Tempers Ball

OOC: RP warthread. I made it a pirate-themed one. Use pirate slang, wear an eyepatch, etc. Lets have fun!
Oo..and Boooo to DoC of course.

IC:

The water wobbled, seagulls shreeked seagullic shreeks and now and then a seal was swaffled by a passing blue whale. This harmonious scene of natural balance was disturbed as the keel of the BisMURck slid through that very part of the sea (along with that very seal). Oozing forth from the vessel, was a loud noise, caused by a group of weary sailors flailing about their fishingrods in a disorderly fashion...

"Stop shivering your timbers! It is only an idiom!!"

The noise stopped oozing.

"Arr! Know what was it you were saying mister boatswan!?"

The dwarf looked up at the white waterfowl seated in the crow's nest. The swan was trying to signal something: he held his left wing horizontally just above his eyes and then waved his right wing about, as if to indicate a flat surface.

"I think he's saying 'land', sir!"

The boatswan nodded its head wildly up and down and then started to move his wings about in a most puzzling way, first forming some sort of tube with his left and penetrating that circle with his right and then lifting up both his wings as if in a begging gesture. The men below frowned as the boatswan continued to go through these two gestured time and time again...

"Ah.. I've got it! Its 'Ho', sir. Land Ho!"

" Scuttlebutt! "

" No sir..it's true! "

" Alright! Its time to get these filthy pants-wobbling landlubbers, these disciples of Chaos, pfah! I will call them Sally! Bring forth the Polly's!! "

Porckie's first mate, who was almost pooped by a wave, hobbled away on his peglegs and went down to the ship's nether regions. Porckie raised one of his eyepatches and looked up at the wildly gesturing boatswan, he would certainly take a boatswine on his next journey, he thought. Minutes later, the first mate returned with a great number of colourfull birds.

"Good! Now attached the eyepatches to the parrots and send them to all of the OAFS!"

The first mate obeyed his captain and diligently started tying eyepatches to each of the parrots and then released each and everyone, whispering the name and location of each OAFS-member in the bird's ears.

"Fly, ye homingparrots! We will swaffle their swabs and do a number 2 on their poopdeck!"

*BOINK*

Porckie slapped his forehead, he had forgotten all about his boatswan's wild gesturing, the BisMURck had certainly stranded! Suddenly, however, the dwarf noticed they were still moving! He removed one of his eyepatches and looked over the reiling. Indeed, their ship had not stopped moving. Instead, it had left a trail of agrarian disorder, ran-over badgers and a number of maroons were presently catching up with the ship on foot...

" Ahem.. well..yes...send out the parrots anyway!! Ah well... atleast nobody got scurvy yet.. "

Porckie smiled, while nibbling at his head-worn banana, which had been used to replace the bandana's, which in turn had been employed to substitute the missing underwear....

" So you think we should continue our sailing, sir? "

" Well yes.. we're moving aren't we? "

" That's true sir.. won't they notice us though? A ship sailing on land isn't very..common. "

" Scuttlebutt! When will we arrive in our enemy's lands? "

" With this speed, it should only take us a couple of hours sir.. "

" Yo Ho Ho! About the secret weapons! "

" You mean the.. "

" Yes! The pissing feathery things! "

" I think they prefer to be called excreting organisms sir.. "

" Bring me my urinating plummage at once! Or I will have you swab the deck with your Adam's apple! "

" Allright sir.. BRING FORTH THE TOR-PEE-DODO'S! "

Two buccaneers nodded and wen't down the stairs, to the poop deck. They returned, carrying four pillories, each of which had three birds attached to them. The birds had crooked noses and their 'thingies' were somehow attached to the wooden blocks, not only to the sailor's amusement but also to effectively squeeze out as much juice as painfully possible...

" Very well! You know what to do when you see an enemy? "

The buccaneers nodded, they had learned their instructions by heart. They were to shout 'BOO!' by the first adversarious sight, causing the birds to pee in their pants. But, seeing as the pants were in this case obsolete, this would result in them being highly effective long-range weapons...

" Soup's ready! "

" Ah..Pea-soup.. What better way to ensure ourselves that nobody will be taking the wind out of our sails today? "

OOC: You dare to throw a pirate/sailor theme at me? A pirate and sailor! Haha Ho! A good laugh indeed!

RP:

Caligula leaned close to his knife, staring at his reflection, checking the color of his eyes. Yellow. Scurvy!

Caligula looked at his fingernails, then quickly shoved his hands away and closed his eyes. Not that. Not the scurvy.

Caligula jumped up and opened his captain's door, yelling out to his deckhands.

Bastard girls!

The male sailors answered proudly. Sir!

Wheel one of those barrels of rum over here and bring me my opiu-err- cough syrup. Yes. Make my coffee. And get the damn rum already!

The sailors began rushing about the deck, wheeling the barrel of rum to the captain's quarters and heaving bottles of opium across the deck. Men caught the bottles and tossed them again, until they arrived at the captain's quarters. Caligula stabbed a hole in the keg, tipped, and poured into his stein. The rum came out a bit sloshy, and the metal stein nearly stuck to Caligula's lips, but the rum still burned warm in his belly. Outside on the decks it was dasterdly cold, cold as a winter in valley forge and half the morale. But that's where his men needed to be, getting their asses handed to them by nature and all its fury, in order to completely crush whatever spirits they may have left. It was tradition of course to treat a captain's sailors as poorly as humanly possible. And Caligula ran a ship tighter than his third wife's, grip.

Caligula was just finishing dressing (and the barrel of rum), when a voice rang out on the decks.

Land! Land Ho!

Caligula fastened his belt and rushed out on the deck, holding his hat down tight and clenching his cigar with gritted teeth.

Baton (sp?) down the hatches boys! We're riding this storm right into the enemy's harbor! Let us descend upon them from the fog!

As Caligula stood boldly in the face of the wind and rain, a parrot came swooping out of the fog smacking him in the face. Caligula slipped on ice and fell on the deck, an eyepatch landing on his face. The bird flew away as Caligula studied the patch.

Now why in the world would I need a patch? I have both my eyes?

One of Caligula's men spoke from the portside deck.

Perhaps for peception sir, cover an eye to measure distance. Old sailor trick, sir.

Caligula nodded, took a swig of opium from the bottle, and stabbed himself in the eye. His sailors stepped back aghast. Caligula twisted the blade and gave it a *pop*. The eye spun and popped out like a "ball in a cup." Caligula laughed and placed the eyepatch over his now empty eye socket.

Haha! Of course! The Captain must have only one eye for such a daring landing. The Oafs are genius indeed!

Deep Fast Insertion cut through the ocean at top speeds, slicing through the raging storm. She finally punched through the edge of the storm to the point the Captain could see land.

We're gonna die! Grab your happy socks and locker locks, and lets burn and plunder, if we don't die in this horrific crash!

Deep Fast Insertion made well of its name, plowing through the wooden DoCs of the Leto harbor. Caligula and his men readied themselves for impact as the ship raced for the coast.

On impact with the coast, half of Caligula's men were massively injured due to being below decks and taking large pieces of flying wooden shrapnel puncture wounds. The wound specifically was referred to as FUBARed. Sailors understood the meaning. The lucky ones knew their comrades were boned. They'd stay at the ship and fight off attackers until they were pummeled to death with rocks or ripped apart by mobs. But the lucky ones, they'd burn and loot and rape and pillage all the land they came across past the enemy harbor.

Then, laying on the beach sand just beyond his shattered ship, Caligula thought of an awful problem.

We didn't leave anyone at home to guard the realms! Alas, we are screwed! Screwed like that one time I got a VD from a chinese hooker in the phillipines who refused to let me in, after I had proceeded to knock at the back door!

[OOC - Caligula, I believe the word you were looking for was 'batten' ]

Bleedin' fine time for a storm. I can't see naught but the end of my own nose in this soup, and barely there, at that!

Zathrus stared into the slate grey of the morning, as if just by daring it to get worse, it would give up the goat and pester someone else. He had NO idea why Aria had insisted upon attacking these Fishing Pole People on their own territory. Or whatever they were called. The icy air had dulled his mind a bit. Magic never operated right on the high seas. Something about the tides, surely.

Besides, it had taken him nearly 2 days to stop violently retching from the heaving swell pushed up by this tempest. Zathrus was worried his skin would now be permanently tinged green. He had tried to work up a spell to hide the ship in a dense fog the night before last. Weather was fickle as it was when trying to magick it...and Zathrus feared this storm was the result of his actions.

M'lord Zathrus!

Zathrus cringed inwardly. No matter HOW many times he tried to stop the Captain from calling him that, he would not stop. He took two steps towards the sound of the man's voice, and wound up flat on his back upon the deck. The wind, kindly enough, had caught the sails just right at that moment, and pitched the vessel hard over to port. Or was it the starboard? Either way, it caught Zathrus off guard. He thought he heard the hastily stifled laughs of some of the crew; who were all still upon their feet. He didn't particularly blame them, given the situation, he would probably laugh as well.

Unceremoniously picking himself up off the planking, Zathrus ambled over the heaving deck to where the Captain stood. Zathrus had no idea how the man remained standing without any support whatsoever. Zathrus had to hold on to the railing just to stay marginally upright.

Yes, what is it, Captain Flint?

Sir, we're getting fairly close to our destination. By our estimates, we should be nearing the OAFS' flotilla in short order.

Zathrus stood (wobbled) perplexed.

Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?? Who are you calling an oaf, and what the blazes is a flotilla? It sounds dirty!

Captain Flint gave Zathrus a pained expression.

Sir, a flotilla is a group of armed vessels, smaller than an armada. And I was referring to our intended adversaries. The Order of Almighty Fishingrods. OAFS, sir.

Very good. I will signal the rest of our boats...

Ships, sir. Fleet would be a better word.

This man grated on Zathrus's nerves. Who cared about vocabulary right now? He was getting the point across, wasn't he?

...our FLEET, and ready them for an attack.

"A damn annoyance, that's what they are!" Gerien bellowed to his aide-de-camp. "Cowards, the lot of them. Coming in here burning my buildings and running like the scurvy dogs they are." The aide hastily stepped out of the way of his lord's pacing, unease plain on his face at having brought the latest news of guildhalls being burned by the land-pirates known as OAFS. Indeed, the aide thought, they are oafs, the lot of them.

The war had dragged on for longer than expected. What had started as a sortie into a faithless heathen's single kingdom to increase the size of his own had turned into a full war with a group claiming Gerien's target as one of their own. He wasn't bothered by the possibility that it might even be a true claim; war was war, and when Gerien saw that his priests were useless in securing land from the hefty tithes he was making, he supplanted them with trained soldiers. Soldiers had always accomplished the best work for him in the past, and this endeavor was no different. Even the war turned to his favor, bringing him he opportunity to plunder vast tracts of rich fertile lands near the ocean edges. Gerien had replaced those simple-minded fishermen with vast nets, harvesting raw materials and foodstuffs for his ever growing nation and raising him to the status of prince of the land. But now he found himself trapped, large enough to swat the pests down without a thought, but having to stretch so far that the effort was hardly worth it.

And now, to top it off, he was spending more time cleaning up his lands than acquiring new ones. "Parrots," he muttered to himself. "I shouldn't have to deal with parrots." They'd come swooping in, along with those huge honking bird-like things with the wet plumage befouling his buildings and suffocating his thieves in their perches. Excrement covered his streets, befouling the land and sending many of his peasants packing for other lands. Though Gerien could certainly afford to lose the thieves and the peasants, the buildings were more bothersome. Men were interchangeable but buildings took time to build, and that meant time not spent watching the silly pirates squirm and try to stretch their ridiculous ales while being stretched to new heights on Hatama's dungeon racks. And where was her silly assistant, anyway? That strange little man with the owls. Gerien could barely understand the man half the time; it seemed that no matter what conversation you were having he was having a different one, usually involving his crops and how he enjoyed burning them rather than harvesting them. Still, he was familiar, and the smoke from those crops usually slowed down advancing armies fairly well, or at least made their approach all the more entertaining. Now Gerien would have to find other ways to stop the strange ships sailing toward his lands where no ship should ever be.

"Get me the mistress," called Gerien. "Let her know that we cannot have any more of these shenanigans with heathens." Something had to be done before he ran out of clean boots with which to walk his lands.

OOC: Connecting Caligula's and Zathrus' posts...lets have some interaction (and fun ). Oh..and Zathrus, seeing as your guild is winning the war, you can win the RP-battle too No killing though! Just have us walk the plank or something Oo..and screw off our peglegs!

Down in the poopdeck of the BisMURck, Porckie sat, pondering over a bowl of peasoup. Things had gone splendidly! Propelled by their own gusts of winds, his pirateship had traversed the lands of the Disciples of Chaos. Much to his surprise, he immediately noticed that their lands were devoid of temples and sorcerors. As a result, there was no need to rely on his tor-pee-dodo's alone. No! His floppy magic poker, which normally was of no other use than to give himself a tingly feeling, could now be applied to lay waste to the realms of the enemy. He did not give much thought to the reason why these realms were so magicless, assuming that one of his guildmates was responsible...

"Sir! The latest warnews!"

"Ah good! Give me the news, how are the others faring? "

"Not very good, my liege! Apparently, most of our realms have been beat into a pulp. "

"How about our own lands? The lands of MUR?"

"Much the same, my lord. Some of the OAFS remain diligent in their resistance and, despite the utter smallness of their realms, they were able to use powerful rodmagic to decimate some of DoC's greater realms."

" Ah..give me those scrolls. I want to analyse these myself.... Ahh...I see...there is one kingdom here that still stands! It must be the same kingdom responsible for burning all DoC's temples! Remind me to send him some herrings and a brand new floater!"

" Ah..sir. Something very peculiar is going on with this kingdom. We've send many a scribe to these lands but they always return empty handed and say that the lands are smothered in leaflets of some sort."

" Leaflets? What sort of leaflets?"

The boatswain handed Porckie a bunch of parchment tied together with string. On the cover, there was an illustration of a woman wearing nothing but underpants and a small piece of cloth covering her wobbly bits. She was apparently at the waterside, lying down on what appeared to be ahuge towel.

"Ooh..naughty magazines! But..hello..what is this? The accompanying text is hardly arousing! Come to our luxury resort...no pets allowed... What? No petting amongst those fine girls? ...come to our restaurant, get your third course for half the prize...Hello? courses? Is this some sort of school?..odd."

"EEEEEEEE!!"

Porckie dropped the bundle of parchment and went to the upperdeck to see what or who had caused that eery noise. As he walked out onto the deck, he saw that everyone was looking up at the crow's nest....

"EEEEEEE!!"

The boatswan had been replaced by a boatswine and, presently, the hog was running around the crow's nest, screaming at the top of its lungs.

" What's he saying? "

"We don't know sir, but he's been pointing in that direction. "

Porckie followed the finger of the boatswain and looked out over the open sea. He immediatly saw two flotilla's, the one chasing the other.

" Hand me my spyglass! Thank you! Lets have a look...now the chasing flotilla waves the flag of DoC...the chased flotilla seems to be waving our banner! Wait..wait..i see...that is Caligula's ship!"

" How do you know sir? "

"There is a horse at the helm. Come on men! lets get this ship back in the water and save our fellow OAFS!"

The steering wheel was turned and the ship followed suit. Within minutes, their ship had re-entered the open sea and was rapidly approaching the DoC-ship. As they neared, Porckie recognised one of the enemy-ship's sailors.

"Why, it is master Zathrus! Harr, harr! We will have him walk our plant! Boatswain! ready our boarding birds and make sure the cactus is ready, in case we win!"

As the BisMURck sailed alongside Zathrus' boat..err ship, the boatswain ran on deck with another box filled with birds. This time he reached out and grabbed a number of woodpeckers, which had a long rope tied to their tails. The boatswain then began to throw the birds at Zathrus' ship and, as the woodpeckers reached the enemy boat, they immediatly started picking away at the wood and getting their little beaks stuck firmly into the boat's planks. Immediately after that, Porckie's fishermen pulled the ropes straight and made themselves ready to board the enemy ship.

"Yo-ho-ho!"