Summoning of the Wolfpacks

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An archipelago with a rich history in the Captive Sea.

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Captain Poldark
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Summoning of the Wolfpacks

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Three days had passed since Captain Poldark had been wrestled to the ground by the thoroughly alarmed crew on the bridge of the IRENS Jahangir Plan, having been on the cusp of issuing an illegal, insane and immoral order to drench the city of Shahpur in chlorine gas, who had then proceeded to hogtie the indignant commander who, still bellowing his fury and defiance was dragged from the bridge in ignominy and locked into his cabin. The crewmen who took in his daily meal and had the noisome task of emptying his slop bucket had reported that the Captain's white hot rage had now subsided into a more sullen despair. By the third day he had barely tried when attempting to stab the midshipman with his soup spoon.

Of the two-hundred men who attempted to land at Shahpur, ninety-eight had survived long enough to heed the recall. Of the fifty volunteers who had remained aboard the Melanje, twenty-three had perished in the second missile strike amidships. The fire aboard the Melanje had burned uncontrollably after that and she had been abandoned in harbor as a trophy or rather a burnt offering for the victorious Passio-Corum War League. The surviving crew was redistributed amongst the remaining ships, leaving a total complement of 821 seamen and 125 landsmen. The defeated flotilla had made no bones of sharply turning on its heels and making a dash for the variegated and politically fractured archipelago known as the Skerry Isles. Presently their course took them closest to the Natopian maritime zones. If possible the intention was not to linger.

Meanwhile the commanders of the surface fleet had once more gathered in conference. Warrant Officer Lewis, who had since appropriated for himself the title of Master and Commander of the Jahangir Plan once again served as the chairman of the meeting on the basis that it was his rum that was been served in chipped enamel cups to his confederates in this affair; Redford, Roderick, Kupliva, Flaxen, Mansfield & Compton.

'So, we are agreed that Mr Poldark retains command. Or at least he will resume once he has sufficiently recovered his wits?' Lewis enunciated each word dubiously between sips of neat rum as if not quite trusting the flavor of the sentiments, the rum or indeed both.
'Nominally.' Captain Kupliva replied as she absentmindedly twiddled an errant strand of blonde hair between fore-finger and thumb, doing so habitually in a manner that Lewis personally found excruciatingly annoying.
'Nominally,' he echoed, willing his gorge not to rise at her for interrupting merely to state the plainly obvious 'since it will be easier for our remaining u-boats to accept their new orders if they come through the familiar channels especially if they are to be told to ignore any signals they may receive from Admiralty in Ergonc...'
'They won't buy it.' Captain Mansfield warned, swirling the dregs of his mug in such a way as to suggest he was angling for a refill. He could angle all he wanted, Lewis was determined that no one was going to abuse his generosity or patience further until an agreement was reached. Although conversely, another drink might soften his doubts, or make him more contrary, and damn it it was his rum the leaches were guzzling.
'They will. We've told them to go onto silent running now that the Thurisaz Squadron has joined the hunt. Any order to the contrary of those given at the start of the observation mission, to return to base or surface, is to be treated as enemy misinformation. Besides, as far as they are concerned now, we are on a war footing. The observation mission is over, superseded by commerce raiding and harassment actions. The wolfpacks have their assigned ranging zones and as the u-boats break away for replenishment then we can make the offer to their captains, one by one, to sign the articles. Which we still need to agree'. he added testily, tiring of making an exposition dump to the same bunch of lumpen fools he'd explained it to nine times previously during the course of the evening.
'About those.' Captain Mansfield interjected.
'Yes' Lewis couldn't quite suppress the note of irritation in his voice.
'I've had some more thoughts about the wording you proposed'
'I thought you might have... care for another tot of rum?' Lewis replied smoothly, whilst attempting his most winning smile - it was a grin that would frighten small children and unsettle the vulnerable in society.
Walter Poldark
Captain-General of the Maritime Free Republic [Jingdao]
Reputable Licensed Trader

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Naian the Evergreen
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Re: Summoning of the Wolfpacks

Post by Naian the Evergreen »

Captain Gordon of the flotilla flagship NDS Ziegeland was serving as fleet commander of the 1st Exploratory Group. The group was on full readiness but under orders to remain neutral and make no hostile maneuvers. Reports came in hourly updating them on the movements of their allies in the Captive Sea and Sea of Storms.

The Ziegeland and the Robland had launched their fighters and bombers to patrol the sky and survey the common trade routes between Eura and the Skerries. The Watery Grave was covering the underside of the flotilla since initial reports from Talenore indicated heavy submarine use, possibly several.

Rumors in the mess hall were running rampant as very little official news had been released regarding these attacks. Many believed they were at least tangentially related to Ergonia, either as a surveillance force that was cut loose from Ergonc when discovered, or as some sort of false-flag attack, or even as a "long con" to fool the nations of Micras. During the lunch hour of the day shift, officers' phones began to buzz with a MNN Breaking News story: "Ergonia disbands itself."

Capt. Gordon entered the mess hall, which was filled with the din of confused and heated conspiracies becoming increasingly unfounded, to address the growing rabble, "Listen hear now, the fate of the Realm of Ergonia is no longer central to this mission, it has already been tentatively proven that these rogue raiders are acting alone now, whether or not they started from Ergonia doesn't matter anymore. We still have hostiles in these seas and we need to ensure nothing touches our interests or our allies' interests."
Naian

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Lord Erion
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Re: Summoning of the Wolfpacks

Post by Lord Erion »

The Ship's Chaplain, the Very Reverend Henry Hergon, agreed.

"We must all pray to the Spirit of Bous, and invoke His Divine Protection over the humble lives of our crew, His most devoted Servants," he uttered reverently.

Captain Gordon responded, "Indeed we should, and indeed we shall," and issued the order to the entire Imperial flotilla, and so one thousand souls simultaneously prayed to the Butter Spirit.

After an appropriate time, the Very Reverend Henry Hergon then spoke, "Our devotions are done, and we must now leave this area, to allow the will of Bous to be done", and the Captain gave the order, and within the half-hour, the Imperial flotilla was safely in the lee of the Lighthouse, and not a moment too soon.

For in the part of the ocean that they had vacated something started to gradually change. The sea became the colour of butter, and the sky the colour of milk. And then the two met, and in the middle appeared a sight to behold, should anyone have foolishly dared to. The crews of the rogue flotilla, caught completely unawares, could only gape as the waterspout descended upon them.

A while later, the only sign that anything odd may have happened was a small patch of flotsam floating in an otherwise calm azure sea. A lone Straylight dolphin, having watched from a safe distance, concluded that there was nothing more to see, and turned with a flip of its tail, heading westwards towards the crimson sunset.
His Imperial Highness Erion of Waffel-Paine,
Prince of Natopia, Prince of Arboria, Duke of New Aquitane, and of the Punkrock Isles, Count of Nerklaa, Count of Augustus, Lord am Baat, Baron Mirkdale, Representative in Frenzy for Arboria, Knight of the Order of the Black Hole, Awardee of the Regent's Medal, MNN.

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Captain Poldark
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Re: Summoning of the Wolfpacks

Post by Captain Poldark »

An Hour Later

'So, explain to me why there is a harpooned dolphin on my deck.' muttered a mildly bemused Commander Lewis as he faced the crowd of inappropriately awed seamen gathered before him. The blood of the skewered porpoise congealing in a pool of foam and froth addled vileness at his feet caused him to tentatively essay stepping his right-foot back before a fear of losing face stayed him and held him rigid where he stood.
'A Straylight Dolphin' interjected a lad by the name of Eldricht Jenkins, trying to be helpful.
'A Straylight Dolphin... and that makes a difference how exactly?' the Commander inquired.
'Well, its like that there sea spout that occurred immediately beforehand you see?' Jenkins replied earnestly, to which Lewis shrugged his shoulders and replied dismissively; 'No, I'm afraid that I really don't. Could you try being more specific.'
'It's like an omen, Sir.'
'An omen? A water funnel and a dolphin constitute an omen? Good God what is wrong with you people? Have you all been drinking the same water as the Captain?'
'But the sea churned as though it were butter.' Added Able Seamen Abel, his voice tremulous with dread.'
'It was butter... churned butter... the whole sea.' Jenkins replied, his face suddenly transfixed with the horror of the memory he recalled. Lewis was at the end of his tether.
'Damned stuff and nonsense. Look at the water now, go on, look at it. Do you see any dairy produce lapping at our bow? It's just salty H2O out there, an entire bloody ocean of the stuff. Now all of you, back to your duties - except you two; Abel, Jenkins. If you can't explain in remotely human terms why you had to launch a harpoon into some poor defenseless dolphin then you've both earned the privilege of carving it into steaks... and salting it into barrels. Perhaps then you'll remember better to stick to your duties and not give in to ignorant superstitions. And another thing that damned albatross is beginning to annoy me.'
Without another word Lewis pull a revolver from his trouser belt and took aim at the over-sized gull sitting smugly atop one of the cargo winches and fired. The bird fell to the deck with a squawk and a flurry of downy white feathers.

An appalled hush fell over the gathered assembly of sailors. Jenkins however decided to keep his own counsel on the matter.
Walter Poldark
Captain-General of the Maritime Free Republic [Jingdao]
Reputable Licensed Trader

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