Adventure Ships Novels & Stories

The largest force remained on the beach to guard the ships and the treasures and, most importantly the slaves that were their only food source, and a second company was walking the route about a day’s journey behind the mounted team. Never had the humans attacked from the coast. The oceans around Concordia were riddled with rocky reefs and there existed only a few points that could be navigated with a deeper keel, which was why the majority of the vampire ships were shallower, lighter craft. The few channels between the reefs were closely guarded vampire secrets.

"You're joking, right?" Dad blinked, his eyes narrowing. "Is there something funny about this?" "No, no I just… you've heard the stories…" "Fantasy," he said, rolling his pen over his fingers. "The ships we have now are much faster, safer, very different from the wooden ships still used around Avondale and Breles. Plus, if we are successful, we can convince the Alpha of Breles to contribute to—"

Perched upon a mountain, we gazed down at the grand ocean. Beneath us, there were hundreds of ships. Enormous wooden ships with colourful sails, all poised to venture deeper into the unknown. The atmosphere changed from tense to anticipation and a tinge of fear. This was a serious matter. "How are we going to get down?" I asked with a frown. Before anyone could respond, Adrian, Lucifer, and Belgephor leaped from the ledge.

"Expedition, the call to the long voyage of a group of people whose purpose was to expand their territory. Magellan had five ships while conducting their expedition. It was named Victoria, Natividad, San Antonio, Santiago and Concepcion." Everyone turned to the source of the voice. That voice was still familiar so he frowned and lost her mood. ‘What is Howie doing here?’ "Wow, that's great. Are those ships like the Titanic?" the boy asked in amazement at Howard's answer. "No," Howard replied briefly to the child. Without saying a word he took the textbook from Zannie. The sourness on his face did not escape her eyes because of what he had done. "Here's the answer, what's hard to explain? Spo

Henry took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the refreshing air of the sea, but instead of loosening the knot that formed in his abdomen, the freshness only made it tighter, mostly because he knew what was waiting for them in those open waters. His ship was on the very vanguard of the armada, followed by the five hundred ships filled with the combined armies, each ship having the same number of human soldiers, shadow demons, and ice demons in order to create a balance that would help them when it is time to face the rumored sea monsters.

They close their eyes to the onion. The port was as crowded as Davos had ever known it. Every dock teemed with sailors loading provisions, and every inn was packed with soldiers dicing or drinking or looking for a whore . . . a vain search, since Stannis permitted none on his island. Ships lined the strand; war galleys and fishing vessels, stout carracks and fat-bottomed cogs. The best berths had been taken by the largest vessels: Stannis's flagship Fury rocking between Lord Steffon and Stag of the Sea, Lord Velaryon's silver-hulled Pride of Driftmark and her three sisters, Lord Celtigar's ornate Red Claw, the ponderous Swordfish with her long iron prow. Out to sea at anchor rode Salladhor S

I whispered. ​"I see it," he said, his eyes turning a lethal, glowing green. ​On the horizon, a fleet of ships appeared. They weren't made of wood. They were made of iron and steam, their chimneys belching black smoke that stained the moonlight. ​The "Kings from across the sea" had arrived. ​I took Liam’s hand, my silver light flaring to meet his emerald fire. ​The story of the Silver Rejection was a tale of the past. The story of the United Pack was the present.

"We have a situation at the southern border outposts. Three hours ago, a fleet of dreadnoughts breached the southern mist-barrier of our territorial waters. They do not fly the banners of the southern rogue factions, nor do they carry the sigils of any known shifter pack on this continent." Aurelia stepped forward, her golden eyes narrowing. "Commander, describe their ships." "They're enormous, of petrified black mahogany, reinforced with crimson steel," Marcus reported, jaw clenched. "Their sails are pitch black, woven with blood-red crests depicting a serpent coiled around a eclipsed sun. They have dropped anchor in the Bay of Whispers, and their envoy is already marching up the King's Roa

One destined to last a lifetime. Although one could not consider them to be original, Stephen’s name for each ship was quite explanatory of the vessel’s function. The Jamaican tobacco plantation’s merchant ship was named Jamaica and the Georgian cotton plantation’s merchant ship was named Georgia. Both ships were large and cumbersome when filled with merchandise. They were often accompanied by one or both of his two frigates, the Duke, and the Duchess. Each was suitably manned and armed to fend off possible attacks from pirates or privateers.

A blast of cold wind hit me right to the face, and then, we burst out into what looked like a coast. Dirty wooden floorboards, lanterns swaying overhead despite the sun still being out, numerous and endless stacks of crates in every corner. I mean every corner. The sound of hissing from different steam engines combined together, drowning out the chatter from the men around—some loitering, others stacking things and leading people into boats. I’d never seen so many ships packed into one spot—cargo transport, weathered fishing boats, even some shiny passenger ships with polished rails that reflected like a mirror. But Vladislav didn’t pause. He kept moving, straight toward one ship in particul