drakensis said:
Henry Bolingbrooke was the first to assemble mariners to begin the foundation of the maritime strength of arms that would do so, joined a century later by Henry Tudor and a host of mariners from every corner and every era of the British Isles. As a golden age began among the living, those who died at sea found similar roles in death. On the dictates of the Three Edwards, the Church aided the Two Henry's in finding ways to create ships in a similar manner to the mounts of the Knights, each would-be Captain developing his partnership until the vessel was fit to challenge even the great beasts of the depths, bearing the Knights of the Church and the Crowns out to do battle with their foes...
I read that, and instantly had a visual form...
Right at this moment Captain Jones wanted little more than to fix the oil-skin cap that had replaced his traditional tricorn for the duration of this wild gale, but removing either hand from the ships wheel for something so trivial as to try and stop the Icy drips being channelled down onto on his nose could very easily spell the doom of his Ghost Ship, not to mention all souls aboard.
Before him, leaning against the railing of the quarter-deck, the wizened First-Mate Hab clung for dear life, The elderly man alternating between bellowing orders to the crew, and spitting out curses, both mystic and profane, at their quarry.
As the massive, bone white, whale like leviathan once again broke the surface, it released a spout of breath which, seconds later, rained down on the decks of the ship as a hail of icicles, several narrowly missing both Jones and Hab, whilst some of the crew were not so lucky. Heart beats later (though there was some debate amongst the crew as to if the departed still had them), an almost textbook broadside of shots from the cannons, cannonades, ballista, muskets, rifles, bows and catapults of the Ship tore at the flesh of the demon beast even in such harsh winds.
Like the ship and himself, these weapons were connected intimately to their crews, and the crew were a most chaotic mish-mash of seamen from through out the annals of history, tied together only by the virtue of good, British blood and a life spent at sea. Captain Jones could still remember the first time he had heard his ship speak to him, something which, according to Mr Hab, was quite normal.
Reacting instinctively to the call from his first mate, Jones was pulled out of his momentary lapse in time to throw himself against the wheel, causing the rigging to sing, scream or snap in protest against the pressures put on them by the wind and ship, but also preventing the timbers from shattering under the weight of the Leviathans bodily ram.
With the beast alongside Mr Hab was off, leaping from the quarter deck, his peg clicking against the water soaked boards with each long, confident stride. The sparks thrown up from the edge of his harpoon as it dragged behind him, even in this cold, wet and windy weather, a testament to his speed and power, caused a few cartridges of powder, and a small urn of oil, to ignite. With a final incantation Mr Hab rose his harpoon, a thin bone blade with intricate etchings, over his head, and threw it down into the head of the monster below, punching a hole through its bony faceplate and erupting into flame.
Bellowing in pain, and death, the leviathans spasms, slamming its body against the ship in an unnatural rhythm, countering the natural movement of the ship, and sending many a sailor, Mr Hab included tumbling to the deck, and saving his life as a final spout of ice and frost turned the railings he had been leaning against, and the rigging above his head, into solid, brittle ice.
As the beast dissolved from sight, the gale it had summoned died with it. Moments passed in silence, until Mr Hab rose from the deck, and thrust his harpoon aloft. As a deafening cheer broke out, Captain Davey Jones consulted the compass in the binnacle, and turned The Flying Dutchmen east, back towards England, to report a successful hunt. Funeral for the fallen would be held that evening, for now, they celebrated.
h43r:
