Hold on to the Light

The Kingdom of Brettania - A small island with large ambitions.

Hold on to the Light

Postby Orion » Mon Sep 25, 2017 1:46 am


Angel Barbone held onto the ship's wheel with a deadly grip, knuckles white, fighting the pull of a tumultuous ocean wracked by having waves. A hurricane had recently passed through, and the dark skies cast a pall over the water, turning it black as pitch. The only color was the white caps as giant waves crested and fell, churned up from deep down in Davy Jones' locker. It was all she could do to keep the rudder straight, the waves endlessly beating away at the ship, trying to tear it away. Angel's long black hair was matted in long runnels down her back, the tricorn she wore dripping with water but keeping her eyes clear enough to navigate.

Kilian, the Quartermaster, gingerly crossed the deck. His feet occassionally slipping on the wet deck as the ship pitched from side to side in sickening forty foot heaves. Hauling himself from one rope to another, he eventually made it across, stepping around the other sailors who were holding on for dear life. White tufts of hair sprouted from the red bandana he wore, covering an otherwise balding pate. His small round glasses were precariously balanced on his nose, giving him a teacherly look that was not all unbefitting.

"Captain," he bellowed when he finally reached Angel's side. "The Black Plume is taking a beating in these waters, you might ease up a bit lest we snap the rudder."

Angel glared at him. "I am perfectly capable of steering the ship, Quartermaster," she retorted angrily.

"Begging pardon, m'lady, I just don't wish to see us set adrift for days," replied Kilian in a subdued tone.

"We're only two days away from the Skerries. With the Natopians gone I will not delay further. This is the chance we've been waiting for."

"Point taken, Captain," said Kilian, accepting the inevitable. "I'll have the ship's carpenter make a spare rudder just in case." And he trotted off to the ship's hold.

Angel turned back to the waters ahead, still black and churning. Two days until land. Two days until the Skerries. It had been two centuries since a Barbone had last set foot on those shores. But would the secret they left buried in the sand still be there after all this time?
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