Rodamrix #ships Novels & Stories

The voice came from Private Roxer, who was at the ship’s front. “Report Private” responded Froster. “Sir! Vessel ahead.” “Lieutenant, I see it too.” added Wriixer. Likaya exited the galley and headed out front. It was at least a kilometer away, but the vessel was indeed a steamboat with its paddles modified for marsh travel.

Chapter 50: The Shadow Lord's Departure The harbor stretched before him like a promise of violence made manifest, its waters black as midnight beneath the pre-dawn sky. Forty-seven warships rode at anchor in formations that spoke of military precision and unlimited resources, their hulls gleaming with magical reinforcements that could deflect cannon fire and turn aside the most sophisticated naval magic. Each vessel flew the silver shadow of House Nox, but these weren't the modest coastal patrol ships his ancestors had maintained. These were instruments of conquest, designed to carry war across oceans and challenge powers that had never faced serious external threats.

The morning after Inquisitor Vane’s ultimatum, the Blackwater River looked like a graveyard of iron. Three massive Southern warships sat anchored in the center of the flow, their steam vents huffing rhythmic clouds of grey smoke into the pristine mountain air. They were "teeth" of a different kind—not bone and sinew, but coal and steel. ​Rhea stood on the battlements, her fingers tracing the rough stone of the manor. Beside her, Elias was a statue of suppressed fury. The grey-gold veins on his neck pulsed in time with the thrumming of the ships' engines.

It was a vessel she recog‌nized—part of the fleet she had f‍ought‌ to keep out of the‍ hands of the registry. "We ha⁠v​e to c⁠ha‍n‍ge the brandin​g o​n t‍he Rotte⁠r​da‌m tugboats, Damien," she said, a small,‍ ge‍nuine⁠ smi​le⁠ finally​ breaking the‌ sharp l⁠ines of​ her m‌outh. "To what?"

The enemy ship is gaining ground, the distance closing faster than they hoped. The flag is clearer now, the blood-red skull a chilling promise against the black. The ship is large, menacing, built for speed and violence. It cuts through the water with relentless purpose, the gap between them shrinking with each passing moment. As it draws closer, the name painted in crimson letters becomes visible: The Crimson Vengeance.

Madam Amelia seemed to know this as she nodded her head at me. “Now what? You can’t break your vow. What will you do? You can’t have a Wolf Rider running around Astoria.” There it was. She knew what her daughter was. The half human part of it was the least of it. The fact that she was a Rider—a creature that could control a werewolf with a simple command. A creature that ruined my family's life. A creature, who must be destroyed before it gains power. There hasn't been a rider born in half a century, and even before, there was only one that ruled Astoria.

A warning. I grip the railing harder, heart pounding. The cargo ship looms ahead, massive and slow, vulnerable. And then—floodlights blaze from the starboard side. Another vessel emerges from the dark. Sleek, black, marked with a single insignia. The Vitale crest. I exhale, part relief, part dread. The new ship surges between the cargo and the attackers. Its guns roar, tearing into the speedboats with terrifying precision. Engines sputter, hulls splinter, screams cut through the air. Within minutes, the would-be raiders are retreating, limping into the night.

*** Amaria and her friends had already arrived at Robb's. Robb began with a bright smile, "welcome to Mana's Bloom, what can I get for... " and paused when he noticed them. "You five again," he said stiffly. "We'd like you to lend us some of your weapons," Amaria said cheerfully. "What exactly do you mean by lend?" Teresa, Dove, and Elex inquired of Amaria. Robb frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose, saying, "young lady, do you think I'd just lend you a few of my weapons like that?"

“ARAMIDE!” Adrian screamed as he ran to her and fell at her side, she had rolled down fifteen steps, she was covered in blood and her hair was stuck to her skin, Adrian looked up at his mother. his eyes were filled with rage and they barely registered his mom shaking her yea profusely as if to day she had no clue about what happed that didn't matter now, the big problem was that Aramide wasn't breathing, guilt washed over Adrian.