH: Newcastle, England

BACKSTORY: John Lysander Blackett was born in 1683, the second son of a minor English noble family. His family’s fortune was dwindling, and they were forced to sell their ancestral castle while John was a young child, moving to their second home in London. There, the young boy was educated by a series of private tutors in a wide variety of subjects. He was a gifted student, but had always had a singular interest in ships, being able to watch both merchant and navy vessels on the Thames from his bedroom window. At age 20, he left home to enlist in the Royal Navy as an officer, and was awarded a role as a lieutenant on the HMS Southsea Castle, a 5th rate frigate bound for the Caribbean. John, along with most of the crew, grew to resent their cruel and incompetent captain, and after a year of patrolling the seas under his harsh rule began to plot a mutiny against him. Electing the young lieutenant as their leader, as demonstrably one of the most intelligent and well-suited among them to the job, the mutineers struck as the Southsea Castle under its cowardly captain fled from a Spanish galleon. Bursting into the captain’s cabin, John personally slew his enemy and assumed command, bringing the ship around and outmaneuvering the Spanish vessel to heavily damage it. In the ensuing fight, a splinter of wood ripped through his left eye, but he continued to give orders until the battle was won.

Since then, Captain Blackett has prowled the waters of the Caribbean, ambushing and looting Spanish and British ships alike, as well as anyone else who dares to cross his path. He is a firm captain, with an insistence on regular training and strict – but never unfair – discipline uncommon among pirates. His ship, the Bucephalus, is one of the most agile pirate vessels in the region, with a fairly impressive armament and a well-trained crew – although it must rely on clever tactics rather than sheer firepower to tackle the larger navy vessels that patrol the seas with increasing regularity.


APPEARANCE: i.imgur.com/OKZSz1n.jpg


MOTIVATION: To win a fortune worthy of rebuilding his family’s estates and prestige.

SKILLS/STRENGTHS: Highly educated and well read. Good navigator. A penchant for devious strategy. Fluent in English, French, and Spanish, proficient in Dutch. Skilled swordsman.

WEAKNESSES: Poor skill at unarmed combat, average marksmanship. Missing an eye. Seen by crew as haughty and arrogant, and some dislike his discipline and training regimens, although their mood is improved by consistently good pay.

NAME OF CAPTAIN (if applicable): N/A

ROLE ON SHIP: Captain

NAME OF SHIP: The Bucephalus

SHIP DESCRIPTION/SPECS: The Bucephalus is a 32 gun frigate, formerly a 5th rate warship of the Royal Navy. It carries 24 broadside 12-pound guns, 4 long 9-pound bow chasers, and 4 long 9-pound stern chasers, along with 6 swivel guns on deck for close action. It has a crew complement of 145. Under Captain Blackett, the ship is decorated with crimson sails, a Jolly Roger depicting a horse with the lower half of a fish (hippocampus) piercing a heart with a trident, and a bronze figurehead depicting the same creature as on the flag, minus the trident and heart.

Scourge of the Seas

NAME: John Lysander Blackett (aka 'Black Jack')

SEX: Male

DATE OF BIRTH: 28th January 1683


PLACE OF BIRTH: Newcastle, England

BACKSTORY: John Lysander Blackett was born in 1683, the second son of a minor English noble family. His family’s fortune was dwindling, and they were forced to sell their ancestral castle while John was a young child, moving to their second home in London. There, the young boy was educated by a series of private tutors in a wide variety of subjects. He was a gifted student, but had always had a singular interest in ships, being able to watch both merchant and navy vessels on the Thames from his bedroom window. At age 20, he left home to enlist in the Royal Navy as an officer, and was awarded a role as a lieutenant on the HMS Southsea Castle, a 5th rate frigate bound for the Caribbean. John, along with most of the crew, grew to resent their cruel and incompetent captain, and after a year of patrolling the seas under his harsh rule began to plot a mutiny against him. Electing the young lieutenant as their leader, as demonstrably one of the most intelligent and well-suited among them to the job, the mutineers struck as the Southsea Castle under its cowardly captain fled from a Spanish galleon. Bursting into the captain’s cabin, John personally slew his enemy and assumed command, bringing the ship around and outmaneuvering the Spanish vessel to heavily damage it. In the ensuing fight, a splinter of wood ripped through his left eye, but he continued to give orders until the battle was won.

Since then, Captain Blackett has prowled the waters of the Caribbean, ambushing and looting Spanish and British ships alike, as well as anyone else who dares to cross his path. He is a firm captain, with an insistence on regular training and strict – but never unfair – discipline uncommon among pirates. His ship, the Bucephalus, is one of the most agile pirate vessels in the region, with a fairly impressive armament and a well-trained crew – although it must rely on clever tactics rather than sheer firepower to tackle the larger navy vessels that patrol the seas with increasing regularity.


APPEARANCE: i.imgur.com/OKZSz1n.jpg


MOTIVATION: To win a fortune worthy of rebuilding his family’s estates and prestige.

SKILLS/STRENGTHS: Highly educated and well read. Good navigator. A penchant for devious strategy. Fluent in English, French, and Spanish, proficient in Dutch. Skilled swordsman.

WEAKNESSES: Poor skill at unarmed combat, average marksmanship. Missing an eye. Seen by crew as haughty and arrogant, and some dislike his discipline and training regimens, although their mood is improved by consistently good pay.

NAME OF CAPTAIN (if applicable): N/A

ROLE ON SHIP: Captain

NAME OF SHIP: The Bucephalus

SHIP DESCRIPTION/SPECS: The Bucephalus is a 32 gun frigate, formerly a 5th rate warship of the Royal Navy. It carries 24 broadside 12-pound guns, 4 long 9-pound bow chasers, and 4 long 9-pound stern chasers, along with 6 swivel guns on deck for close action. It has a crew complement of 145. Under Captain Blackett, the ship is decorated with crimson sails, a Jolly Roger depicting a horse with the lower half of a fish (hippocampus) piercing a heart with a trident, and a bronze figurehead depicting the same creature as on the flag, minus the trident and heart.

Wanted: Squad of killers to dispose of Chosen One

Character Sheet:
Name: Everil Malapharius Carne
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Age: 140
Appearance: i.imgur.com/poTog85.png
Religion: None
Backstory: The eldest son of a prominent military family in Gennebeuge - the lands that would later become Zal Drudakk - Everil was drilled in the art of war from a very young age, with the expectation that one day he would become a respected general like his father. But while he certainly demonstrated a natural flair for combat and leadership, the young boy grew to see the conventional military as a very limited, and began to show an interest in less orthodox subjects. Still, when he came of age, he entered the army as the Lieutenant of a fairly respectable infantry regiment, and showed considerable promise as an officer. Much to the disdain of his father, though, Everil began to devote his spare time towards the study of magic, gradually gravitating towards the darker branches of the sorcerous craft.

By the time civil war erupted in Gennebeuge, Everil had risen to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, commanding a full battalion of musketeers. His aptitude for the dark arts had also grown considerably – ostensibly in secret, although rumours circulated suggesting various foul and disturbing things. The Lieutenant-Colonel’s first battle came shortly after the conflict began, where forces loyal to the king, Everil included, found themselves surrounded and outnumbered in a small town by supporters of his bastard brother. The encircled army fought bravely, but in the end were worn down and wiped out to a man.

A week later, strange tales began to spread regarding events inside the occupied town – mysterious disappearances and deaths, and terrifying sightings of walking corpses. Sure enough, the enemy army was rapidly falling victim to relentless undead attacks, forcing them to abandon their posts and retreat. Encouraged by the news, the king’s loyalist forces sent a detachment of troops to reclaim the town. What they saw astonished them. Marching out of the now-liberated settlement, a small company of rotting soldiers, muskets clutched in their skeletal arms, formed up in front of the living troops. From within their midst, Everil, noticeably gaunt and pallid, came forward and explained to the allied officers how he had reclaimed the town from the enemy’s grasp.

Far from being celebrated for his remarkable victory, however, Everil was immediately taken prisoner, awaiting court-martial for his use of necromancy, a branch of sorcery outlawed in Gennebeuge. With no choice but to escape and go into hiding, the dark mage slipped out of his prison and fled north into the mountains.

Over the next century, Everil spent his time tirelessly practicing and improving his necromantic powers, as well as carving out an almost-palatial mountain lair – with the aid of his undead slaves, of course. By the time the Dark Lord Zalheidas took power, and Gennebeuge became Zal Drudakk, the former officer was now strong enough to raise whole legions of walking corpses and command them to do his bidding. Descending finally from the mountains, the necromancer approached and pledged his allegiance to the Dark Lord, promising to aid him in his planned conquest of all Hethras.

Motivation: Everil desires power and wealth, as do most, but that is not his only motive. He has come to believe that the world could legitimately be made a far better place if necromancy was tolerated and the undead were more widely utilised – manual labour, warfare, and other such unpleasant tasks could be carried out by the deceased, while the living would be free to devote their time to the pursuit of knowledge and pleasure. As the only major player who does not despise necromancy, the Dark Lord is a natural ally towards achieving such ends.
Magic: Everil is a powerful necromancer, capable of raising and controlling legions of undead warriors, communing with the spirits of the deceased, and extending his own lifespan indefinitely.
Skills/Strengths: Aside from his magical abilities, Everil is a skilled leader and strategist, as well as being knowledgeable in a wide array of academic disciplines.
Weaknesses: The magics used to prolong his own life have left him somewhat lacking in physical strength – while certainly not a cripple, Everil would not fare well in feats of athleticism.
Gear: Clothes and hat (shown in picture), overcoat lined with steel plates, undead horse, various books & grimoires etc., crystal ball, money, food & water, tent, maps, a pair of flintlock pistols with silver bullets and a sabre for personal defence, a regiment of skeleton musketeers with an attached company of skeleton riflemen, all with bayonets, along with the powder and shot to keep them fighting.
Other: He can raise more undead than just that regiment, but it would be silly if he travelled with a huge horde all the time. All supplies and heavy/bulky items e.g. food, water, books etc. are carried by his skeleton troops when travelling.

Wanted: Squad of killers to dispose of Chosen One

Character Sheet:
Name: Everil Malapharius Carne
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Age: 140
Appearance: i.imgur.com/poTog85.png
Religion: None
Backstory: The eldest son of a prominent military family in Gennebeuge - the lands that would later become Zal Drudakk - Everil was drilled in the art of war from a very young age, with the expectation that one day he would become a respected general like his father. But while he certainly demonstrated a natural flair for combat and leadership, the young boy grew to see the conventional military as a very limited, and began to show an interest in less orthodox subjects. Still, when he came of age, he entered the army as the Lieutenant of a fairly respectable infantry regiment, and showed considerable promise as an officer. Much to the disdain of his father, though, Everil began to devote his spare time towards the study of magic, gradually gravitating towards the darker branches of the sorcerous craft.

By the time civil war erupted in Gennebeuge, Everil had risen to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, commanding a full battalion of musketeers. His aptitude for the dark arts had also grown considerably – ostensibly in secret, although rumours circulated suggesting various foul and disturbing things. The Lieutenant-Colonel’s first battle came shortly after the conflict began, where forces loyal to the king, Everil included, found themselves surrounded and outnumbered in a small town by supporters of his bastard brother. The encircled army fought bravely, but in the end were worn down and wiped out to a man.

A week later, strange tales began to spread regarding events inside the occupied town – mysterious disappearances and deaths, and terrifying sightings of walking corpses. Sure enough, the enemy army was rapidly falling victim to relentless undead attacks, forcing them to abandon their posts and retreat. Encouraged by the news, the king’s loyalist forces sent a detachment of troops to reclaim the town. What they saw astonished them. Marching out of the now-liberated settlement, a small company of rotting soldiers, muskets clutched in their skeletal arms, formed up in front of the living troops. From within their midst, Everil, noticeably gaunt and pallid, came forward and explained to the allied officers how he had reclaimed the town from the enemy’s grasp.

Far from being celebrated for his remarkable victory, however, Everil was immediately taken prisoner, awaiting court-martial for his use of necromancy, a branch of sorcery outlawed in Gennebeuge. With no choice but to escape and go into hiding, the dark mage slipped out of his prison and fled north into the mountains.

Over the next century, Everil spent his time tirelessly practicing and improving his necromantic powers, as well as carving out an almost-palatial mountain lair – with the aid of his undead slaves, of course. By the time the Dark Lord Zalheidas took power, and Gennebeuge became Zal Drudakk, the former officer was now strong enough to raise whole legions of walking corpses and command them to do his bidding. Descending finally from the mountains, the necromancer approached and pledged his allegiance to the Dark Lord, promising to aid him in his planned conquest of all Hethras.

Motivation: Everil desires power and wealth, as do most, but that is not his only motive. He has come to believe that the world could legitimately be made a far better place if necromancy was tolerated and the undead were more widely utilised – manual labour, warfare, and other such unpleasant tasks could be carried out by the deceased, while the living would be free to devote their time to the pursuit of knowledge and pleasure. As the only major player who does not despise necromancy, the Dark Lord is a natural ally towards achieving such ends.
Magic: Everil is a powerful necromancer, capable of raising and controlling legions of undead warriors, communing with the spirits of the deceased, and extending his own lifespan indefinitely.
Skills/Strengths: Aside from his magical abilities, Everil is a skilled leader and strategist, as well as being knowledgeable in a wide array of academic disciplines.
Weaknesses: The magics used to prolong his own life have left him somewhat lacking in physical strength – while certainly not a cripple, Everil would not fare well in feats of athleticism.
Gear: Clothes and hat (shown in picture), overcoat lined with steel plates, undead horse, various books & grimoires etc., crystal ball, money, food & water, tent, maps, a pair of flintlock pistols with silver bullets and a sabre for personal defence, a regiment of skeleton musketeers with an attached company of skeleton riflemen, all with bayonets, along with the powder and shot to keep them fighting.
Other: He can raise more undead than just that regiment, but it would be silly if he travelled with a huge horde all the time. All supplies and heavy/bulky items e.g. food, water, books etc. are carried by his skeleton troops when travelling.