Battle of Salatic Strait

A calm morning greeted the gathered ships of the Malatic fleet. The freshening breeze, redolent of salt water, filled their sails and pushed the fleet at a steady four knots. On the decks of the ships, the bellow of sailors and officers filled the air, while the steady slapping and groaning of taut rope provided an underscore to the words. Admiral Kensig was in overall command of the fleet. A tough, battle hardened satyr of the noble line, he had seen several actions before. It was said that his ship was one of only six of a fleet of four hundred that had engaged the pirate king's savage fleet to return. His calm eye surveyed the bustling deck of his flagship Fate. All seemed to be in order.

"Masts ho!" shouted the lookout. Everyone eye turned towards the bow in excitement and fear. Kensig grabbed his telescope and extended it. Peering through, he spotted the Fordic fleet drawn in two lines across the mouth of the strait. There was no way in but through. He lowered the eyeglass and considered his options. Landing elsewhere was out, the high cliffs of the surrounding country extended for miles in either direction, which would wear out the army the big troop transports were carrying. He had plenty of smaller fighting ships however, nearly one hundred and sixty vessels were in decent fighting shape. The big troop ships carried centaur cavalry, human infantry and siege weapons to soften landing zones. However, they could be used to bombard the Fordic fleet while his actual fighting vessels dispersed the enemy fleet. His forces included elvish archers. Arguably the finest in the world, they could shoot an arrow more than a hundred yards through armor.

His decision made, he began ordering the elvish archers up to the fighting platforms above. There they could rain death down on the enemy while his sailors fought.   "Signal the fleet," he barked to his signalman, a young human of fifteen years. "Order the troop transports to stand back and be ready to engage targets of opportunity. The fighting vessels must form three waves, with the largest ships leading the first wave. That includes the Sonita, Perloca, Forgut, Farragut, Melocha, Techonra, Falsia…, he rattled off a dozen more names. The signalman began gesturing with his flags.

Ponderously, the fleet began to form up. The sun had risen to its halfway point before they were ready to assail the fleet. However, Kensig had used the time to observe the enemy fleet. He noticed that the ships had been chained together to make them impassable to any ship. However, they had been held together too long, and the ships had fouled the line and been caught themselves. It likened to a spider caught in its own web. Once strong and agile, now helpless. The time was with him, and he would be a fool indeed not to take it. "Order the first wave to advance. The second wave is to follow after they see us make initial contact, and the third thirty minutes after." He commanded. The signalman gave the signal, and the first wave sailed forward. Consisting of the largest ships he had, they majestically led the way to the Fordic fleet.

As his ships drew nearer, he was startled to hear the snap of bowstrings from his fighting mast. He judged the distance to be almost two hundred yards. "Tell those fools to stop wasting arrows!" he barked to a seaman. "Wait until we are within range!" The man scurried off and shimmied up the mast to the fighting platform like a weasel. There were no more flights of arrows.

He reexamined the Fordic lines. The ships were frantically trying to maintain position, but the strong current in the strait, plus the chain holding the ships together, had put the fleet in serious disarray. He shook his head in disbelief. Whoever was in charge over there clearly had no idea how fleet actions should be fought. They had tried arranging ships as if they were simply large infantry, which plainly didn't work. The chain had been a good idea, if there was no current. Otherwise, it was more of a hindrance than a help. Oh, well. You can't help stupid. He reasoned. He intended to take full advantage of his enemy's foolish mistake.

His ship was nearly within forty yards of the nearest Fordic ship when he heard the thump of arrows against the hull. The ship he was facing was a smaller merchantman that had been impressed into service, and was clearly ensnared by the chain it was tied to. He gave the order everyone had been waiting for. "Fire!" Archers from above shot bolts down on the enemy ship. Screams and the cries of pain attested to their accuracy. As his ship drew near, he ordered tar brought up from below and lit. The highly flammable liquid was brought up in buckets and set ablaze. When his ship was next to the smaller craft, he had the buckets of flaming pitch tossed onto the enemy deck. Almost immediately, the ship was caught afire. The merchant sailors, untrained and undisciplined, jumped overboard as the deck of the ship burned. His ship passed the flaming ship without incident, and he turned to the ship of the second wave in front of him.

The ships of the second line were in better order than the front line. They were still in disarray from the long wait, but accuracy of the fire from the Fordic ship was better than the ones he had faced. Sailors on his deck howled in pain as bolts buried themselves in arms and legs or guts. Others simply slumped over, dead. Their bodies were tossed overboard unceremoniously to make room. Sailors waved cutlasses and harpoons at the Fords on the other ship. Kensig barked, "Board them!" and sailors rushed to grab grappling lines.

Grappling lines flew between the ships as both ships ensnared the other. The elvish archers continued to rain arrows down on the enemy while the archers from the Fordic lines, mostly satyrs and humans, fired down on his people. Sailors swung across the gap between ships while planks thudded on the other ships. Sailors rushed across to the Fordic ship, officers and seamen alike. The action degenerated into hand to hand combat. Kensig pulled out his cutlass. He had given up control of his fleet. Now, it was whatever the winds of fate decided that would prove whether he had won this day or not. Admiral Kensig charged across the boarding plank with a rush of seamen, bellowing his battlecry and waving his cutlass.

A snarling sailor swung his harpoon at him, attempting to block. Kensig sliced the pole in half and then stabbed the sailor in the chest. He fell at his hooves. Rushing forward, Kensig found himself facing an officer of the Fordic ship. Judging from his coat, Kensig would wager the first officer. He was a massive human, easily topping Kensig by a full head. His body was wide and heavily muscled. Kensig looked like a child next to the giant.

"You must be the admiral." The man rumbled in a deep voice. "Aye." Kensig agreed, warily eyeing the giant. Around them the battle was at full frenzy as people fought and died. "You appear to have carried the day." The man stated calmly, as if he and Kensig were idly talking over tea rather than about fight. "I never should have allowed this folly to continue this long." The man said. Kensig felt a stir of surprise. Why would a first officer say something like that? He had no say in how a ship would be run. The man spotted his confusion and chuckled. "I am…was, rather, Admiral Hawk of the Fordic navy." Kensig looked at the man in disbelief. "Count Evermire took command of my fleet and stripped me of my rank. Called me a fool and ordered the fleet to blockade the mouth rather than meet you on open sea. If I had been in command you wouldn't have made it this far." Kensig nodded in commiseration. Aristocracy, often trained to fight wars on land, believed they were superior to the man who fought his way up on the decks. Noblemen often threw tantrums, which could make his job incredibly difficult, especially when they were doing something stupid. Thank the Gods that his noblemen had had a grain of sense and had let him fight the sea battle!

"What do we do now?" Kensig asked him. The other man shrugged. "I guess we fight. I may not be in command, but I am still a loyal son of Fordia." He pulled out a cutlass and swung at Kensig. Kensig blocked the blow and nearly howled in disbelief. The man was strong. Kensig dodged the next blow and launched a sally of his own. The man almost lazily slapped his blade away. Kensig and Hawk exchanged blows, the large man forcing Kensig back across the ship. By now the sounds of fighting had died as sailors turned to watch the admirals duel. Crashing blades, glinting in the late afternoon sun swung and parried with blurring speed. Suddenly, Kensig felt something give in his opponent, the speed of the attacks slowed. Emboldened, he pushed back, and now it was Hawks turn to be on the defensive as they went back the deck towards the castle. Suddenly, Hawk's foot slipped in a puddle of blood on the deck, and he toppled to the deck in a cry of pain. Panting, his right ankle on fire, Hawk looked up and felt the point of a sword on his throat. "Mercy for my men." He croaked. "If they surrender." Kensig replied. Hawk nodded. "I will pass the order." He said. Kensig smiled and held out his hand. The other admiral took it and shakily got to his feet. Around them, Kensig's men cheered.

Kensig left the admiral in the care of his second while he and a handful of sailors searched the castle of the missing count. They came to the captain's quarters and found the door barred and sealed. Two of his men carried hatchets, and it was the work of several minutes to chop down the door. As it came down, one of his men screamed as a long rapier skewered through his heart. The satyr collapsed as the blade was pulled back. With a furious roar, Kensig charged through the remains of the door. There, another satyr stood, clad in a long black cloak and fine vest. The count's face was disfigured in a snarl and the two locked blades. However,  the count's rapier skills were poor to say the least, and Kensig had him disarmed in a moment.

"Surrender." Growled Kensig. "Of course." The count said smoothly. "I am quite worth the ransom you will get from me. If that idiot of an admiral had listened to me, I wouldn't be in this mess and you would be dead." Kensig felt the sword twitch slightly and he turned away with a growl. "Get this thing out of my sight." The remaining sailors leapt to obey while Kensig stalked out of the room.

On deck, it was plain to see his forces had carried the day. The remaining Fordic ships where either under guard or had already sailed away. Already, the first of the troop ships were passing by in the gathering gloom. Kensig breathed in deeply through his nose. A great day for the Malatic fleet. A great day indeed.