…the Le Vie De Marin bounces gently in the open, deep waters of La Boca De Cielo, the Captain stands atop the quarterdeck looking out over the deep ocean. he waits expectantly for word of his prey, the ship that slipped out of his grasp just two days earlier. his many years as Captain have taught him one thing, patience.
and then his answer comes.
the silvered medal around his neck begins to hum gently, a message is coming. he removes the necklace from under his tunic, the normally shiny mirrored glass surface begins to swirl with a familiar black mist, a device of the proud Porte’ mages of his homeland. he reaches his hand into the object, his arm dissappearing from sight. reaching into some nether space he gropes around until his hand coils around a rolled tube of parchment. he removes his hand and the swirling mist disappears, returning to a silvery sheen.
he unfurls the parchment and reads. a smile crosses his lips.
his prey has been spotted, moving with speed westward on the trade winds to the Purple Towns.
“Prepare the Sails, All hands on deck” he shouts, the trained Montaigneese sailors jump to action. soon the sails are filled and the ship is cutting through the ocean.
“heading Capitan?” say the helmsman
“we make speed for the Fortress of Evening”
the ships wheel is spun to the new heading.
“news of the Boondoggle Capitan?” the first mate says as he climbs the steps to the quarterdeck
“she has been spotted making sail for the Purple Towns. we will make speed there and rendezvous with Le Magnifique. orders are to wait in hiding by the Fortress, when she leaves the island we will follow in behind and have her.” the Captain smailes again, “then we will sink her to the bottom of the sea”
just below the quarterdeck a sailor attends to his work, just out of eyesight but within earshot.
a shout from the bosun “back to work you louse, trim those sheets”
“aye aye” says the Pirate they call Prophet, and he moves onto deck to attend to the bosuns command. a thin smile spreads across his lips…