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The Celtic Mercy
The black canvas of the Celtic Mercy blended seamlessly into the midnight fog, transforming the massive Man O' War into an invisible predator. Under Captain Jonathon Blaze's command, the crew moved in absolute silence, navigating the dark entirely by touch and memory. They approached their prey from the blind spot of the wind, a slow-moving merchant galleon completely unaware that its death sentence had already been signed. Suddenly, the darkness shattered. The Mercy’s gun ports slammed open, but it wasn't iron balls that flew across the water. Specialized mortar fire and flaming pitch barrels rained down upon the merchant vessel, instantly igniting its sails and rigging. The target ship became a brilliant, roaring bonfire in the middle of the black sea, blinding its frantic crew and illuminating them perfectly for the Mercy’s boarding party. Before the doomed sailors could even comprehend the attack, the shadow of the Mercy slammed against their hull, her crew spilling out of the darkness to finish the slaughter. The smoke from the latest prize still clung to the damp night air as the Celtic Mercy sliced effortlessly through the chopping waves. At the helm, Captain Jonathon Blaze kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, his silhouette barely distinguishable from the rigging in the absolute dark. To the merchants of the Atlantic, she was a ghost story told in hushed whispers over watered-down ale. To the crown, she was an expensive plague. But to the crew aboard, she was a floating fortress fueled by gunpowder, greed, and a ruthless precision that left no room for mercy, despite the irony carved into her bowsprit.
The Hellhound
BE FUN HAVE SAFE The Hellhound is a ship, a crew, and occasionally a floating disaster—but above all, we are family. We believe in loyalty, having each other’s backs, sharing the rum, and never letting a good opportunity for mischief go to waste. We may argue, get loud, make questionable decisions, and occasionally wonder who gave the captain permission to be in charge, but when it matters, we stand together. On the Hellhound, everyone has a place, everyone pulls their weight, and nobody gets left behind… unless they annoy the captain enough. We sail for the adventure, stay for the friendships, and make enough memories along the way to ensure there’s never a shortage of stories to tell—or lies to exaggerate about them later.
The Rumjack
Ah the good ship Rumjack, commandeered from raid for Spanish silver and gifted to me by my Captain at the time. We sailed for Tortuga and rich waters surrounding that haven for those from the sea. She is a 35 gun Spanish Frigate made from the finest shipwrights in the civilized world carrying 35 guns ready to fight and win. Her red sails full of wind push to some of the fastest speeds no man has seen ever. May she always carry us to that next horizon and hold all the bounty we collect along the way.
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