Dead Star Dockyards

"I see three vessels." A collection of people were gathered on the rear of the galley, the higher status and more combat capable individuals at the very edge to give them the best view. "There could be more behind them, but at this distance its hard to tell."

"Should we surrender and hope for amenable terms?" One of the sailors did not appear to appreciate the odds of a three on one fight.

"No. Even if we can purchase passage with her ladyship's dowry, the humiliation would not be something we can stomach." The captain of the ship dismissed the notion without delay. "Can we dump anything to increase our speed?"

"I doubt it would help, captain." The helmsman responded just as Len arrived, slightly breathy after lugging his pile lance up two sets of steep stairs in a hurry. "Those galleys look like pursuit patterns, not a difference we can make up with a little bit of weight."

"So then we must prepare to engage them ourselves . . . gods damn it." The captain slammed his fist on the rail. "Where is Lady Losiram?"

"I am here, captain." Losiram ascended the stairs in a state she wouldn't have presented herself in outside of an emergency, nightgown covered only by a light overcoat and without her eyepatch. "What is the situation?"

"Three pirate ships, possibly more, are in pursuit. We don't think we can outrun them, and it isn't likely that we can keep them at distance before reaching the nearest planet or jump point. Our options are to surrender or fight."

"How long until they reach us?"

"It is difficult to tell at this distance, but half an hour at most and no shorter than ten minutes."

"I see." Losiram closed her eye whilst rubbing the edge her empty socket. Those present made an effort to avoid looking at it, Len included. "Everyone who can fight should prepare to do so. I will attempt to negotiate passage."

"With what? You aren't suggesting we trade your dowry for passage, are you?"

"If that is what is necessary to survive, then yes. It means little if I am not alive to be wed, and I believe Arrewiz would prefer it sacrificed than my body sullied." She made for the stairs once more. "I will rejoin you shortly."

- - - - -

Len's brain rushed with thoughts and concerns. Panic, prevalent in many around him, was not among the flow. He was jittery, perhaps a little unsure of what his focus should be, but he wasn't losing control of his mental faculties in the face of impending danger. No, Len was watching the galleys close and trying to determine how to get out of this situation alive - how to win. The natural way of going about this, at least in Len's mind, was to imagine how Donovan might solve this issue.

He wasn't concerned with honor, glory, or politics, elements that might impede the decision making of other role models like his father and brother. Instead, Donovan was focused on finding the most efficient and effective method of securing a victory. So that was what Len needed to do - find victory. Easier said than done, obviously, but that was why his brain was working double time.

The first point of thought was to determine what victory meant and what set of conditions would lead to that outcome - his so called 'win conditions'. This much was simple, their ship needed to get away, so the pirates either needed to be rendered incapable of pursuit or made to think the treasure isn't worth it. This in turn implied the worst case scenario - needing to slaughter all the pirates - wasn't likely to happen.

So long as they got rid of enough pirates they would struggle to control their ships - but that worked both ways. That was the first set of plausible victory conditions - reduce the number of pirate crewmen while preserving his own. The second was a less conventional method - damaging their ships such that pursuit was impossible. This left the final condition of not having any pirates on their ship capable of fighting, for obvious reasons.

Those were easy enough to establish, but Len had absolutely no idea how to plan around them. Which should he prioritize? What were his options to achieve these objectives? How much of a difference in skill existed between them and the pirates? Sure, this was noble vessel and it likely had a larger crew complement so they would have the advantage in both quality and combatants per ship, but there were three pirate galleys and their capabilities in hand to hand combat were as yet unknown.

This known, there was at least one advantage Len was almost certain of.

"Um, sorry to intrude, but what sorts of combat sorcery can you use?" A Split Sorcerer. Terrifying opponents capable of shaping a battlefield to their will, Len's spars with Sanna made him aware of just how much of a pain dealing with one could be.

"Nothing I'd be comfortable using on a ship, I'm afraid." The chef still stood by one of the masts with a staff in hand. When your options are fight or die, you get comfortable taking risks. "If they don't break the deck or start a fire, they'll poke holes in the sails or cut ropes - none of which are conducive to continued operation of the vessel."

"T-that's perfect, actually." Nothing about his victory conditions said he needed to board their vessels to slow them down. If their progress towards the ship could be retarded through other means they could buy themselves time, force them to board in sequence rather than simultaneously, or even drive them off entirely fearing further damage. "Can you cast them towards an enemy at range?"

- - - - -

"Are we certain this plan will work, Lady Losiram?" Losiram, the captain of the ship, the chef, and Len stood at the rear of the ship with a few of her guards. In the time it took her to change into battle attire the pirates had closed enough to make out people moving about on deck. One in particular stood out, literally. He posed proudly on the bow of his vessel, bright red pants and baby blue tunic popping out against the deep purple of the cape billowing out behind him.

"Do you have a better one?" The captain shook his head. They didn't have many options to begin with, even if this gambit of Len's failed they wouldn't be losing much. "Then we will proceed as discussed."

A silence descended upon them as the ships grew closer. Fortunately there were only three, arranged in a diagonal from top-right to bottom-left from Len's point of view. If Len understood boarding tactics correctly, they ships to either side would deploy gangplanks and have their men jump down onto either deck while the one in the center would close in from the rear and board on foot. The threat of three landing points - top deck, keel deck and aft - would force the assaulted ship to make a decision on where and how to defend. Leaving either of the decks undefended would forfeit access to the bowels of the ship and control of the masts on said deck while leaving the aft exposed would grant them immediate access to the helm.

It was a dangerous triple threat that limited the evasive maneuvers of the assaulted ship while providing the initiative to your own men. If it looked like the vessel being boarded had focused its defenders in a specific location, they could wait to make the jump until the defenders dispersed to take care of more pressing threats.

"Greetings." Losiram shouted towards the lead ship once it closed enough to merge atmospheres.

"Salutations." A confirmation she was heard, though the tone was dripping with sarcasm. Len could vaguely make out a scimitar strapped to his hip.

"My name is Losiram, and I am on my way to be wedded to Lord Arrewiz, son of the Great General Arrelois. Might I ask why you've elected to pursue us?"

"Hah, marriage. A pitiful excuse. I considered mercy for such a beautiful vessel, but now I feel you undeserving. Prepare yourself, I've been wanting a fight."

"Will there be no negotiation?"

"I've made my decision." He drew his weapon. It was a scimitar for sure, if a bit thin. Such a weapon characteristic wasn't uncommon for those who wanted to make themselves that little bit faster in a duel, knowledge which only furthered Len's nervousness. "To arms, men!"

A cry from the bodies milling about this gaudy individuals deck was shortly echoed by similar cries from the other ships. Len and the others took that as their key to assume battle positions.

- - - - -

Having the direction of gravity shift was weird to experience, but it was a necessary step to reach his battleground. Len's pile lance wasn't suited to galley-borne combat, there were too many bits and bobs that he could hit with the wide sweeping motions his weapon required, but the keel deck at least lacked a guard wall around it. The planks were also thicker down here because it was expected to bear the brunt of water landings and the occasional beaching, making it less likely to be fractured if he ended up slamming the weapon downwards. If it did though . . . well, best not slam the pile lance.

"GRAAAAAAHAHAHAAA!!!" The first pirate to try his luck descended upon the deck, slamming into the planks closer to the aft. If it was a single ship boarding there would have been more than enough people to cover all landing spots, but split between landing points he was allowed to gather his bearing before the nearest crewman could impale him with a sword. Fortunately he was dispatched with relative swiftness thanks to a swordsman nearby, one of Losiram's guards, but in that time three more had made landfall in various locations around the ship.

Len himself dashed as fast as his lance would allow to intercept a descending pirate, impaling the bastard up through the stomach and into the ribcage while handily dodging the counter slash thanks to his range advantage. An airborne enemy with a clear trajectory was a sitting duck even with an unwieldy weapon like this. The only difficulty was extricating it from the body. Because he fell onto it with a degree of speed his inertia pushed him down to where Len's hands were, below the weapon's center of mass. A second or two of struggling revealed the best method to clear the body was to let go and pull the lance the rest of the way through. The body already had a gaping hole the diameter of the lance, so there wasn't much resistance extricating it. The only issue was the blood and guts smeared along its length.

"RAH!!!" Len pushed his pile lance out in front of him, hands wide apart to keep them out of the way, and let the mass of the lance absorb the pirate's wild swing. As expected it bounced off, leaving the swashbuckler momentarily confused before Len pushed the upward tip of the lance forward, piercing his throat then ripping it open with a sidewards pull. Two down in thirty seconds. Inexperienced opponents though they might be, they were still Len's first real kills.

Len took a moment to catch his breath, analyzing the situation to best select his next target. From the looks of it all of the pirates' boarding crew had landed, a fifth of which seemed to have been dispatched, but Len's companions were outnumbered two to one and already taking casualties. The only saving grace was the gap in combat experience.

WHAM

Len took a few steps and performed a wide swing to the back of a pirate engaging a nearby sailor, knocking the wind out of him and generating a satisfying crunch suggesting broken ribs and shattered vertebrae. A swift thrust from the sailor sealed his fate, Len continuing his run to the next closest pirate without acknowledging the thanks of the sailor in question.

Tossing himself at the next unaware enemy with a thrust, Len barely made it in time to prevent another sailor from getting slashed across the back. A grazing slice to the hip was enough to make him flinch though, so Len could only grit his teeth as the pirate the sailor had been focused on swatted away his sword before running his own blade through the sailor's stomach. At the very least the sailor remained coherent enough in his final moments to bring his sword into his killer's neck.

"Behind you!" Len rolled himself about his lance, barely blocking a vicious horizontal slash before it made contact with his neck. He failed to completely halt the assault, his late reaction allowing a small incision on his shoulder, but his assailant was rapidly dispatched by one of Losiram's guards. "Follow me."

Spared a debilitating blow, Len accompanied his senior to the aid of two other sailors before joining with a group of victorious and otherwise lucky duelists. Almost instinctively they formed something of a front line, advancing from bow to stern while taking on enemies two on one where possible. To this end, Len was incredibly effective as a partner.

Against swordsmen at a similar or lesser speed to his own, his pile lance offered a massive advantage. If they tried slashing he could rely upon the mass of the weapon to safely absorb their attack, then counter with one of the tips while closing to deny them the opportunity to create distance to strike again. If they tried stabbing he could point one of the tips out towards them and walk his body back. When they attempted to circumvent the tip to get in range he need only move to the other side and disengage, resetting the position to neutral. During a solo duel he needed to match the speed of his opponent to make these tactics work, but if he had a partner to take advantage of the openings after blunted slashes and out spaced stabs he could deal with someone much faster than himself.

This wasn't entirely necessary given the caliber of opponent he faced today, however the assistance was very much welcome. Every opportunity to lessen the danger to his person was one he would take, a mindset which was further reinforced when the fighting ended.

A quick count of corpses revealed seven or eight of his companions to have perished in the fight with as many injured. In his rush he didn't count the exact number of pirates dispatched, but he estimated about thirty or so lay deceased in various states of dismemberment on the keel boards, slickening the surface with their gradually draining wounds. For a defending force of only twenty, Len thought this a terrific showing.

"Sir Len."

"Yes sir." Len saluted the guard who saved his life with his callout, internally lamenting the gash in his right forearm. He probably wouldn't be able to contribute to further combat. In fact, Len was probably the only one still in any condition to fight. Injuries aside, they were all too winded to be effective.

"We will stay here and fend off further boarding attempts. Please assist Lady Losiram."

"Yes sir!" Len's focus shifted from the injured to the masts and sails poking out over the stern. He couldn't see the hull of the vessel, but if the sails were this close then the top deck was certain to be engaged in a vicious melee.