Alright so I'm putting this part at the top of the post even though I'm writing it after writing the prompt below. I'm up here because well... there's a wall of text down there and I know some of you don't want to read it only to find out that we ain't gonna mesh. So let me lay out some expectations here before you decide to embark on my wordy adventure (which I hope you enjoy if nothing else).

I'm looking to do a nice grand scale 19th-ish century era roleplay likely set in a world of our own design. I don't name any countries here and I haven't even thought about what war could be going on. That's because 1; I'm bad at history, and 2; because I'm bad at history, I assume we'll make everything up. Do a bit of world building and all that. And in that direction, I'm happy to either share the burden and go back and forth with a partner building things up, or to do most of that myself and DM for you. I actually typically do the latter, but honestly I haven't given any long term thought to this story yet so if someone would like to jump on board while I do that and be just as big a part... well I'm happy either way.

That said, I'm not set on characters/motivations. I write mainly from the perspective of the captain here, but he doesn't have to be my main character. I might write as a lieutenant, midshipman, or some other crew member, but I assume you'll be playing the stowaway (although even that can be adjusted). Mostly, consider this a writing sample, or more so still: me trying to live out the neatness that is naval warfare after being inspired by a book I'm reading. Really nothing is set in stone aside from that I want boats with big guns and large scale warfare!

So what about smut or writing expectations? I like smut, and hell I'll even write smut for smut's stake so if you want to keep this short term or long term just let me know. If I had to take preference, I'd say I like long term though. And as far as fetishes or whatever... well I'm flexible. Let's discuss that in the first few PM's before we decide where we're going. I want to hear how this prompt inspired you to some character or another and let's develop that. I don't want to spend too long plotting and planning and never getting to write, but a little bit is good! That said, let's not make this a wall of text either. I'm happy with any response, no matter if it's full of questions or maybe even just a straight up continuation! Seriously, I've been told I write intimidatingly before, but don't let that stop you from at least saying hi!

Her Royal Majesty's Ship Veneration was the first of her kind on the entire world, and this was her proofing. Since the outbreak of the The War, of which more than a dozen countries were involved with about half as many alliances between them, now Captain Robin Hallard had risen from powder boy to his current rank through years of toil, trouble and blood. His present post was a recognition of that in that he'd flatly refused to take the cushier position back on the mainland of his island country because not only did he still have service to provide to his country, but he could not separate himself from the greed of controlling the first steel clad warship ever to sail the seas.

HMS Veneration was an unassuming ship, about as long as any other sailing ship on the sea, but shorter. It sat low in the water and boasted only a single main gun deck whereas the main deck had only the high sloped walls of her armor and a few old style snub-nose cannon meant to deter boarding action. To that ends the 50 pounder guns were actually a bit overkill, but, they were still half as light as the breech loading, rifled behemoths on that first gun deck. There were 12 of them to a "broadside" and the powder which packed them was also of a unique design which expanded a touch more slowly than traditional gunpowder. That gave those rifled pieces a distinct, deep bellow rather than a cracking boom, and it meant the shells it fired accelerated longer through the barrel before being carried by their own momentum. They out ranged and hit with greater speed than the far lighter shot of the main deck cannons, and the fact that Veneration only had to carry 24 of them meant that despite being plated in three inch steel and only being driven by sail power, she could pace any classical ship, and even do better than them in adverse weather where her weight and low shape decreased the effect of a cross deck wind blowing her off course.

"Looks like they've taken the bait, cap'n," the midshipman informed Hallard after having received the report from their lookout aloft. "Privateer, probably thinks she can take us being we're a lone escort," the young man, barely a teenager grinned. "Range either miles, bouts... coming along at about five an hour."

The captain nodded, "not quite full speed. They're playing it cautious... keep the guns in, but loaded. I want them well within our maximum range before they realize they're in it. Then when they try to turn tail and run we'll be able to hammer them the entire way back out."

"Aye sir, I'll pass the word."

"Meanwhile, you lot go on doing as you usually do and pretend like I've got no orders for you. We'll be keeping course until the time when we open fire. Soon as the guns start screaming we'll make starboard with the intention of either cutting them off or forcing them back the way they came," the captain continued, though he really doubted either of those outcomes would come to pass. Unless his crew was far less well trained than he thought they were, then they would be scoring good hits within the first three salvos and it wouldn't take very many of what they were throwing to sink a frigate. Unlike a full ship of war though, the privateer could outrun them though and given that his ship was still a one of a kind, he didn't exactly want anyone getting to go home to tell stories about it.

It was another half an hour before the privateer did reach range though. Veneration was an escort to two cargo ships moving out to the western front where hopefully soon a land foothold would be taken. If she made the voyage across the blue water unscathed and still ready for action, Veneration would have a major part to play in that action too. In the meantime though she wasn't to draw much attention, and a small escort was just that. They could slip around easily and none but a daring privateer would dare go outta their way to get close enough to them to figure out what she was and what she was capable of. It probably looked easy, despite the remoteness of their chance meeting, but it was going to be anything but.

"Start to starboard," Captain Hallard grunted casually while standing within the enclosed safety of the bridge. The windows had been boarded for action, so the captain had to step out through the doorway so he could see the effect of their fire. He waited, judging the range for himself by eye and by checking his pocket watch in comparison to his last report. When the number of his mental calculations matched the shout from aloft he grunted, took a breath and then uttered his favorite two words. "Open fire!"

Underfoot, the deck rumbled as the full length of Veneration guns were pushed out and onto target. They were massive pieces in length that immediately gave way the fact that they were far from ordinary, though it was unlikely that even if someone was quick enough to catch the sight of them they would understand what they could do. That would have to wait until they began to belch brown, suffocating smoke. Hallard winced, but stayed straight as his ears and chest both recoiled at the concussion of just four of those guns, and then the next four almost twenty seconds later when the first shots had landed and corrections could be made. Once the third group of four had fired, and found their target, did all the cannons begin independent firing.

In a way, it still wasn't quite as satisfying as a broadside, Hallard reflected internally as he watched columns of water splash skyward around their target. Sure, the explosions were bigger, the effect of their landing far more impressive, but there was nothing quite like the near simultaneous explosion of a 50 gun broadside. Rifled pieces though didn't need to rely on that kind of weight of fire though. Their accuracy was high enough that letting each crew take the time to aim actually mattered. That was made particularly effective given that they were firing explosive shells rather than solid shot. The captain had debated over the choice of weapon for some time, but until he knew he could capture a prize of the privateer, he'd rather send her to the bottom than risk her getting away.

Exactly how those first few hits must have been received, Hallard never knew. His lieutenant though soon announced the results as their starboard tack took them closer to the ship. "Seems they've given up running, sir," the younger man said. Unlike the midshipman, Captain Hallard's first lieutenant was a man grown and coming into his own the same as the captain had at his age. Hallard was proud to have raised him to be the capable seaman he was, but at the moment he didn't even look at his companion. "I think we've taken out their bridge, and all but her mainsail."

"Have they hoisted their flags?"

"No sir... and they'll be coming dead on cross our deck if we keep the current course."

The captain nodded gravely and prepared to issue fresh orders when he saw dark smoke erupt from their opponent now. Before the sound reached them, the impacts came, and the steel clad ship rung like a bell as cannon balls either bounced off her or disintegrated on impact. "Well in that case let's lay into her. I'm worried about her magazine though... load chain and solid shot and let's see if we can't make a prize out of her."

"Aye sir!"

Orders were passed, and above the ship which was slowly disintegrating like the ammunition she was firing, whistling chain shot spun over head like bolas, and solid 100 pound round shot shot all the way through her length and out the far side to continue on skittering across the waves. A few more returning shots clacked into Veneration to little effect beyond making someone below deck jump from the sound and hit their head on the bulwarks.

No, the real problem was something greater, and Captain Hallard didn't see it through the lust for his ship's power. His lieutenant had been right: they'd destroyed the bridge, and the chain shot had taken out the last bit of canvas aloft. The privateer was surging along on nothing but current and moment, and if anyone was left aboard her alive they were powerless to stop her collision coarse with the steel monster that had obliterated her like a piece of driftwood. That was all well in good though, save for the fact that Veneration had gone down to just top gallant sails for combat. She did not have the control to fully get out of the way of her opponent, or perhaps victim.

In one final vengeful effort, the ship came on dead straight to starboard and all the Captain Could do was continue to slam into it with solid shot in hopes of actually sinking it before someone aboard decided to light her magazine or before impact. Thankfully though only the latter proved to be a valid concern, and Captain Hallard managed to only turn enough to make it a glancing crash rather than a potentially disastrous cross deck impact which might have been the only thing which could have damaged Veneration.

Instead the wooden vessel had cracked itself, quite literally breaking its spine hitting the armored ship's angled bow. That was where her armor was thickest and the cracking, sinking ship then scraped along her killer over the length of Veneration before beginning to topple sideways. The sight of her deck was a massacre, a horror for the books even with blood literally running from her gun ports, but somehow there were still people clambering over the side, jumping into the water before they were taken to the bottom with their craft. Captain Hallard fumed, mostly at himself, but even in his angry rage he managed what was undoubtedly the right command. "Throw aside the ladders. Let's get as many aboard as we can."

The captain himself went to assist then. His helmsmen would keep their position, and their cargo cruisers would be easy to catch up to. Meanwhile he absolutely had to oversee every little bit of his ship's action, particularly because the raised armored walls of his ship made it impossible to bring people aboard cross the main deck in typical fashion. Hatches had to be opened, and given the scraping blow they'd taken, the Hallard was half worried some hatches might have been jammed, or might well fall off soon as they were opened. He was half inspecting them as he reached downward and gave his hand to wet foreigners whom needed to be pulled board. He wasn't really looking at them, save for out of the corner of his eye when he he felt a smallish hand grab his.

That made the captain turn, and when he looked down his first instinct was that he'd got hold of a midshipman. "Here ya are lad," he offered sympathetically as he grabbed the youngster under the arms to lift with his ample strength. Only as he did so he realized he wasn't feeling the chest of a young man. This was unmistakably...