“Prepare!” Olioorins voice echoed through the stillness. Benjamin hoped that the extra hour he had bargained for would bear fruit. Still, it would be a hell of a thing if even one of the hastily instructed seamen would be capable of more than one shot from the wildly overbuilt and cumbersome Arquebus that were confiscated from his initial fight. He was again, to lead men on the ground, and he was missing a key player. Vailin was a valuable mind and blade on the battlefield, but she was still with the healers. The Matchlocks muskets the pirates employed fired a lead ball almost an inch in diameter, but Ben’s inspection of their powder revealed it to be much weaker than the formula he had chosen. Their foe had yet to learn how to properly bind the components together, and relied on a dry mixing from his human history had proved to be a dangerous first stage. He still had ample projectiles for these crude weapons but had to cut the powder charge in half to keep them safe for use with his formula. Most of the last two hours were spent with him rigging up a basic cartridge for them, but that still did not solve the main problem. The enemy’s weak powder saved Vailin’s life as the massive musket ball struck her directly in the breastplate Benjamin had repaired for her… It had caved in the armor, snapping her sternum and shattering 4 ribs, but saving her life. Her road to recovery would be a long one.

They were much too heavy to be used in mobile combat with any being less than a warrior-class Orc. So he improvised. Now came the second problem… Viola was out of action, her arm too badly ruined to be quickly healed… Valtrya, on the other hand, refused to stay at her sister's side. It would normally be a cold-blooded decision, but Benjamin suspected there was some shared soul funny business going on there. Either way, Val was bound to his hip, having replaced her shield and spear with a bayonetted musket and both sisters’ pistols. As much as he wanted to complain, it was the right choice. Violence of fire was to win the afternoon here… “On My lead!” Benjamin bellowed, looking back at his truncated group. Veirin was aiding the healers, and both Aquilar seamen injured in the fighting were still fighting for their lives. Vailins metal armor may have saved her, but their boiled leather seaman’s cuirass had done less than nothing to stop the massive musket balls from ripping their insides violently asunder. He was down to himself, Val, and the surviving Aquilar who positively beamed at this new opportunity for vengeance.

Ruuigriloo hurtled toward shoreline under all sail, and Benjamin was just beginning to question the seamanship of the captain when the call came in their tongue from the aftercastle. In one seemingly smooth motion, the Port side Oars were withdrawn from their ports, the sail was struck, and the helm slammed hard a starboard. The Aquilar vessel heeled wildly to the violent maneuver before coming to rest with her Port side Deck rails to the shore. Moments later, Benjamins worst fears were realized, as a pair of stubby iron cannons on wodden carriages were wheeled out from behind a building… and fired.

Both cannon’s shots slammed into Ruuigriloo’s flanks. The round shot itself was only a secondary danger, punching through the hull and cutting two crewmen in half before bouncing off the far hull planking, taking the legs of another crewman each, and rolling to a stop against a bulkhead. The real danger with naval cannon warfare… was the splinters. Over two dozen wooden shards from each impact splayed out in a wide cone of jagged carnage that killed 8 Seamen instantly, ripping them bodily asunder, and often continuing into another poor victim. 15 more were maimed in various severities. Ruuigriloo snapped his gaze to Benjamin in both horror and memory before that same face hardened and he squared his chest toward the shoreline, “FIRE!”

Three brass cannons, loaded with grapeshot, spoke as one… and the Aquilar captain visibly took a single step back at the resulting holocaust. Benjamin’s carriages included a very basic elevation system. Where a thick wooden wedge was placed under the barrel at different levels to control the position of the barrel vertically. It was simple, crude, but effective enough. More importantly, it gave Ruuigriloo’s cannons the ability to shoot DOWN at a target below her waterline. The survivors of the peninsula fight had been given time to return to their base to face them, and roughly 30 were standing before them when Ruuigriloo fired the first true broadside volley in this Globes Naval history… when the smoke cleared, 5 of them simply ceased to exist, save the occasional arm, leg, or head. 8 more were missing said arms or legs or had gaping holes blown through the sides of their bodies with a glancing blow. “Muskets! FIRE!” Benjamin had not seen the captain's reaction and reacted to the next stage of the plan. 15 Arquebus style muskets thudded their low thumping tone, accented with the louder boom of 3 percussion muskets loaded with buck and ball. 4 of the 16 survivors of the cannon volley lived to retreat into the buildings.

Benjamin dropped the empty musket, reaching for the loaded one leaning next to him. Sadly, he had spares. The thought was pushed from his mind, “UP and IN!” He shouted, to the roaring approval of the men behind him. He and his gun-trained group were at the center of the attack, but they were not alone. 15 Aquilar naval Warriors vaulted the deck rails with him and charged. The fight was as brutal as it was quick. Aquilar seamen may not have been comfortable fighting a land battle, but close-quarters combat on a warship was their bread and butter. Benjamin found himself in awe of the sheer efficiency of their movements in the tight quarters of half-finished alley ways, and dilapidated structures. A familiar explosive thud punched him from his left, and he turned to see the smoke clearing before Val’s musket and two more Pirates lying dead in an alley, a small point of pride swelled, when he saw her sling the weapon over her shoulder and choose to draw her pair of pistols. “ right!” she yelled, breaking his thoughts. He spun, indexing on a orc that was charging them from less than 15 yards. Three sharp cracks rang out, and Ben realized that Val had managed to get two hits upon the target just as he himself had pulled the trigger on his rifle. He took a deep calming breath, “let's move”.

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“Get up. Time to die.” The harsh sneering voice echoed in the damp darkness. He had never seen his capturer, he always wore a long cloak and black leather gauntlets. Those same gauntlets grabbed him by the back of the throat. He knew his captor was smaller than he, but the months of starvation and torture by larger beings had sapped his strength… and his will. It would not have mattered, as a heavy green hand landed in his gut, serving to both double him over in agony and remind him that his captor was never alone. The two Orc bodyguards dragged his limp-heaving body down the familiar dingy corridor, but to his surprise, he found himself outside…

The familiar sounds of men screaming and dying echoed around him as he was dragged physically toward the treeline. ‘fighting… have they found me? Will they find me… I must… I mus…” A second heavy hand seemed to read his mind, nearly removing his mind from the conscious realms of men, but he managed to remain awake. ‘No… I will not go silently… like last time…’

In a final surge of energy, He broke free of one Orc, spinning with the only weapons he had available to him and sinking his sharp teeth into the throat of the second. A quick crunch and rip removed the Orc’s windpipe from him, and He caught the heavy axe as the bodyguard fell. With a heave, he threw it, not at the second Orc.. but at his tormentor who was clearly to amused at the situation to react properly. He dodged the throw barely in time, but a cry of pain and anger proved his aim almost good enough. The heavy hood was torn away, and He took two steps back in abject terror, “No… It can't be… You… You can't exist!”

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Blood red eyes, and main of golden locks fell into the light, and a solid flow of red betrayed that he had marked his captive. “a clever little puke,” was all he said before he lunged to the left, dodging the surviving Orcs wild attack. “DEMON!” the Orc bellowed but two quick slashes from a slender blade severed the ligaments in the warrior's legs, “Yes” was all the H’mure said before driving his fangs into the Orcs throat. He threw the massive green Pirate aside, not even bothering to acknowledge the searing enraged roars of a dead man raging against the venom killing him. “Hmmm, It’s been centuries since I’ve gotten to do that.. I might have used a bit much.. No matter, I’ve been dying to try this out.” He pulled a bulky item from his cloak, it had a single curved wooden handle with a strange lever attached to the side, the abomination opened a small port on the side of a long black iron rod and poured strange powder into it as his captive continued to shrink back, “You’re a monster!!! What do you claim to start with this!!”

The H’mure snapped his fingers against the wick on the end of the small lever, and it glowed sinisterly at him. “A war..” was all he said before pointing the thing at him. “I wish to start a…. “ an explosion seared his ears, and his sight was blinded by splattering red, but not before he witnessed the H’mure’s head detonate in some kind of majikle explosion.

He pawed at his eyes for a moment before a new voice spoke, “Lord Hirak, I presume.” Hirak froze at the use of his name for the first time in recent memory, opening his eyes to see a strange pale being in front of him. He began to shrink back a second time at the skin color before noticing the green eyes and dark hair. An Aquilar seamen wearing Ascendency colors stood next to him scanning the area with a strange bulky lance, and a slender, possibly gorgeous by the armor, helmeted being reached a hand to him after slipping one of her strange weapons into a leather pouch, “Come, my Lord.” The sweet voice seemed to melt his fear. He stood with the help of the surprisingly strong woman and turned to what he only could assume was an Albino Orc by the shape and eyes of him. The being was stepping over to the dead H’mure, absently slipping a strange brass rod into his own weirdly bulky lance. “Another one…”

“Benjamin! We must go! The tide turns!” The Aquilar barked in Orcish. “Right, Let’s move.” With that, the four departed, Hirak being supported by the Aquilar seamen as they surged through the carnage. A straggling pirate stepped out from behind a building, missing one arm, but still wielding a saber in his other. He roared a challenge only for the Gloriously clad armored female to reveal that her weapons were not for close-in fighting. She raised them both in stride and each exploded twice in quick succession. Hirak’s ears rang, but his head spun in time to see the same wounded pirate fall with three fresh holes in his chest quickly soaking his armor in green.

Benjamin took a deep breath, “WITHDRAW!!! WITHDRAW!!! RALLY TO THE SHIP!!” He repeated that multiple times as they raced through the burning remnants of the encampment. Moments later, Hirak’s soul sang as he rounded the final corner to find one of his vessels sitting next to the shore with crewmen ashore in a defensive line. More seamen boiled out of the compound in full sprint back to the ship, “Go!” The Albino bellowed, get on the ship!” he spun, rushing his group past him just as 4 more Pirates rushed from their hiding place. Hirak was transfixed as he watched the Albino raise his own spear only for it to belch the same Firey explosion of the female's weapon. It spoke its fury 6 times before the last of the pirates finally fell, each one writhing from a monstrous hole in their chest or abdomen. Benjamin simply stood, spun on his heels and rushed up the makeshift ramp that had been constructed after the initial attack. The Captain greeted Olioorin with a curt salute, “My Lord, It is a Miracle to see you… Inside, quickly. We will be underway shortly.” He spun to the railing, “TO THE SALTS LADS!!! WE MAKE FOR OPEN WATER!!”

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Benjamin sprinted up the ramp, the last one aboard. Almost as his feet hit the deck, the boarding ramp was raised, “Away Port Rowmen!” Olioorin barked in his people's tongue. Organized chaos erupted below decks and the massive port oars emerged from their ports. As one each or slammed into the shore and a mighty yell echoed. They had beaten the end of slack tide and Ruuigriloo slipped from the shoreline. “Let fly the mainsail! Rowers on the double time! Helm, make for the Narrows!” the sequence of orders played out, but Benjamin was already headed to the infirmary, to check on his women.

“You live..” Viola gasped; her arm still tightly bound to her body to hold the wound still as it healed. It didn’t stop her from lunging for Benjamin, gripping him tightly before shaking violently in quiet sobs… “All the gunfire… all the screaming… I feared the worst when I couldn’t feel Val anymore.” Benjamin cuddled her close, “I didn’t know your connection was so short-range.” Viola shook her head, “It is not far… I haven’t felt that since….” She shuddered violently and Val rubbed her back as the Aquilar seamen who accompanied them entered the infirmary, he bore a new bleeding scar across his right forearm but he ignored being attended to, “Warrior Benjamin, The Captain wishin’ to see you, immediately if possible.” Benjamin nodded and then was surprised when the Crewman gave him an Ascendency Salute before departing. “I must go. It is done, we are making for the Narrows… We found him.” Viola nodded stiffly, “Go, they will not release me from her yet; and in truth, I could use the rest.” Ben pecked her on the cheek before departing, Val closely behind him.

The walk to the Captain’s quarters was now a familiar one, and the Door guard knocked twice s soon as they arrived, “Enter” Olioorins clear command was followed. Benjamin and Val entered to find the Ascendency heir and the Captain standing over the map. “Ah! The Albino, and… an Aereseen?” He looked her over with confused suspicion until his eyes fell upon the twin pistols still riding on her hip, “You!” Val openly flashed a smile as the Young Monarch sputtered, “This day is doomed to be filled with surprises, Valtrya was it?” She nodded, and he stepped over and taking a small bow facing the two of them, “ Benjamin and Valtrya, I owe you my life… but I also bear ill tidings.. You have secured my temporary freedom… but at the cost of your own.”

Benjamin and Valtrya stepped up to the map as Lord Hirak turned to it. “These Pirates, they no longer have an individual vessel… This group was well organized by what I now know to be the abomination you dispatched when he meant my end. Two of them rival you in displacement Captain… but the Third… The third is like nothing I have ever seen. A titanic monstrosity that proves the antithesis of our entire naval doctrine.. They murdered my vessel… to my shame, I was forced to surrender to them before they set my ship ablaze and bound me. Captain, they were to arrive today. I fear they…”

“SAIL HO!!! MANY SAIL HO!!! TO QUARTERS!” The howling announcement transcended language, and the four quickly rushed to the deck. “glass!” Olioorin ordered, and was handed a bulky spyglass attached to a resting monopod. Benjamin raised an eyebrow at the contraption as Olioorin peered through it. “Thar she be.” he growled in Orcish, “a quarter point to windward.. She has the weather gauge on us, but where are her Oar ports… Oh… Gods and Goddess… Benjamin, you must see.”

Benjamin took the cumbersome device and pointed where directed. The view caused him to blink twice and then refocus the glass upon their enemy. It was true, each of the smaller vessels were Aquilar Longships roughly the same size as Ruuigrilooo, and each of them bore a pair of cannons, one upon the forecastle, and one upon the after castle. A two-on-one fight would undoubtedly be a costly, brutal affair, but the “flagship” Changed everything.. “Shit” the emotion rolled out of him, but surprise was lacking. A quick look from Olioorin told him to follow. Moments later, the four of them returned to the captain's quarters. “Benjamin, You have seen that vessel before,” Olioorin stated. It was not a question.

Benjamin took a big breath, “I.. I have, or I have seen its kind… It is called, a Galleon.” Lord Hirak gave him a sharp glare, “Benjamin, I hope you have an exceedingly excellent reason to be able to Identify that ship, especially considering the company you keep… and the monstrosity that tried to kill me.” Benjamin’s blood froze at the Monarch’s tone, but Valtrya Hissed a challenge before reaching for one handgun. “Peace!” Olioorin shouted, “Both of you, Halt!” he ordered before turning to his Monarch, “Forgive me, Lord Hirak… I dare not command you, but you have been in captivity for a long time… much has changed in that time, I desperately advise patience and understanding before suspicion, and action.” Hirak glared at the captain for a long moment before speaking in a carefully cold tone, “Very well, Captain. Enlighten me.”