[It’s early morning, but the sky is dull and leaden. Those who have been in this world since the beginning may recognize a familiar tang of ozone in the air as the clouds above roil softly. Hidden electricity seems to snap through the air and raises the fine hairs on the back of your neck.
The participants' ships sit on either side of the little bay, ready to move into the current that will sweep everyone up the reverse waterfall. The captains are steel-eyed. Cannons are being prepared. On the spits of land on either side, a crowd is watching, cheering and howling their approval. They quiet down as a man stands on a raised platform to the right, a crude, dented megaphone in his hands as he screams to be heard across the bay in deference to the rising wind that whips down from the east.]
Welcome to the 110th Annual Great Ghost Race, ye gnarly toothless sons of bitches! [The crowd roars and the pirates around you do, too. As if in response, the clouds above start to roil faster, as if coming to the boil, lacing with murky green light. The man begins to shout again:]
If ye be children of the sea, ready to brave the dangers all the world has to offer—[Crews begin to scramble up the riggings, ready to untie the sails. The clouds bubble and a green mist begins to form at the very peak of the mountain, clutching at the sides of it. The crowd turns toward it, cheering, fists raised:]
GET YE GONE! [Sails snap open and the ships pull into the massive current. As you hit it yourself, you’ll feel a massive tug that will send anyone unprepared stumbling backwards. Ships in front of, behind, and around are struggling to stay in the current as it narrows, going toward the top of the great peak. One or two veer off and smash into the rocky sides. Gravity pulls –but something more incredible is happening just on the peak.
Davy Jones, wreathed in a green mist, coalesces into being, watching everyone with burning red eyes. He is larger than life. A giant that straddles the twin peaks. You can see a bone under patches of swirling green skin. The crowd below roars. As the first ships pass under Jones’ great form, the crews roar at him: curses, blessings, asking for favors, promising an end. One ship remains quiet and those red eyes flash. A moment later a green lightning bolt snaps from the clouds and smashes into it, sending it twisting backwards, flying back overhead as it smashes into ships below.
For you, whether you cheer or not, he will watch you with burning eyes, before throwing back his head and laughing, his voice filling the air like thunder.
At the peak, there are other things to think about. The great waterfall like a river is tumbling down below and already two ships have smashed into one another, creating a burning wreckage. After cresting the point, your ship goes careening down, barely in your control, lost in the current. Other ships will fire on you, cannonballs coming in from the sides. One or two will try to send men aboard. Even if you are lucky and miss that, there’s wreckage to be avoided, sharp rocks, and occasional snaps of green lightning.
Should you survive this and hit the open sea, you will head right into a driving rain that soaks everything, the waves rough and wild.
Welcome to the Great Ghost Race!]
[ooc: We encourage you to play this out and crews to play with each other! For the sake of organization, post your ship/crew name below like you would any thread opener and say in the subject what you are open for:
Ex. Straw Hat Pirates, open for all combat.
Also, have fun!]
chipper
