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December 619, Infero Pordejon, Charlatan Bay More than two months had passed since the victorious assault on Fort Saint Millar. The local militia, that only a year before was nothing but a small group of tattered and hopeless highwaymen, controlled firmly the whole island: despite the fierce resistance of the last rebels and sporadic tumults in the streets, the inhabitants of Charlatan Bay could finally have some peace. The final victory had also brought back part of the previous wealth: after years of starvation and food rationing, supplies filled again stores and warehouses, while the plantations outside Charlatan Bay, abandoned for years, were now being planted again. In the bright morning, under the tropical sun, the Oleander volunteers started their return trip. The contingent, during the civil war increased to three full companies, started loading supplies and equipment on rowboats; the veterans of Fatu Hiva and the crew of Le Phénix helped them with chests and crates: nobody wanted to remain in the pirate settlement any more time than necessary. Fifteen soldiers, sadly, would have never left Charlatan Bay… each victory has its terrible price to pay. That day it was also time to part for two old friends. Tristan had definitely been away from his motherland for too long, and the situation was getting more and more dangerous every day: he had friends and allies in the Colonial Administration, but his fast rise from low nobility also created envies and discontent… remaining for too long on that damned island could mean a charge of treason, maybe even facing an execution squad. About one third of the Oleander expeditionary force, however, would have remained in the settlement for some more months: twenty-five soldiers with two six-pounders, led by the loyal Captain Charles De Maure. Stationed in Fort Saint Millar, they had to be deployed only in case of absolute need… a little precaution against further troubles with the gangs. Despite the success of the campaign, the undoubted victories, the limited losses among his soldiers, Tristan was very uneasy. Had he done the right choices? Had he saved civilians or offered a helping hand to the scourge of the sea? Had he saved Acropolis from a flood of pirates with nothing left to lose or had he only made them stronger? Only the Gods could know the answer. By sure, he had saved his friend, and a number of innocent people along with him. He had also accepted to repatriate without clamour the few survivors of the unfortunate Marderian Marine Corps, even if he couldn't find out anything about Admiral Cadiz… probably better in this way, considering his hateful treason and his cruelty. Another thought tormented Tristan during his last days on the island: the enemies had been defeated and the city was growing rich again, this was true… But the defences were still a paper tiger, clearly insufficient against an organized assault. The forts had been heavily bombed, and the city could barely afford the repairs; the militia was motivated and decently equipped, but discipline and training were extremely superficial: still far from the old Ashen Guard, or from the soldiers of the colonial Empires. And, by sure, Tristan had not saved Charlatan Bay just to let it be invaded by the rivals of Oleon… He was leaving the island, not abandoning it to it's fate. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The owner of the Honest Bob's Warehousing, an Altonian merchant named Robert (nobody knows where the "honest" part came from) is quite enthusiast for the new government. He doesn't care at all about who rules the settlement, but during the previous anarchy he was racketed by the gangs and his warehouses were empty, while now is business was going well again. Captains started appearing again in his office, making deals about their cargo, selling information about prices in different settlement or looking for escorting ships. In the bigger room, common goods are bought or sold: fresh or salted fish, fruit or vegetables, sea biscuits and meat, ale and rum, wood and carpenter tools… whatever is needed to keep a ship or a city alive. The upper floor accommodates expensive goods, such as refined wines, gold or exotic spices. These wares, always source of a huge profit, had almost disappeared from Charlatan Bay… another reason to celebrate the recovery of sea trades. Upstairs, as usual, negotiations were ongoing: in front of a lawyer, a Lotii captain is trying to exchange a cargo of Carnovian goods with two chests of gems. The Lotii and the Garvian smugglers don't trust each other at all, but the neutral mediator usually allows smooth transactions. In the shelf, navigation instruments are kept too: for a mariner, a good compass, a chronometer or a book with the coordinates of the main settlements may make the difference between reaching the destination or dying lost in the ocean… therefore they are more valuable than gold! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- With this build, I officially conclude the permanence of my main character in Charlatan Bay. It was a nice storyline, surely my best one since my inscription to BoBS. I have to thank again the ones who made it possible: Roadmonkeytj, the major of the city and the other main "player"; Kwatchi and Gulagurag, who created Charlatan Bay and its atmosphere; and all the people who commented and brought the storyline into BoBS world, for example with the KPA or the WTCM... Thank you all, guys! This build changes very little in Charlatan Bay storyline: the war is won, but the peace is still far. Oleander soldiers will remain there unofficially for a while, ready to help if the situation will require. Tristan leaves the island, but will keep an eye on the situation; a new secondary character, Charles De Maure, is the new leader of the Oleander contingent. The Lotii and Garvians are just a little addition I did after the KPA... with this I'm not involving Charlatan Bay, Garvey or Sea Rats in anything, I only liked the idea of answering somehow to the last news! Notes: Licensed as medium commerce in Charlatan Bay Lowtown
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28 September 619, Infero Pordejon, Fort San Millar The black flag of the rebels was still waving in the wind, but it was not going to last: the tides had turned. The tides had turned. After a long shelling with the few cannons available, the strong walls of Fort San Millar were finally breached, and the final assault began. The fort, once the pride of the Ashen Guard, had been occupied since the first days of disorders by a cruel group of smugglers: they made huge profits closing the port and profiting on the provisions, even if this caused a terrible famine and made violence explode in the streets. But finally the tides had turned, and the fort represented the last stronghold of the rebel pirates. By sure, the fort was intimidating, with 32 pounders towards the bay, sturdy walls and two of the sides right above vertical cliffs. However, as Tristan had realised studying the maps, the fort had not been projected to withstand a strong assault by land: some of the walls were too low and too exposed to artillery. He doubted that it was an error in the project: since a land attack could start only from Charlatan Bay itself, more probably, the Dark Bishop didn't want to transform the fort in an impregnable fortress for a rebel garrison… whatever the cause, Tristan was more than grateful for that. In that moment, Tristan heard the first musket salvos and the screams of the wounded men. It was time to move. He incited his men, an heterogeneous group of Oleander volunteers and local militiamen, and jumped on his boat. The battle plan was simple but, hopefully, effective: a frontal assault against the lowest wall, followed by a flanking attack from the cliffs, with boats and grappling hooks, to neutralize the cannons before they could be turned towards the parade ground. The hooks were thrown towards the parapet. There was no more time to think now: thirty minutes of fire and blood and everything would have been over, in a way or in the other. Tristan unsheathed the sword and shouted a war cry, followed by his men. That day, if Ares was with them, they would have seen the end of battle for Charlatan Bay. The battle for the external walls: To the breach! A barrel of gunpowder thrown by the defenders: In the parade ground: Counterattack of the defenders: A cannon and ammunitions: A bird's eye view: --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fort San Millar was finally assaulted. This is probably my last build for this storyline, but the future of Charlatan Bay is still uncertain, and peace will be frail for a long time, so... who knows? Probably Tristan will leave for the North, the Great Alliance States, the ice and the steppes, for the desert of New Oleon, the woods of Varcoast or the Southern Seas. I hope you enjoyed my builds in this storyline, and the story itself. I did. Again, I have to thank @Kwatchi and @Gulagurag, even if probably they won't read this, for the great storyline of the Dark Bishop and Charlatan Bay. In many cases, my builds retrace theirs (Fort San Millar itself, for example), or things they wrote about the settlement.
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Infero Pordejon, Northern Coast of the Charlatan Bay, 618 A couple of cannons in a strategic position, concealed in the thick jungle of Infero Pordejon… at first, the hidden battery was nothing more than that. Today, only two years later, things have changed a lot: the Bishop before, and the Marderian occupants later, progressively strengthened the little fort with heavier cannons, trenches and embankments, making it almost impregnable from sea. Together with Fort Saint Millar, this battery overlooks the bay… who controls them both, controls the port and all the naval trades of the settlement. "Five thousands doubloons for a load of hardtack and salted cod! What else do you want? And if we doubled the price, the inhabitants of Charlatan Bay would pay all the same! And we just have to sit here, drinking rum, playing dice and sending to hell any ship trying to sneak below our nose! We take no risk, and make a lot of money! Why the hell do you think we should take sea?" "Well, you are perfectly right, but… how long can it last? We have completely squeezed the lemon, and now Charlatan Bay is starving. Only the rich can afford the imported food, and now they are to the limit too. We are as rich as Mokolei satraps… why not to leave now, before one of the gangs, or one of the troublemakers of Hightown decides to cut our throats?" "Don't talk nonsense, my friend! The citizens may be starving, but some of them can still pay nice doubloons. The gangs fight one another in the streets for the control of warehouses and control zones, but all the goods they divvy up come from the port, and they know that no merchant would trust them… without our mediation the commercial routes would drain completely. Moreover, they are not strong enough to assault the forts. And that old captain, Von Bricktin, left the city several days ago... if we are lucky the indians are already using his skull as a mug, and may Hades damn his soul!" "You are right, as usual. Nevertheless I feel not quiet, our position is not so strong from land… I think we should hire more men, maybe build a palisade towards the jungle. And I think we should leave this damned island and enjoy our money in Mesabi Landing, Tortuga or another joyful city." "Mmh, taverns, alcool and high life… what a nice thought! One more month and we'll leave with all the gold of Hightown, I'm sure that some of those fatty pigs still hide money somewhere… let them starve for a while, and we'll take their gold for a piece of bread!" "Sir, the Oleander cargo ship we spotted has let down the sails… it has stopped right outside the bay! Hades knows what those drunkards are waiting for!" Meanwhile, a figure was crawling in the bushes behind the turret, a tomahawk in his hand. The man climbed the turret. The sentinel was staring the sea, as he had done for the last hour. Easier than expected… this sentinel was the last one. A quick hit with the handle of the axe, a dull thud, and all clear for his comrades. Everything seemed moving faster: a musket fired… ...sharply interrupting the conversation of the pirates. There wasn't even a real battle: it wasn't matter of bravery or cowardice, since the pirates were completely surrounded and no resistance was possible… ...how could they fight with a gun already pointed against their face? Things were going well, thought Tristan, even better than expected… now everything was in his friend's hands, since the incoming ships loaded with supplies needed a safe landing point in the bay, far enough from Fort Saint Millar cannons. Using a little mirror, his men sent a light signal to Le Phénix, the ship waiting outside. The timing had been incredibly good, thought Tristan, thanking Poseidon for His help… with a bit of luck, that evening all the inhabitants of Charlatan Bay would have had something to eat, and Gustaf would have received all the guns he needed for his men. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This build was strongly inspired to Kwatchi's hidden battery (I referred with a link to his build), that I considered a crucial element in the joined storyline about Charlatan Bay
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Infero Pordejon, somewhere near to Northern Coast, 618 After a long, extenuating waiting, the day they had been waiting for had arrived. During the previous days, all the patrols sent in exploration had found nothing but ashes, destroyed buildings and skeletal remains of the once luxuriant jungle… that damned mountain had hit very hard the northern part of the island, while the southern area and the settlement seemed, from advanced reconnaissance, almost untouched by the disaster. If that was a divine punishment for the sins of the Dark Bishop and of his damned followers, the next time gods should aim better, couldn't help but think Tristan. What concerned him most, however, were the many signs of violence and pillaging his men had reported, such as smoke plumes in the distance, burnt houses and farmers fortifying their homes: sitting there waiting, while innocent civilians were being killed everyday, was destroying his nerves. That morning, however, something was going to change: Master Sergeant Marcel Dubois, using his words, had "taken contact" with Gustaf Von Bricktin, and the old pirate was arriving to the camp; considering how pale Marcel looked, the contact probably implied being surrounded by an angry mob of pirates. In a very short time, the pirate gang entered the palisade: Gustaf was followed by a few men, shabbily dressed and covered with ashes. Tristan immediately recognized his old friend, with his head up and the back straight. Despite the age, the long time spent as an outlaw and the peaceful retirement in Charlatan Bay, the old officer was still there, leading once again his men against the enemy. The army Gustaf had gathered, however, was quite different from the grenadiers he once had led into battle against the barbarians on Pontilla borders: his soldiers seemed tired and visibly starving, their clothes were dirty and tattered, while their weapons were a heterogeneous assortment of old rifles and melee weapons. However, thought Tristan, those men didn't surrendered in spite of all the troubles, of the hunger, of the hopeless situation: the old officer was definitely still there, and still knew his job very well. When the pirates entered the camp, tension rose a little: even if in a different uniform, all the volunteers were Oleander soldiers, and caressing the trigger of the rifle when seeing a pirate was almost a natural reflex. Discipline, however, prevailed, and the soldiers kept calm. "Tristan, old friend of mine! I will never thank you enough for your help! You have really been mad enough to come here, and you have also found found someone mad enough to follow you on this damned island… welcome on Infero Pordejon, by the way, even if you can't see my island in its best shape." "You almost seem surprised, old buccaneer! How could I have missed a chance of seeing your ugly face?" Tristan continued, more seriously "I'm glad you are fine, Gustaf! When I heard of the Marderian coupe against the Bishop, and few weeks later of the disaster that hit Charlatan Bay, I feared for your life. How bad is the situation?" "You know I'm a tough nut to crack… and the ones who tried plundering my housed learned it too. But I'll be frank: the situation is very bad. When the surviving Marderians left Charlatan Bay, the gangs of Lowtown, the pirate crews blocked on the island, and basically anyone who had a weapon or who could steal it started fighting: some for power, wealth and areas of control, but most of them for food and survival. The port still closed, since the bastards controlling the forts prefer speculating on the little available supplies, and the crops are failing. If we don't act soon, Charlatan Bay will starve to death, with the only exception of the responsible ones, who are becoming fatter and richer. Oh, I almost forgot, they also want my head on a plate for what I'm doing." "Well, I've seen better situations… "...but I also brought from home a couple of toys that could be quite useful." "I see you even brought a cannon… quite a strong argument during a discussion! But to be honest food is what concerns me most… we are scraping the bottom of the barrel, but the famine is imminent." "First of all, excuse me for my poor hospitality… you and your men have arrived just in time for the lunch, and I'm still holding you here talking. I think that things will look better after a proper meal, and it seems your men really need it. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring much without a proper landing point; a cargo ship will be here in days, filled with whatever we need to feed your people and begin the reconstruction, but we still have a little problem…" "Yes, those damned forts! They will fire at sight." "Unless we take care of them before. Come with me, after ten years we have again a battle plan to discuss together… and I think that the old officer I once met in Pontilla will enjoy my idea." A carriage of supplies An overall view
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Previously: Out of the Ashes -Roadmonkeytj To hell (and back?) -Keymonus Meanwhile in Acropolis -Keymonus Charlatan Bay 618- Tristan had sent out a patrol to inspect the area around where the supplies had been unloaded. It wasn't long before the men came across a badly burnt cottage. This devastation is terrible … There's nothing here to save! Master Sergeant Dubois exclaimed. Do you think the rest of the island looks like this? A private whispered to another. However there was no time for a response as the patrol had been surrounded. Easy there fellas you jest ease them weapons towards the dirt an we 'ave no problems Savy! Two gun Jo' as the locals knew him had a heavy island accent as his mother was a native and his father a sailor of unknown origin and port . He was boasted to be able to shoot the cork off a bottle at 1,000 yards and not spill a drop of Bru-Haha. The Master Sergeant had not spoken the words to stand down. But the would be captors were already relaxing their aim. It was only moments later when a carriage clambered up the lane with a four horse team, something that you would have expected pulling a fire brigade not a private carriage. Dubois grew even more uncomfortable with the situation when he noticed the long retired Platoon flag flying from the carriage. A hardened man who wore a Navel Officers hat stepped from the carriage. Sergeant Marcel I presume? Master Sergeant! Retorted Dubois And just who do you think you are holding me and my men this way. I am Gustaf VonBricktin current major of Charlatan Bay. I presume Tristan is nearby we should go meet him and get those supplies to my warehouses so they can be safe. How do I know you are who you say you are? Marcel questioned. Gustaf responded. Well I was hoping knowing your first name would be enough Identification. Fair enough, but that Platoon flag flying from your carriage hasn't been used since the invasion of Pontilla so how did you come by it!? Marcel said Boldly. That's a Battalion flag Master Sergeant, Gustaf smirked as he corrected him and I didn't say how I did. You will have to find out how Tristan and I know each other some other time I'm afraid, but for now since you recognized it as a Oleander flag, it did it’s job. As Gustaf's team gathered round He explained to Dubois These are my hand picked private patrol we have more allies at my warehouses in town that support our cause. Now please Marcel lead the way to Tristan we are running out of daylight. Oh and Private . . . The old man in the Admirals hat cut in This cottage was not a victim of the volcano directly, you see it housed the stubborn Mr. and Mrs. Pontelli. Before it was reduced to cinders you could find the loveliest yellow flowers growing in the flower boxes and always a kept garden full of wild flowers by the lovely Mrs. Pontelli. If not from the volcano then how did it burn? the private asked. The old Man Explained One night a group of bandits were a foot and they came upon the cottage. They demanded money and rations. Then when Mr. Pontelli refused they broke oil lamps on the place and torched it with the couple inside. The horror these people must be heartless! The private exclaimed. But this place is in the middle of nowhere how do you know of such details? The Old man replied simply. Me and the misses hid in the fireplace until the cottage was lost and the looters had gone. Gentlemen shall we get moving? Gustaf questioned.... _______________________________________________ OoC: This continues the Joint Story of Out of the Ashes of Charlatan Bay. Comments and Criticism are welcomed Special thanks to @Keymonus for the inspiration of this story. Additional Pictures:
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Acropolis, Pharos, October 618 Acropolis, probably the smallest and the least important colony of the glorious Empire of Oleon… basically nothing more than a little village clung on a tiny island, far from commercial routes and devoid of any resource. Almost in the mouth of one of the largest and fiercest pirate settlements in the archipelago, Acropolis has never been raided, and not because of its strong defences: the reason is that only a group of beggars would consider appealing the possible loot. A new house, however, has been built in Acropolis: a modest house, if compared to Breshaun palaces or to the homeland manors, but probably the largest building in the whole settlement. Built with stones hardly carved from the bowels of the island, this house belongs to Rimbaud Family and represents at the same time a warehouse, an advanced base for operations in Southern Terraversan Sea and a residence. Or, better, it could be a residence if it had been already furnished, something that is still work in progress. Today, however, something important seems to be happening in the house, probably the most interesting thing since Louis the milkman broke his wooden leg trying to ride a cow: an important officer is heading there, with "the high uniform, the guards and all the other things"; an admiral, according to someone, a commodore by sure, according to others, or "just another useless medals wearer", according to old Louis. "...thank you, monsieur, please bring the bottles in the wine cellar. And be careful with the globe, you there! It was shipped directly from the Old World!" "Sorry to interrupt you, monsieur, I'm here to meet l'honorable monsieur Duchamp." "Welcome in Acropolis, monsieur le Commodore, I wish you had a smooth journey. My master is waiting for you inside, please come inside!" The Commodore dismissed his guards and entered, preceded by the butler. "Probably I should congratulate with you, Renè." Attendant of the House of Rimbaud, administrator of their commercial empire and now manager of a football team… you are a man full of resources!" "Adrien, my friend! Welcome in this metropolis! I wish you had a smooth journey. Well, my men had the idea just after the campaign on Ile d'Or. To be honest I didn't expect the result at all… some of the guys learnt the rules only on the way to Bastion. Who knows, the support of that strange priest may have helped… some of the men appreciated that, others feared an uncomfortable questioning in case of defeat! But now- continued Renè Duchamp more seriously- let's move to important things. You probably know that our common friend Tristan landed with some soldiers on Infero Pordejon..." "Is that true? I've heard that, but I thought it was just one of the many port tales, like the creative ones about Governor Cooke! Did the county go to his head? What does he want to do on that damned island?" "Unfortunately he left before receiving the news about his title. And you have the chance to tell him personally about his new rank." "What do you mean?" "Well, answering your previous question, Tristan went in Infero Pordejon to provide relief to the population and to help Gustaf VonBricktin, old friend of him and new major of Charlatan Bay. I think he planned everything quite carefully, but he needs someone for the delivery of a certain cargo he made me gather here in Acropolis. Without that, he will probably be brutally killed by the inhabitants within a couple of months. You can understand the whole thing better reading Tristan's words" "A safe plan, nothing to say. Let's see..." "Let's see what is the cargo… Hardtack, salted meat and salted cod, sausages, sauerkraut to prevent scurvy, a supply of flour, butter, dried peas, beans and onions… Dear gods, how many soldiers has he raised?" "Read below, Adrien: seeds, agricultural tools, nails, planks and beams. The suppliers are not for an army, they are needed to feed the civilians and to rebuild the damaged houses. Moreover, you should also bring Tristan some additional things he asked me to provide: a couple of chests of shiny Astrapi silver, special gunpowder for signalling rockets, a box of documents and some canned meat produced by those madmen in Mesabi Landing." "So everything is already planned, we'll lend a hand to those scoundrels… The cargo is on the island, Le Phénix is moored in the port, and I'm here, so you also have someone mad enough to lead your ship to Charlatan Bay. There is only a tiny detail: Charlatan Bay port is closed, and the forts would shoot us on sight. In that case, surviving would not be the best option, I've heard terrible things about the prisoners' fate in the gold mines of that hellish island!" "I know I'm asking you to take a risk, but we should trust Tristan. Be careful, but if he promised that you will find a safe mooring point, you actually will." "Well, I owe Tristan my life and I'll trust him again this time. But if he saved me from Saleeki pirates only to make me become a target for cannonballs, I swear I'll come back from Hades' kingdom only to insult him!" Without minifigs: @Mesabi, @Drunknok, @dr_spock, @Bodi, @Captain Genaro, @blackdeathgr, @Ross Fisher, @Roadmonkeytj I've been too busy in the last period to keep the pace with BoBS world; I included references to things I couldn't comment (fake news about Cooke, canned meat from Mesabi Landing, the end of the tournment, the county, the support of "the Hawk of Hades" to my team). Since my character still doesn't know about his title, I still can't build a proper answer to his investiture… I'll do it when it will fit with the storyline
