Bram: Hunt for the Irinen IC

OOC

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Dyna Lee walked down the street, looking for the tavern that the letter had told her to meet at. She was in a little coastal village called Farhert, located on the western coast of Mathyr. It wasn’t much, it’s dock so small one might forget it even existed. However, few knew of the bay a couple of miles down, shrouded in trees, where most ships ended up docking to stay out of sight. On the outside, it looked like any old fishing village…but there was far more at work in little Farhert than anyone in the royal navy knew. Dyna was a bit skeptical about taking a job coming out of Farhert, but jobs were scarce these days, and pirates wouldn’t have sent a calling letter, so she knew she wouldn’t end up with a lot of those…again.

She was one of the most competent Sailing Master’s of her time, but few needed to sail dangerous waters, and many were capable of sailing the safe ones. So, if she wanted challenging sort of work, she needed to look outside the…normal area of calling. Her bootsteps echoed off a silent street, and she wondered if she was in the right place.

She finally found it; a tavern called The Hung Jackal. The image shown on the tavern sign left much to the imagination in terms of how that jackal was hung. Dyna shook her head and walked in, and the silence of the street outside was met with roaring mirth within. She shoved her way through the mingling bodies, most smelling as though they had not bathed at all that year. She forced her nose to acclimate to the smell as she searched the tavern for a crew sign up.

Most sign ups were either blatantly obvious, or shrouded in secrecy, but few were as simple as this one. Two men at a table, both sitting on the same side, one gripping a signup sheet between his dirty fingers…Dyna had been expecting something a bit more elaborate, what with the fancy calling letter and all.

She walked up to the table, and before she could speak, the older of the two said “Pretty lady, if only we had the time. As it is, we won’t be wantin’ your company tonight. We’ve got business, y’see,” he said, sparkle in his eye.

Dyna rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time she was mistaken for a prostitute. As many capable sailing women were out there, She found twice as many men who were sure that women couldn’t sail.

“You called for me,” she said, but the two immediately burst into laughter.

“Wasn’t me, was it you, Jannie?”

“Nope, wasn’t me bos'n!” The one called Jannie said, and they began to roar in laughter once again.

Dyna tossed the summons onto the table, and when the older of the two went to grab it, she plunged her dagger into it. “Ye might be wantin’ to learn to respect your superiors," she said with a glare, and suddenly his face was serious. He tugged at the summons before she lifted her knife off of it, spun it to face reverse, and then planted her fists on her hips. He opened it hurriedly and read.

“Why, this is for the Sailing Master! How did you get this! It’s for Denali –“

“Cherali.” Dyna finished. “I know. You spelled me name wrong.”

They both just stared at her a moment. She glared back at them and cleared her throat, and they both jumped.

“My apologies, Master Cherali! We just thought…well we got confused when…y’see we –“

“It doesn’t matter! Let’s get to business. What ship are ye on and where do we sail, Mister…uh…”

“Bos’n Winner, Ma’am,” he responded with a tip to his graying head, where there was no hat. “Jannie, where are the papers? You don’t got the papers, well go get ‘em! Git!” and with a smack to the head, Jannie ran off to get whatever papers it was Bos’n Winner needed.

When the exchange was over, she asked,“Boatswain Winner?” with disdain.

“Well, eh, it’s Bos’n Walter actually, but on a ship with Captain Chance ones got to up their game, the game of names, so to speak. It’s a mighty neat crew aboard our merchant ship, The Jolly Possum –“

“Jolly…Possum?” Dyna asked. “Are you joking?”

“Now don’t judge yet, Master Cherali, the Possum’s a bute and sails true! As to where we’re goin’, none but I and the Captain know, not even young Jannie, so I sent him off. We don’t need any gossipin’ before we’re clear of Farhert, if you get my meaning.”

Dyna grabbed a chair and set down, arranging her skirts briefly so that her knife was safely hidden back within them. “Just call me Dyna. So, where are ye needing me to take you?”

“Have you heard the call, Master Cherali? Er, Dyna?”

“If yer referring to the search for one RS Irinen, yea, I’ve heard of it. What’s a merchant ship want with a lost royal?”

“This merchant ship is a bit more than meets the eye. It so happens Captain Chance has some information that can lead us to it, and as you know, it’s supposed to…well…”

“Have something of value?” She finished for him. “But no one knows what. Why should I risk myself on a treasure hunt for what might be an empty boat at the bottom of the sea?”

“Y’see, Captain has information that suggests –“

“Your captain has a lot of information,” she interrupted.

“Aye. That he does.” Bos’n Walter had a twinkle in his eye again. “You’d have to talk to him to find out where he gets it. Anyway, says you’re the luckiest Sailing Master in Bram, and we’ll be needing someone who can tread dangerous waters. Someone who can sail wot’s not been sailed before. We need to get through-“

“The Great Break,” she gasped quietly, then arranged her face once more to hide her surprise.


“Aye, the break,” he responded. “Are you aboard, Master Cherali?”

Just then, she looked sideways as some random fellow was being pushed to the floor, his cup flying upward and toward Dyna. She caught it, and with a swivel of the cup caught most of the contents as well, only a bit sloshing out of it and over her hand. She took a sip, and whispered, “Aye,” And Boatswain Walter just stared a moment before smiling.

“Well, no time to lose! Let’s get to the Possum!”

"Careful with that, you fool! Hey! Hey! Hey! Thats valuable you buffoon! No! That stays, put that back on the ship!" Captain Alphonsus growled.

The wealthy merchant was busy pointing and directing his crew as to where he wanted to sell his exotic wares. It bothered him a little bit that some of the crew didn't understand what the word "fragile" meant. In all factuality, with most of their educations combined they probably didn't know what the word fragile meant. Yet, smart people made smart demands, and Alphonsus didn't have the money or energy to deal with such demands. So, the wealthy merchant surrounded himself with a bunch of undereducated, but loyal men. In return for their labor, they were fed and had a home on the Golden Albatross.

As Alphonsus barked orders at his crew, a man in fancy attire approached him with a clipboard, a piece of parchment, and a quill. His high pitched droning voice perfectly matched his lanky, bony build.

"Shipping manifest," requested the skinny man.

Alphonsus looked the scrawny man up and down then proceeded to hand him a piece of paper.

"There's your damned manifest. Now leave me! We're busy!" grumbled Alphonsus.

Indeed, the stall Alphonsus had set up was already crawling with customers. Before long the merchant would sell his load, or he would have, if the winds of fate hadn't blown his way that day. Alphonsus noticed, in the middle of a sale, that a large procession of military personnel was boarding a royal navy vessel.

"What are they doing?" asked Alphonsus, almost to himself. However, one of his crew was quick to answer.

"You see, sir, their royal majesties have sent out many ships to recover the RS Irinen. Its rumored to have untold riches aboard. Fancy that." chuckled the crew member.

"Untold riches, eh?" said an interested Alphonsus.

"Yes, sir. Ya see, their royal majesties have sent numerous-"

"You said numerous..." said Alphosus, shocked.

"Well, I've been readin' sir, but thats besides the point."

"YOU CAN READ?" asked Alphonsus in quite a loud voice.

"Well the stowaway taught me, sir, but-"

"Stowaway!?" asked Alphonsus, angrily.

"Oops... well s-s-sir! Ya see-"

"Nevermind, just go on with the damned story, Scrappy!"

"Well the RS Irinen went a missin' and there's a big uproar about it. One ship, and for one ship, the royals have sacrificed countless others. Don'tcha think that the RS Irinen is at least a wee bit valuable to them?"

Alphonsus nodded, "Good point, Scrappy. I am suddenly VERY interested in this ship"

Grunting, Bors lifted the crate or lead shot off of the pier and headed up the brow. A cool sea breeze brushed his face, making the sweltering heat from the sun a little more bearable. He could hear Captain Ormsby up on the Forecastle yelling at the boatswains mates up on the rigging, readying the sails for getting underway. He set the crate down next to the starboard cannons and stood, stretching his back and surveying the pier. They were in a Mathyr forsaken little town on Pern, stocking up on last minute supplies. Bors turned back to inspect the cannons when the shot of a pistol whipped him around, a pistol of his own in each hand. Captain Ormsby was holstering a still smoking pistol as the body toppled over the side of the ship and into the water. Bors sighed and holstered his own weapons, making his way to the captain. Billy Graver, no doubt. He knew it was going to happen to the kid sooner or later, with his temper letting loose on anyone he felt, that included the captain.

"Chandler," the head boatswains mate Jack Lux said quietly as he approached, and Bors grunted in greeting.

"Billy?"

Jack nodded. "Wish the lad coulda kept his mouth shut fer a day more, I do. Now we 'as to deal with the stink'n corpse, 'stead of letting the sharks 'ave it," he said sourly, stalking off and yelling at the crew to lower a boat to recover the body. Bors shook his head and turned as movement caught his eye. He watched as Ramya made her way up from below decks, all fluid motion, reminding him somewhat of a cat. Her usual playful grin was gone, replaced with a grimace. Bors then noticed the bag in her hand, full of medical supplies no doubt.

'She must have heard the gunshot,' Bors thought, and continued watching as she assessed the situation, then went back below decks seeing as she wasn't needed. Turning around he leaned against the ships hull, staring out into the ocean. Soon, they will start out after this Royal ship, lost somewhere in the Great Break. Soon, they will have their hands on something of value, that at one time belonged to the Royals. Bors grinned to himself at the thought. Anything taken from the Royals was always sweeter than some freelancing merchant or a personal ship.

'Soon,' thought Bors again, his grin turning into a deep chuckle, something valuable of the Royals would be his.

Grintawh walked down a long open path, one side many inns, taverns, and shops, and the other side the sea filled with ships that had been docked. There were many merchants bringing in goods, but Grintawh wasn’t here to simply buy goods. Grintawh was very low on money because he couldn’t find anyone who would hire him. Some simply saw no need for an extra mouth, and others simply did not believe that he had any “power” or “magic”.

A merchant ship not to far from Grintawh was delivering goods that he thought to be exotic. “Hmm. Exotic goods, long distance.” He grumbled to himself. He stopped just before reaching the ship when he overheard a captain, or atleast what Grintawh thought was the captain, talking to one of his crew.

"You see, sir, their royal majesties have sent out many ships to recover the RS Irinen. Its rumored to have untold riches aboard. Fancy that." chuckled the crew member.

"Untold riches, eh?" said the captain.

"Yes, sir. Ya see, their royal majesties have sent numerous-" The words of the crew member cut out as Grintawh heard a loud crash behind him. Someone had fallen with a large strangely designed pot that shattered into pieces. I wonder if that was. . . Grintawh remembered that he needed to be listening.

“Good point, Scrappy I am suddenly very interested in this ship” said the captain.

Grintawh had heard three others speaking of this ship, so he knew there would be many others looking for this ship. “Looks like I found some work” he said to himself.

Grintawh began his slow walk up to the captain, moving slowly and using his staff for support. “I hear you’re looking for the RS Irinen. You aren’t the only ones looking for it!” said Grintawh.

“I think you will find I am exactly what you need for a journey that requires a weather worker such as I!” yelled Grintawh as the wind began to move rapidly in multiple directions.

“If you’re willing to give food, shelter, and payment, you won’t be the last to find the RS Irinen!” Yelled Grintawh as the wind began to settle.

A slight breeze that flowed northwest was all that was left of the wind.

The fist collided with Daniel’s stomach like a mace, driving breath from his body. It stole out from between his teeth with a quiet hiss. Daniel would have doubled over if the men holding his arms would have allowed it, but they simply chuckled and bent him back by his hair. A wheezing gasp escaped his mouth, something you might have heard from a dying thing.

“Told ya already, tramp. I ain’t looking for more men on my boat, and I won’t have you stealing nothing that your shifty eyes set upon. I got enough problems without losing valuable merchandise, and I don’t like the way you look. Now why don’t you crawl back into port and drink yourself to death in a gutter somewheres?”

The captain of Erint’s Compass laughed heartily, along with his crew. He was a big man, with a belly that shook as he laughed, made fat by the fortunes sea and trade had bestowed upon him. He spoke through a thick peppered beard with a strange accent, cutting his consonants off short. Daniel was confident that he could take the man, but he knew that he couldn’t lick the man and his entire crew. Punched like a girl, too.

“That,” said Daniel carefully “Really depends on what you’re calling “men”.

The comment earned him a punch in the jaw. He went blind for an instant as the fist connected, all vision washed aside by a tide of red. When sight returned, he saw Thomas smirking at him, lounging with the man as if he was one of the crew. Smug bastard. The captain leaned forward and whispered to him dangerously.

“Listen, you. There’s not a man in this port will hire a bum like you as a hand. I can smell cheap whiskey on your breath from here, and you ain’t got the marks of a sailor. Now maybe you know how to knot a rope, and maybe you’ve even got some fight for the pirates, but all I see is a corpse ain’t quite crawled to the gallows yet. You’re pathetic.”

Daniel winced, and not because his mouth hurt. That had been a much better punch, he grudgingly admitted to himself. The man was right; he did look like a vagrant. He still smelled from last night’s drowning of his sorrows. He had something of the order of two weeks worth of beard gracing his cheeks, and he had forgotten to wear his eye patch again. He must look like something to frighten children. He spat blood at the captain’s feet, and the man grew bright red. He knew it was wrong to bait the man, but he felt he was in no danger. The man had never killed anyone, he could see that from the lack of souls tethered to him.

“If I see you again, eyeing my cargo, I’m like to kill you, dog. I won’t have no thieves on my deck or on my watch. Keep off my deck, or I’ll put you down, you hear me?”

The men at Daniel’s sides released him, and he managed to snarl “I hear you,” under his breath before he tottered unsteadily back down the dock. Some fools simply didn’t like to take a good deal if it wrapped itself up and gave it to them, he supposed. Still, it couldn’t hurt to get himself cleaned up some. Was one of his teeth wiggling when he poked it?

A short walk and a dunk in a rain barrel later, Daniel had managed to tidy himself up a bit. He’d put on his dress blues and his eye patch, and though he couldn’t do much about the beard without a looking glass and a razor, he’d combed his wavy dark hair back with his fingers. A quick swig of whisky to take the edge off that fat lip, and he imagined that the effect was passable.

The last dock he hadn’t tried already housed a merchant vessel called the Golden Albatross. As he walked down the dock, only limping slightly, the wind suddenly picked up. Strange, that. It carried the voices of the two men at the end to him, as they talked of the Irinen, a ship of no small mystery. They appeared to know little more than he did. As suddenly as it had started, the wind died down again. Daniel put it down to providence, though Thomas shook his head silently and stalked along behind him as he always did. He didn’t like talking, but sometimes a short pitch was imply unavoidable if you wanted to get anything done.

“Afternoon, my fine gentlemen. Would either of you happen to be the captain of this vessel? I must admit to overhearing some of your conversation, and was thinking perhaps I might add something to it. As it so happens, I am passing familiar with the Irinen, and might help dispel some rumors.”

Daniel extended his hand for a quick shake from both the men in turn. “Yes, the Irinen. Pardon a moment, my name is Daniel Cotton, and I offer excellent protection for an affordable price. If the Irinan is a bounty you wish to go after, I feel you may require my services. You’ll not find a man as steady with a rope, and certainly none as steady with ordnance. Now, from my time in the Royal Navy, I can tell you that the Irinen is certainly the King’s ship, and he guards its secrets jealously. Of the comrades I’ve had that guarded the thing, all were sworn to absolute secrecy regarding their duties. One thing is certain, however: The Irinen is one of the few ships to ever go through the Great Break!”

Thomas frowned at him from over the merchant’s shoulder. Daniel frowned back.

“Think on this, captain. If the Irinen journeys through the break, would they not have maps from the King’s best cartographers? What goods could you deliver from lands past the Reef, and at what fantastic price?”

Ramya Moshe perused a few stalls which contained several things of interest. Most of the other stalls contained nothing but junk, for Mathyr truly seemed to have turned her back on this village, but this one was fascinating. Herbs – dried and fresh – were displayed along the shelves and hanging from the low roof. There were also vials of herb oils. Many of the things available wouldn’t have been found on the island of Pern, but this stall seemed to have it all.

Her dark eyes perused the items, mentally going over the names of the herbs and their uses, whether they be antidotes, healing, or poisonous. She saw so many things she wanted, and she could have simply taken them if she wished. However, the bent old woman tending to her wares seemed to have read her mind. “Ye’ll not be takin’ nothin’ without givin’ a bit first.”

Ramya’s lips quirked into a half smile. She admired a person who could easily see through the crap of the world. “Don’t ye be worrin’, ye ol’ hag. I’ll be givin’ ye yer due.” Fishing in a pouch at her waist, she took a few coins and tossed them onto the counter. Oh, how her father would mourn her language if he had heard her. He’d raised her to speak properly and to behave like a lady should. Well, it was his loss. If he’d just accepted her for whom she was, she would probably still be speaking properly and being well behaved. However, it was a hard world, and a woman alone couldn’t survive like that.

“I’ll be takin’ some allspice oils, a bit o’ th’ aloe, some bay leaves, th’ dried chamomile, some o’ th’ clove, that witch hazel oil right there, and a bit o’ the catnip. Do ye think ye could seal that last request in a tight jar o’ some kind? I got a cat friend, an’ this ain’t fer ‘im.” The old woman’s wrinkled lips turned into an even more crinkled smile.

“Ye mus’ be a healer. I knows one when I see ‘em.” Her voice was rough like old driftwood.

“Aye. Somethin’ like that.” Ramya responded as her elder collected the items she’d requested. She gathered them into her pockets and walked off, leaving the old woman with a bit more money than the herbs had been worth. Luckily, none of her crew mates had been near to witness it, or she’d have gotten hell for a week; well, maybe a few days before she knocked some of their heads together or until they remembered that she’d be the one treating their wounds. Ramya still had a bit of her gentler upbringing, and she showed respect where she felt it was due. Besides, in a town as crappy as this one, the old woman probably didn’t get much money, so she could probably use it.

These herbs would come in handy. She was the ship’s surgeon along with its carpenter. Some of the herbs she’d collected could be made into anesthetics. Sometimes her crewmates could be such bellyachers about pain, but she’d rather not have to hear them bitching, so she would do what she could to ease their agony if she felt it was serious enough which was likely more than the last surgeon had ever done for them. That old fart hadn’t even used healing herbs. His method had been hack-and-slash-and-burn, but he’d met his end soon enough from a bad case of pneumonia. Ramya had learned the ins-and-outs of healing from the physician aboard the merchant ship on which she’d been raised, and the man had clearly been knowledgeable in his craft, so she’d been allowed to take the old surgeon’s place.

These herbs along with the ones she’d collected in their various travels should be able to last for a while if Dennis Greaves, the damned cook, would stop sneaking them from her quarters. Locking them in her chest seemed to do no good as the man could pick locks like few she had encountered. However, she had warned him there would be a nasty surprise in store for him the next time he laid hands on what was hers. Though the man towered over her, he had quailed slightly at her threat. Ramya had a reputation for being one with whom few should mess.

She made her way through the stalls and toward the docks where Fasar’s Hoard was anchored. This ship full of rascals and murderers was her home and had been ever since they’d caught her trying to steal some of their booty right off their ship. She’d been successful with theft from ships in the past, but she’d gotten caught this time. Ramya still wasn’t certain how she’d been caught, for she’d thought she’d done everything right. However, someone had seen her lurking in her beloved shadows, and she’d nearly been shot for her trouble. At what felt like the last minute, they’d spared her and offered her a job in place of death. That wasn’t something she was going to pass up; the lass knew where her priorities lay.

Boarding her beloved home, she went straight below deck to her quarters to pack her new purchases where they belonged. A black cat slunk from the shadows toward her, rubbing affectionately against her boots. His round, yellow eyes eyed her as if he just knew she had something he would like, but he also seemed to get the hint that she wouldn’t be giving it to him. He stretched his way up the black leather of her tall boot, his claws coming from his many toes. This cat wasn’t just any kind of feline; he was rather lucky, for he had an extra toe on each paw, giving him the look of having thumbs. “Go back to yer rats, Triton. Ye’ll be getting’ none o’ what I have.” Despite her chastising him, she couldn’t help but to lightly scratch between his ears, causing his large eyes to close contentedly before he dropped back onto all fours.

She opened her chest of herbs, noting with amusement that her other medicines were still right where she’d left them. It seemed Greaves hadn’t decided to test her threat for a bluff after all. As she was organizing her personal supplies, a gunshot rang out from the deck.

Damnit all… She thought with frustration before grabbing her bag of carpenter’s tools along with a few herbs that would help her clean the wound. Ramya had hoped she wouldn’t be needing any of her herbs for a long while after leaving Pern, but that wasn’t to be. She really shouldn’t have been surprised, and part of her wasn’t, for being on a ship full of pirates meant one kind of scuffle after another.

Her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, and she looked about the deck. The face of one who always seemed to be around was missing. “Billy?” She asked simply. The boy had been a thorn in everyone’s side for far too long, so naturally, he was the first thought when it came to one getting shot.

“Aye.” Greaves had appeared behind her. Apparently, he’d already been on the deck and had seen it all. “Capt’n decided he’d have no more o’ that one’s lip an’ shot ‘im.”

“Dead?” She asked without an ounce of surprise.

“That’d be the way.” The cook replied.

“Capt’n couldn’ta waited until we’d already left port?” Ramya scoffed her question before disappearing below deck once more to place the herbs back into their chest.

It wasn’t long before she reemerged, still carrying her bag of tools. They were the same tools used for carpentry on the ship, and she still had to go over the hull, masts, and yards one more time before they left. They still had quite a journey ahead of them, and trying to cross the Great Break would be useless if the ship wasn’t in top condition. It was a dangerous game they played, but they would have whatever secrets lay within the Irinen for themselves before the bloody Royal Navy could get their hands on them.

It all began, he’d later reflect, with the cock of the hammer. To the scant few around him with ears sharp enough to hear the faint sound, it was reason enough to freeze.

Save for him.

Arrogant child.

Locks of his blonde hair blew gently in his vision, dancing on a passing breeze and obscuring his frigid gaze. Every muscle was tensed his breath deep and slow as he flexed his tan finger quietly on the trigger.

Sacrifices had to be made to ensure order.

Billy Graver, a lad no older than 17, laughed arrogantly at the weapon’s barrel, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the seemingly empty threat. Did he feel so invincible?

“Very nice, Cap’N, but why ye waving that in my face?” His tone was edged with anger, as always. The boy didn’t respect his authority. He didn’t respect any authority. Too many fools sailed the flag under the assumption of freedom. Arch willing, there might be one less.

“Silence.” His own voice was thick, and grave, dragging the eyes of the surrounding crew to the stand-off. Setting his lips to a thin line, the captain examined the boy with a studious eye, before shaking his head slowly. When the young man scoffed and turned to his work again, Captain Ormsby snarled a warning. “Face me boy.”

That sparked the young pirate’s ire, and he turned hot on his heel to glare defiantly into the Captain’s face. “Spit it out, shoot or sod off! I ‘ave work to do, dam-”

The gunshot brought a welcomed moment of silence to the air, his ears ringing from the sudden shot as the boy jerked backwards. A bloody rose blossomed on his forehead, before he careened backwards and the sea rose greedily to swallow the fresh kill. Holstering the smoking weapon calmly, the captain turned to face his crew as the murmurs rippled across the ship. “Fish him out.” No room for negotiations, the men did as he asked. As it should be.

The pirate clenched his hand at his side, digging the tips of his fingers into the fabric that covered his palm. The boy had simply been unlucky. They’d be wiser with their new blood next time. No sense in wasting ammunition on dead weight. Far too many excuses for a clean conscience, but that had faded years ago.

Dull eyes watched his crew, as they worked tirelessly to ready Fasar’s Hoard for the journey to the Great Break. He paused at the thought, the infamous passage wavering his resolve at its mere mention. His only outward sign was a crease across his forehead, small beads of sweat dripping down his brow from the heat of the day.

Swift and purposeful footsteps sounded behind him, the even stride and hollow knock of every step a familiar sound to his ears. “Well, that’s one way to start off a journey, eh Cap’N?” The chuckling form of his first mate came to a stop just behind him, a Cheshire grin stretched across her tanned face. Tobias gave an unseen, weary smile at her words, catching her lone emerald eye watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye. “Yer worryin’ again, eh?”

The woman knew him a little to well, he had to admit. The risk was high, but the reward, the RS Irenin, would make the trek more than worth it, he was certain. What else could cause the Royal Family to react so? A bounty surely lied in the missing ship’s depths, and the Hoard would be the one to claim it if he had any say in it.

“Captain’s job, Miss Cordelia.” She always hated when he used her proper name, and the scowl that crossed her features gave his smile a more natural tone. Still, there would be a time for idle conversation with her, and now wasn’t it. “Let’s ensure the rest are seeing to their jobs, shall we?”

With a mock salute, the First Mate snapped her gaze out to the crew, her eye flicking over the various crew as they went about their work. “Chandler is day-dreaming.” She half-sighed, half laughed as she ran a hand through her short auburn hair at the man‘s far off look. The Captain wasn’t so entertained by the thought of idle hands, and was quick to pass along his orders. “We won’t be the only ones looking. Check all the powder. I won’t have a signal silent gun.”

Miss Cordelia raised her voice to a powerful shout that cracked over the normal hustle of the deck, just one of the many reasons he had chosen the confidant woman as his First Mate. “Mister Chandler! We won’t be the only ones looking for it, so check all the powder before we‘re underway. Cap’N Ormsby doesn’t want a signal silent gun, so get to it while there‘s still a sun in the sky!” The woman ended the order with an impatient sweep of her hand, before turning her eyes to the rest of the crew. “As for the rest of ye lot, put yer backs into it! The treasure ain’t just gonna sit there while ye drift about doing nothin’! Get the cargo below, and check everythin’ twice!”

Tobias chuckled as the woman roughly shoved her way past one of the sailors, shooting the man a look and dragging him off to ‘put him to work’. “Always could light a fire under their bellies, couldn’t you, Mary Alice?”

Turning slowly back to the sea, the pirate stared softly out at the rolling waves, a ghost of a smile spreading across his face. ‘Back out to sea in search of bounty, swiped fresh from the Royal’s pocket…the Navy will be swarming the Break, no doubt, trying to keep it all locked up for themselves.’ Drumming his wrapped hand on the rail, Tobias watched the peaceful circles of the gulls above, letting the sounds of the port wash over him. Turning from the forecastle, and descending towards the Captain’s Quarters, the Captain of the Fasar’s Hoard chuckled to himself at a memory of simpler times. “And so, they set sail, hungry for glory, bounty and adventure on the endless waves of the sea…a good start to a story if I ever heard one.”

Without a glance backwards, he strode cross the deck, and disappeared into his quarters. The Ship Master would need to speak with him before they got underway, and it wouldn’t do for him to keep them waiting any longer.

“This… is the Jolly Passum?” Dyna said with a hint of skepticism in her voice.

The ship looked like it had seen better days. Its hull was patched with foreign wood and each one of its three sails was of different cloth and color. Her crew was no different in appearance. They hadn’t the look of criminals but more so of outcasts, the type that no one else wanted. Chance took a liking to the sort, he thought they were more dependable and more eager to prove their worth. However, his charity hadn’t paid off yet.

“She may not look like much, but she’ll sail with the best of’em!” Bos’n Walter assured her.

“Sail? Is she even safe to stand on?”

“Aye! It was months ago since ol’Erl fell through the hull and broke his leg, but we have that hole plugged good as new,” Walter explained as he ushered Dyna onto the ship. The wood creaked just a hair beneath their weight.

“I’d like a word with the Cap’n if possible.”

“The Cap’n?” Walter repeated with a slight nervous laugh. “Sure,” he moved uneasily across the deck to the Captains’ Cabin door just below the quarterdeck. “I’m certain he be busy preparing for our departure.” He said with a half smile at Dyna before turning to the door and giving it a few good knocks.

“Cap’n!” Walter shouted, parting the door just a crack.

“Shut up!” Came from behind the door.

“You’re in luck, he’s in a good mood.” Bos’n Walter said to Dyna, opening the door fully for her to enter the small corridor that led to the Captains’ Cabin.


Chance gulped down another large sip of rum. He wiped his mouth clean with the sleeve of his coat, and turned back to studying his wall. It was covered with maps, charts, and charcoal sketches of people's portraits and locations.

“Ahem,” he heard a voice clear behind him.

“What?” he said with annoyance and a glance.

Her.

“You!” Chance whipped back around, but not before tearing down a drawing that was of Dyna as he did so. He wasn't sure if she had saw it.

"Nobody knocks anymore? It's a good way to get your head blown off, Miss Cherali. You're lucky... but you already know that. Don't ya?" Chance said seemingly random, but gave Dyna little to no time to respond.

"Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair that was facing the desk he was standing behind.

"Drink?" Chance asked as he moved from his desk to a liquor cabinet at the adjacent wall. He took a quick swig from the bottle he held, and retrieved two glasses before pouring the drinks.

Dyna arched an eyebrow at him, but gave a small smile and responded with a noncommittal "Mhm."

"Here," he handed her a glass brimmed with rum. The outside of the glass smudged with his prints from his finger tips being stained with char coal from his last sketch.

Moving back behind his desk, he took a seat and studied her carefully.

"You look to have more questions than a boy ladybug. So, what's on your mind, Miss Cherali" Chance said, taking a swig of his drink.

Dyna took a sip from the glass, wiping the charcoal that transplanted onto her fingertips onto the side of her skirts.

“An artist, Cap’n Chance?” Dyna said, looking about the room with her eyes but remaining faced toward the captain.

“Only when I drink,” he said gesturing his glass in a toast-like fashion before he took another sip off the top.

Dyna leaned forward, her posture changing from wary interest to strict business. “Bos’n Winner tells me ye got the Jolly Possum set on the RS Irinen,” Dyna said, glancing at the charts on the wall. “He also tells me that somehow you lot know where it is and what be aboard!” She said, setting down the cup in a less than gentle manner.

He watched her curiously, following her stare to the wall behind him. “Bos’n Winner tells you right. The RS Irinen is as good as ours. But if you’re looking for a guarantee, you of all people should know, there be no such thing. What I do have is the last known whereabouts of the vessel, and an idea as to why the Royals are more anxious than a pirate under the gallows to find her before anyone else. You see, Miss Cherali, sometime ago the royal navy looted a major find, and I believe it’s on that ship.”

“Let’s see if I be followin’. You don’t know where it is, but you know where it was. And you don’t know what it got, but you know what it mighta took. And you want me to sail this jonque to wot’s not been sailed before; a place the most darin’ o’ adventurers don’t dare look at. You want me to do all this on a hunch? I might be lucky, but I don’t be stupid.”

“Luck be nothing to do with it. It’s fate, Miss Cherali, fate that you’ll be passing on. That,” he paused and tossed a small pouch of coins onto the desk in front of her. The contents spilt out just a bit when it flopped onto the wooden surface. “and a lot more of that. Are you in or not?”

“Luck has everything to do with it, Cap’n. Two shares and I’m in.”

“Half a share at best.”

“Maybe some other poor soul’s best. Not mine. Two shares.”

The Captain cocked an eyebrow. “Nobody be getting’ two shares but me. One share.”

“Then you can find yourself a nobody to navigate your bloody possum.” Dyna said, and stood to leave.

“A share and a half and if you walk out that door I say good riddance, Miss Cherali.”

Dyna turned to leave anyway, stepping toward the door. She tried to feel if her luck was with her, but something didn’t feel right. She got the notion that if she walked out that door, he’d really let her. She turned back to face him.

“Call me Dyna,” she said with a smile.

If you’re willing to give food, shelter, and payment, you won’t be the last to find the RS Irinen!” Yelled Grintawh as the wind began to settle.

Alphonsus let loose a light chuckle, "Thats it, eh? Deal. But before we find the Irinen, we're gonna need to find some information, and some muscle."

As Alphonsus finished his statement, a rather scruff looking man approached. His physique looked chiseled, and no doubt he wasn’t a man to mess with. Yet, it also seemed as if he hadn’t bathed in quite some time. The dirt seemed to cling to his flesh like algae to the hull of the Golden Albatross. Adding to his overall aura was the fact he was missing an eye. Indeed, Alphonsus was a little intimidated.

“Afternoon, my fine gentlemen. Would either of you happen to be the captain of this vessel? I must admit to overhearing some of your conversation, and was thinking perhaps I might add something to it. As it so happens, I am passing familiar with the Irinen, and might help dispel some rumors.”

Daniel extended his hand for a quick shake from both the men in turn. “Yes, the Irinen. Pardon a moment, my name is Daniel Cotton, and I offer excellent protection for an affordable price. If the Irinan is a bounty you wish to go after, I feel you may require my services. You’ll not find a man as steady with a rope, and certainly none as steady with ordnance. Now, from my time in the Royal Navy, I can tell you that the Irinen is certainly the King’s ship, and he guards its secrets jealously. Of the comrades I’ve had that guarded the thing, all were sworn to absolute secrecy regarding their duties. One thing is certain, however: The Irinen is one of the few ships to ever go through the Great Break!”

“Think on this, captain. If the Irinen journeys through the break, would they not have maps from the King’s best cartographers? What goods could you deliver from lands past the Reef, and at what fantastic price?”

Grintawh laughed, "Ah, it seems you have found your muscle"

Alphonsus looked quite annoyed as he shook Cotton's hand, "If not a little rude," replied Alphonsus. "However, I'll excuse you on account of your laurels. Indeed, I am the captain of this here ship and I am pleasantly surprised by your statements." remarked the merchant.

Alphonsus surveyed the two and came to the conclusion that he would under no circumstances, be the last to reach that ship. Visions of gold and fame danced around in his head. "Gentlemen, welcome aboard."

It had been a long time since Grintawh had last laughed, and it would probably be a long time before he laughed again. Something about this man’s spirit reminded Grintawh of an old friend. “Gentlemen, welcome aboard” said Captain Alphonsus.

“Now if you don’t mind me asking where are my quarters? Are they shared with the rest of the crew?” Grintawh asked, reverting to his more serious tone.

“For now you will be housed with the rest of the crew. Prove your worth, and maybe things will change. Scrappy, show this man to the brig!” said Alphonsus.

Scrappy stepped towards Grintawh and said “Right this way Sir. . .” “Sir Hierdunstrife,” replied Grintawh. “Yes well right this way then sir!” The ship was only a few yards away, the walk was very short. The ship was very large, most ships this big were enlisted in the Royal Navy and it was named The Golden Albatross. It appeared to be a bit old, but not like some other ships Grintawh had seen that were literally falling apart. There were only a few people on the deck, not seeming to do anything except stand around and talk. All the cargo had been unloaded so it seemed like a “Day off” for the crew. Most of them seemed capable enough but he wasn’t sure how well they would fare past the break. I guess that’s where I come in, Grintawh thought but he wasn’t to sure.

The lower levels were quite spacious, with a generous amount of room between each hammock. It seemed Grintawh would have the privacy he desired. Most of the crew seemed to ignore him, a few looking towards him. It seemed a majority of the crew were either sleeping or simply resting in a hammock. Grintawh took his pack and shoved it under his hammock. Scrappy stepped away without saying anything. Grintawh decided he needed some rest after his day of looking for work. It would be a long time until he reached land again and he needed all the good sleep he could get. He was old and weary, but that didn’t stop him from doing as much work as the rest of the crew.

Bors gave a small jump as the First Mate yelled, spinning around quickly towards her . Cordelia always had a piercing voice that got everyones attention, though that and her air of authority wasn't the main reason the crew of Fasar's Hoard followed her orders without question. Bor's couldn't follow someone he didn't respect, and that first night on board when she knocked him flat on his back always brought a grin to his face, and a respectfull tone to his voice when he spoke to her.

"Aye," he responded in his usual, short way, and spun around to finish his work. Grabbing two of the nearest crew who didn't look busy, they started checking all the powder and the kegs they were stored in, searching for holes or cracks, anything that might let water seep in. There is little more fearfull in the midst of a battle that to light off a cannon and be greeted by silence. After this there was checking the ropes holding the cannons, looking over the cabins themselves, and checking the armory for full inventory. All which has already been done, but has been ordered to do again. Bors sighed to himself, tightening the lid on a cask of powder and reaching for another. It seems the captain is a little nervous about this next underway, to him.

"Hell," he thought, " I be more worried if he were no nervous."

The Great Break. The mere mention of the place can make every sailor sober. And they were sailing into it, in search of a rumor, a guess that there was something of importance on this missing Royal ship.

"A fools chase. Even to rid th' Royals of dey precious cargo, dis be suicide. Me guns be of no use against storms n' seas. Erint he'self avoids it in his travels! Sailing where Gods be fearin' to walk, is no........"

Bors continued to mumble under his breath as he worked, his mood growing darker even as his resolve firmed to find the bloody lost ship and return before the trade winds started, bringing storms over the Break that would make even the bravest man cry out to the Gods for help. But he would do it. If any crew and ship was capable of it, this was it. All that was left to do was wait for the captains orders to get under way. The worst part of it all, the waiting. Shaking his head, Bors hefted the last cask of powder and went to work on the cannons.

Ramya Moshe was as hard working as any of the other crew members, maybe even more so than some. Earning her keep was incredibly important to her. Besides, there was no way she was going to start getting lazy when the Great Break lay forebodingly in their futures. It had taken her almost a year to earn her freedom on this ship after her life had been spared, and she didn’t want the rest of her free life to be cut short so soon. If she didn’t earn her keep, on the journey, she’d go the way of the obnoxious Billy Graver – it could even be that she wouldn’t be given a swift death but a slow one with the sharks and the salt water.

She worked efficiently, checking the hull with her keen, dark eyes for any seams that needed more oakum or any holes that needed plugged to prevent leaks. However, this was her third time looking over the hull and running her fingers expertly over the smooth wood. All was perfect according to Bos’n Lux’s requirements. He was, after all, the one who supervised her and had taught her his specifications for her duties.

The loud calls of Mary Alice’s demands for hard work sounded behind Ramya, and while she heard the other woman’s words – the only other woman on board this ship – she paid them no heed. She was already working hard, and the First Mate’s “encouragement” was unnecessary. However, it did seem necessary for some of the others who seemed to think they could just lollygag around the deck to prepare. They were fools to think they wouldn’t have to work hard, especially when it was the Great Break that whispered their names – and maybe even called for their very lives. It was unlikely that all aboard Fasar’s Hoard would survive.


After another hour or so of hard work, all the preparations had been made, and the ship made its way speedily over the choppy waters of the ocean. The crew was determined to reach the RS Irinen before anyone - the Royal Navy o treasure hunters, other pirates, etc. – could reach her. That prize would be all theirs. Ramya could just imagine the glory and the riches that would be bestowed upon her and the rest of the crew. Of course, the Captain would get the majority of the shares, but there would be enough left for the rest of the crew to live comfortably henceforth…

“Regardless of the bounty, sailing into the Great Break is simply insane, Captain! The number of ships who have made it through could be counted on a single hand!” The Sailing Master, a crotchety man whom Tobias had picked up from one of the merchant vessels, slammed his fist upon the hard oak of the pirate’s desk, forcing the clearly disinterested man to look at him. “Any other place, and I’ll see you there, but the Great Break is madness, you and I both know that!”

Flicking his eyes to lock with the younger man’s passionate ones, the cold ice of his own seemed to dull the fire blazing in them. “I didn’t ask an opinion, Mister Mosey. I asked you how to get us there and through.” Mister Mosey swore under his breath, retaking the seat he had nearly kicked over in his fit, settling his gaze on the map of Bram sprawled out across the desktop. After a moment of quiet reflection, the man tapped his hand on the island of Pern.

“Well, we’re currently at the back of the island, around here. Not an idle starting point for this Mathyr damned journey, but ports that will take your kind these days seem to be quiet rare.” Mosey never missed a chance to separate himself from the rest of the crew. Ever. Tobias let it slide, nodding his head slightly as he watched the man mentally trace his fingers along the back half of the island. “It’d be faster no doubt, to go out to sea immediately…however, there is still the matter of the Royal Navy to contend with. They are heading out to the Great Break, no doubt in force to prevent folks such as yourself from seizing the opportunity.”

Tobias let his eyes flick over to the mainland of Bram, gaze resting quietly on Cherom. “You’re right, Mister Mosey…I’d rather not run afoul of an entire armada.” The Sailing Master sighed happily, leaning back in his seat with a look of relief.

“First ounce of sense I’ve gotten out of you, Captain. Where to then? I’m sure the ship lanes between Fasar and Ton are bountiful this time of year.” A chuckle of amusement sounded, as a perplexed look settled across Mister Mosey’s features. “You can’t still be considering the Great Break. It’s suicide, from the risk of the Navy alone!”

Tapping a finger on the map, the Pirate Captain smiled darkly. “I’m more than aware, which is why we won’t run into the Navy.”

“Oh? And how do you plan to avoid them, hm? Divination? Last I checked, you weren’t much of a mystic, Captain.” The Sailing Master rose from his seat, reaching to scoop up the map and put an end to this madness. A tan hand stopped his, pulling the man down low to the Captain’s face.

“We’re just going to know where they’re going. You remember the patrol a few days back, the one we slipped past?” The man paled, seeing where this was going. Tobias released his hand, stroking his chin with a crooked grin upon his face. “The lads need to unwind. Set a course, Mister Mosey.”

“Captain, think for a-”

“That will be all, Mister Mosey.”

With a muttered swear, the Sailing Master turned on his heel and stormed from his quarters, the door shutting with an overly dramatic bang. Tobias flicked his gaze back to the map, drumming his fingers along the worn out parchment. It would be simple, really…cripple the ship, board her, torture the poor sods until they coughed up the information, and plan a course from there.

At best…one man dead, few more wounded. At worst…the creak of the door jolted the Captain from his thoughts, his pistol snapping up to greet the intruder. Emerald danced with mirth, as the woman casually strode across the chamber, before casually wrapping her hand around the front of the gun. “Already shot th’one, Tobias.”

He blinked once, glancing to the gun, surprised to see she was indeed right. “Remind me again how you always know everything?” She laughed, hopping up onto the side of his desk with a wink.

“Woman’s intuition.” The pair sat in companionable silence for a few moments, before she sighed, knocking a knuckle against his forehead. “Livin’ in yer head will just kill ye faster, Tobias. Live out here a little, eh?” She leaned low, grinning that grin just in front of his face. “Ye might find ye like it…”

Her breath feathered his face, and he almost found himself taking up the unspoken offer. It had been sometime… “Miss Cordelia.” She stiffened, eye narrowing in annoyance as he cleared his throat(and mind). “Mister Mosey has his course, please get us underway.”

Rising fluidly, she fixed her hat for a moment, lone eye watching him with some strange cocktail of emotion he had not the time nor will power to even attempt to decipher. Mary Alice wasn’t something understood. She was how she was. “Right away, Cap’n.”

Without another word, she crossed his quarters, pulling the door open with a little more force than necessary. “Alice.” His voice caused her to turn, half surprised at the mention of her first name instead of her fancy one. “I still have some of that mead from the merchant raid a few months back.” A hopeful eyebrow raised on her face. “Get us underway, and tonight, we’ll have a toast for success.”

She grinned wide, tipping her hat in agreement, before her voice boomed over the crew. “Hoist anchor! Ready the sails!” Swears and more orders thundered over the crew, and Tobias found himself shaking his head.

With that dealt with, now was the time to bring his plan together…an ambush would work best. Likely at night…it’d be hell for the cannons to hit, but they weren’t looking to sink. Accuracy and stealth. The Captain nodded his head, running a hand through his loose hair before rummaging about for something to tie it with.

A sudden lurch signalled the beginning of their journey, as Fasar’s Hoard slowly pulled herself from the port, bodies of the crew hurrying to their jobs as quickly as the alcohol would let them. When Tobias emerged from his quarters, he was pleased to see them well underway, sun high in the sky and beating down on his neck.

The Golden Albatross. For a moment, something about albatrosses sparked in Danial's mind, but he couldn't remember for the life of him what it was. He just knew that the ship sounded like some kind of fancy pub he would have been kicked out of uptown.

Daniel's foul mood persisted until he set a foot on the deck. Suddenly, everything seemed so right again. The smell of that salt air and the screech of gulls, the creak of the rigging above him. He had been too long from the sea, and his shoulders fell as an enormous weigh was lifted from them. For the first time in days, he relaxed.

Thomas stared at him through the ruin that was his right eye.

Of course Daniel couldn't rest. He stared back, not betraying anything with his face, until Thomas turned away and walked down into the ships galley. The withered little man and the Captain were talking about something now, but he had missed his chance to listen. He frowned at his brother as he left, and asked the captain politely about quarters.

Following Grintawh down into the brig, he noticed that the wiry man carried a chain as well, with a man and a woman. He didn't know how they had died, but they looked wet, so Daniel assumed drowned. He probably hadn't killed them directly then, but had felt responsible for their deaths. It wasn't really any of Daniel's business, so he left it alone.

Some of the crew sneered at Daniel as he walked into the brig, and snickered as he picked a hammock quietly for his own. He placed his effects into his hammock and tied the rucksack that held them shut against the canvas. Glancing over, he noticed Grintawh was already asleep and snoring. The man sounded like a sick walrus while he slept, but Daniel envied his restfulness. He wasn't exactly sure when he had last slept, and he certainly was going to check the ship's armaments before he had any peace of mind.

A quick walk abovedecks brought him to the gun batteries, two large 24-pounters and eight six-pounder cannons. This ship wouldn't be sinking any others anytime soon, that was for sure. That was probably just as well, though. Most of the strategy for merchant engagements consisted of various flavors of running away.

Running his fingers quickly around the inside of the cannon barrels, he checked for rust and was pleased to see there was none. The large guns were impeccably well-maintained, though some of the six-pounders could use some slight maintenance. He quickly checked the breeches of the cannons and groaned. The wadding was all wrong. He would have to redo all of the cannons if they were to fire straight at all.

Grumbling about sailors not knowing what they were doing, Daniel went to the hold to find something he could pack the cannons with. He had to find the powder storage anyway, and now was as good a time as any. This promised to be a busy voyage.

Bors slammed his cup down on the table, wiping away foam from his lips as cheers and yelling suddenly rang out all around him. The man across from him finished his own mug of ale and also slammed it down, though a little more angrily. He glared across the table as the rest of the crew continues laughing and patting the winner on the back.

"Das th' seventh one, Bors! Mayhap you thruly can outdrink th' crew!" Jack said laughingly, his speech slurred as he grabbed Bors' shoulder. Probably more to support himself than in congratulations.

"Aye" he responded, feeling a warm feeling settling into him, both from the alcohol and a little bit of pride. It is the second night since they left port, and now that everything was put into order for the journey and the crew was settling into its standard routine, they were all celebrating in the berthing. 'Celebrating", Bors thought, 'Or trying to forget our destination.' Along with the personal stashes of rum most of the crew had snuck on board, the captain had been generous with the Ale rationing for tonight, which didn't surprise him anymore. The captain always seemed to know what the crew was thinking or planning, and Bors would swear on his life that he actually cared, even if just a little, for his crew. Which, for a pirate vessel, was almost unheard of. Perhaps that is why this crew has survived longer and prospered more than most other pirate ships. Bors shook his head, clearing his mind of these thoughts.

'Now is th' time fer drinkin', no thinkin. I'll bet even th' captain is having his own private drink, wit the First Mate,' he thought grinning to himself. He stood suddenly, and pounded his opponent on the shoulder with a grin. The man's face lost a little of its anger, and he raised his mug in a salute. The rest of the crew cheered, handing around the money from bets that were made.

"NOW! Who be the next victim, eh?" Bors suddenly yelled out. Most of the crew jumped and stared at him, wide-eyed as it became silent. They knew him as someone who didn't speak much, accept to those he was close with, and had never heard him yell other than in battle. But, it would seem that alcohol changed every man. He looked around the room, his grin widening.

"Is dere no one?" he asked. The crew suddenly recovered and the shouting started up again, challenges and bets being made. Bors suddenly spotted a lone figure leaning on the bulkhead, watching it all with a small smile and sipping on her own drink. He suddenly threw his arm out, pointing at Ramya and yelling to be heard.

"How 'bout you, lass? There be rumors of you drinkin' any man under da table, and even th' First Mate! Care to wager a lil wit me?" Bors suddenly laughed. "Aye, and we all be wantin' ya ta taste yer own vile drink you make for our own hangovers."

Ramya smiled at him over her mug and opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly the door to the berthing crashed open and the crewman on watch stumbled in.

"Th-there's a ship! On the horizon! I-it has the forward and aft lamps, s-so maybe a frigate or, or..." He was interrupted as Bors ran past him to the upper decks, and he heard Ramya behind him.

"Did you inform the Captain?" she demanded of the man, and his face went white and he started stuttering. Ramya growled in frustration and immediately headed off to the Captain's cabin. Bors climbed up the port side ropes and searched till he saw the dim lights in the distance. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating. When he opened them again the lights had zoomed in a little closer, and a little clearer. He concentrated on them, searching for lamp positions or an outline, anything that could tell him more about the ship. He drew in a quick breath as he recognized it, and felt an old anger slowly start to build in him.

"Master Gunner. Report." Bors heard the Captain's voice behind him and closed his eyes, releasing his Sight. He turned and dropped down to the deck, facing the captain.

"Aye, sir. Royal ship. Frigate. 8-9 miles." He said, feeling his buzz fading and falling back into his quieter nature.

"Have we been spotted?"

"Soon sir, no movement yet. Headin' same way."

Captain Tobias nodded, looking thoughtful. He seemed to come to a decision and turned towards the First Mate.

"Miss Cordelia, make the crew ready for battle. Shift heading to intercept. Inform me when you are done."

Mary Alice gave a small bow and turned towards the crew, immediately yelling orders. The crew responded with experienced speed and ease, arming themselves and hurrying towards towards the stations they were given. Bors came above deck strapping on his sword belt and tucking his pistols away, unconsciously checking his bag for extra flint and ammo and grabbing his rifle. He had modified it to work with his special flint and powder for quicker reloading, a trick invented by his father.

"Master Gunner, if ye are done taking yer time to pretty yerself up, i would be ever so grateful if ye can do yer job, and make th' cannons ready. Port side, if ye please." The First Mate said, he voice dripping with sarcasm as she glared at him. Bors flushed as hurried over to the guns, yelling orders to light the wics and making sure every gun was manned. He heard the First Mate mutter under her breath as she stalked off, but was only able to catch the words "daydreamer" and "string up". He shuddered to himself, cursing himself for getting on her bad side. Life was always harder with miss Cordelia angry at you.

Bors did one final check of all guns, satisfied with the preparations. "Guns manned and ready, ma'am" he yelled over his shoulder. "Aye" came the curt response from the First Mate, and she headed off to inform the Captain. Bors took the time to call up his Sight again, and studied the Royal frigate. They were close to 4 miles away now and he could see the ship turn its broadside towards the Fasar's Hoard, in preparation. They would be ready, but so would the pirate crew. Tense silence lay over the deck as they maneuvered into place, slowly drawing closer to the frigate. Bors studied it intensely, his sight allowing him to see crew movement slightly. Suddenly he spotted the man standing behind the cannons on the frigate raise his cutlass, and Bors turned quickly and nodded to the Captain.

"COVER!" yelled the First Mate, and a second later puffs of smoke appeared on the sides of the frigate, followed by a boom and splashes in the water about 100 yards in front of the ship. Bors grinned to himself, "They panicked, shot early. Amateurs, never been in combat.'

Focusing his Sight, he went to the forward gun adjusting it slightly. He walked to every gun, fine tuning them so that when the order was given, the first shot would be accurate. He looked over towards the captain, who nodded. "Mr. Chandler, fire when ready." Bors grinned again, then waited. 20 yards.....10.....5.....

"FIRE!"

All guns went off, and he quickly focused his Sight in again. '5 shots,' he thought to himself with a grimace, 'only 5 hit. Ale must be affecting me.' The frigate quickly answered, most shots hitting the water around the ship, though a few crashed into or bounced off the hull. Bors heard the Captain order course change, and knew he only had time for maybe 2 more volleys before they got in rifle range, then boarding.

"CLEAN! POWDER! PACK! BALL! PACK! FIRE!" Bors yelled out orders to the crew, and they responded quickly. Another volley passed between the ships, and the damage this time was more serious. He could hear the screams as a cannon ball crashed into a crewman, the sounds of wood breaking and the cries of the injured. He heard the captain ordering a crew below decks to deal with a hole around the waterlevel, patching it and boarding it up as quick as possible. Bors gave out his last orders for the final volley, then ordered most of the gun crew to arm up with rifles and pistols.
The Royal ship was very close now, maybe 40 yards. Bors could see the men on board, and the anger in him built even higher at the site of those crisp uniforms and shining rank insignia. His site quickly let him spot the captain of the ship, let him see the scorn on his face as he looked at the pirate ship, and men he thought were no better than dirt. Bors rage built up till he could barely stand it, and a growl escaped his lips.

"Rifles! FIRE!" came the order from the First Mate.

Bors let out a roar of pure rage on dropped to a kneel, concentrating his sight and gun on the Royal captain. He ignored the sounds around him, the sounds of guns firing on both sides and of the screaming of the wounded, and focused only on the enemy captain, then squeezed the trigger. He saw the bullet hit, just below the left eye. Saw the blood spray and the Royals First Mate panic. He grinned and let out an almost childish laugh of glee, then turned towards other targets. The crew of the Fasar's Hoard and the Royal frigate were stringing up lines to board, but Bors didn't care, he never boarded anyways. He just kept reloading, and firing. Each shot took down an enemy. Each trigger pull killed another Royal bastard. He didn't notice the crew swing over to the frigate, didn't hear the roar as they yelled a battle cry to unnerve the enemy. All he saw were targets. Royals that deserved to die, each and every one of them.

The Jolly Possum sailed north away from Pern with the first morning light, due to the orders of the Sailing Master. Dyna walked the deck, trying to learn as quickly as possible the nature of the ship and its crew. It was a smaller crew, sixteen hands counting herself and not the captain. Speaking of, she had not seen Captain Chance all morning. The Quartermaster was out keeping eye on the crew, and gave her a devious glare as she had various sailors take the helm while in the easy waters of a crisp Pernian morning. She glared back at the Quartermaster, daring him to challenge her, but he disappeared below deck.

As she let the sailors control the helm she said little, mostly observing the sailors to see how they acted when put in a stressful situation. Some were overly cocky, others too afraid to touch the damn wheel. After a time, she would shout out a random order, nothing easy. Whether she asked them to turn hard to starboard, or aim leeward, or hove to, few could manage the task at hand. Not many had the intuition and response time of an appropriate helmsman, but she couldn’t always be at the helm.

Sailor Carmichael was an older bloke who must have been sailing most his life, for when she shouted “Hard Alee!” He managed to (with the help of his fellow sailors successfully manning the rigs) turn the ship hard to starboard with as much grace as one could muster in the situation. The boat heeled as it was turned leeward east and against the oncoming wind.

Dyna shook his hand. “Congratulations, Helmsman. Ye got what I need to get us through that break.” Carmichael put a hand on the wheel, and stared out at the sea. Dyna allowed him that moment of triumph, the moment any man who’s won something feels directly after his accomplishment. It was only a moment though, for they had to move. “Get this thing about, Helmsman. We’re going west, then north.”

She had lain out her map and compass, as well as her astrolabe. These tools would be almost useless to them as no one had ever documented sailing through the Break. But Dyna had an eye for glory, and she was determined to not only sail the course, but map it too. Looking down at the islands drawn on the map, Dyna felt a sudden wave of sea sickness as she had never felt before. She had been on ships all her life, and the shakiest her legs got was going back ashore. She stood up straight, put her hand to her head and forced the queasiness away. “Don’t be getting’ soft now,” she muttered to herself.

Suddenly the captain emerged from his quarters, Quartermaster following behind with a smirk. She did not like that man.

“Master Dyna, What’s wit’ all this?” He gestured vaguely toward Carmichael. “Where are you leading us?”

“I had to find me a trustworthy helmsman, Captain. And I be leading you to the Break, West and North. Reports of Naval ships north of here, Sir, and we not be a fighting ship.” She glanced around. While most the sailors had weapons of sort, there were less than twenty hands on the ship. They could hardly fend off a whaling boat with these numbers. “Surely Quartermaster… eh, surely the Quartermaster agrees.”

The Quartermaster was probably a foot and a half taller than her, and five shades darker. His smirk formed into a scowl. “Angel. Quartermaster Angel. And I think ye underestimate the crew,” he said in a deep baritone.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Angel…? Nevermind. What be yer orders, then, Captain, if you doubt the direction of your Sailing Master?” She said.

“Keep North. We got information suggests the waters west of here can’t be sailed.”

“The whole bloody Break can’t be sailed! We got a better chance dodgin’ rocks than Naval cannons!”

“The Possum’s quick, when she needs to be. We go north, Master Dyna.”

Dyna’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t anger at being overruled, though she was certainly angry. It was her luck. As she ordered Carmichael hard to port, she could feel it leaving her. Going north was ill advised, and she feared her Captain was being fed false information. She took out her flask and drank a shot from it, only to find herself heaving her insides overboard. She looked at the flask disgustedly, and tossed it to Carmichael, who was eyeing her with wariness. “Yer reward for good work and not speakin’ a word,” she ordered. Carmichael nodded. If she caught some sort of sickness, it was only a matter of time before she was found out and probably marooned somewhere…if Chance were a kinder fellow.

Ramya Moshe sipped her drink slowly as she watched the crew drink heartily, celebrating the very idea that they would soon acquire whatever treasure was aboard the Irinen. A dark feline curled around her feet every so often as the humans drank. Of course, the alcohol would help them forget what they had to cross in order to achieve this fanciful goal. Perhaps this latter thought was what caused her to sip her ale slowly, for it definitely wasn’t for taste. This sort of spirit was meant to be drunk quickly, for its purpose was to induce drunkenness. She didn’t want to forget; she wanted to be ready for all things. A single cup wouldn’t harm her. Hell, a few cups wouldn’t, for her tolerance was as high as any man’s, if not higher, but she wanted to be as in her right mind as possible.

She cheered with the rest as Bors Chandler out-drank his opponent and laughed as her drunken superior, Jack Lux, congratulated him with a distinct slur to his words. When all bets were paid, she heard him shout for his next “victim.” None took the challenge, not even Ramya, but when he called out their cowardice, a roar of voices began to increase in the enclosed space as men encouraged their friends to take on the Gunner.

Then he saw him point toward her and called her out. The rumors weren’t untrue. The only person on this ship she’d found she couldn’t out-drink so far was the Cook, Dennis Greaves. That man just didn’t seem to absorb the alcohol he consumed. In fact, he’d been the only one on the crew who had never come to her for her special “drink” to cure hangovers.

A twinkle lit Ramya’s dark eyes as she casually continued to sip her ale. “Ye wound me fragile feelings, Chandler. Just the other day ye was tellin’ me ‘bout how I must’ve been sent by the gods themselves as you choked down my ‘vile’ concoction. If ever there’s a lot as fickle as ye men, I’ll eat me tongue!” She tossed back the rest of her drink. As she was about to accept his challenge, her lips parted to speak, but she was interrupted before the words could leave her.

The crewman who had crashed through the door looked distressed but excited as he related the tale of his spotting a ship. She rushed toward him. Triton streaked passed her like a shadow being chased by light and disappeared. “Did you inform the Captain?” She demanded. When she was stressed or excited, her words became proper again just as she’d been raised to speak. Two years with pirates hadn’t changed the fact that it was more natural for her to speak like a lady than like a rogue, but none ever seemed to notice because they were all in their own states of mind that made them unaware of anything other than the potential battle.

He began to stammer his words, trying to make excuses, but without waiting for him to finish, she growled irately and shoved roughly passed him toward the Captain’s cabin. She wrapped her knuckled on the door loudly before thrusting open the door without waiting for an invitation. Mary Alice was there with him. She nodded to the First Mate before turning toward her leader. “Captain, a ship was spotted. It’s still too far to be sure, but it’s believed to be a frigate.” Ramya’s searched his face and noticed that while he moved into readiness, he looked unsurprised. Could it be that he already knew they would encounter a ship this far out to sea, and he simply hadn’t told his crew?

Irritation filled her at that, but she stuffed it down. Now was not the time to feel anger. She would have plenty of time to do so and to examine that irritation later. She stepped aside as Ormsby and Mary Alice swept passed her, and she followed them onto the deck. She heard the Master Gunner’s report and heard the call for battle. Ramya’s pistol, scimitar, and dagger were all on her person, but she rushed below deck to grab the jar of what was left of her drink for hangovers. She’d prepared it yesterday, and she’d saved what remained which was lucky considering they were all about to fight and a little under half the crew was wasted. She encountered the Boatswain first and tipped the contents into his mouth. His face paled as he swallowed the contents, but he didn’t voice any complaints. “Hurry and pash dish te the rest of de crew and report teh me.” The slur was still slightly on his lips, but he would be fine in a matter of moments. The stuff she made was powerful and while it was great for hangovers, it was fantastic for sobering people in the peak of their drunken stupors as well.

Ramya ran over the boat, giving a sip to each drunken crewman, for a sip was really all that was required. She encountered Bors and gave him some as well. There wasn’t any left by the time she was done, so she just tossed the jar aside as she ran below deck to meet with Lux. They prepared their maintenance tools, made sure everyone was armed, and waited. Then they heard the first boom and a great splash near the ship. The Navy had shot first and a bit early at that. Imbeciles…

She could hear the yells of command upstairs on the deck, and suddenly, a large hole splintered the wood, the culprit smashing into a crewman who didn’t have time to scream before the force took his life. Water began to pour through the hole, and she and Lux quickly moved to patch it even as the Captain made the order to do so. Salty liquid soaked through her clothing, but that mattered not.

Just as they finished the patch, the call to take up arms was sent through the crew. They would be boarding soon. Ramya’s heart beat faster beneath her breast. “Go. They’ll need you, Moshe.” The Boatswain gave her a meaningful look, and she understood. He was one of few on the ship that knew what she could do. Sure, she was good with her man-made weapons, but her shadow-play was superior to even that. He had seen through them once upon a time and had understood what it meant, and that latter part was probably the only reason she was still alive today. She was indebted to him.

Ramya rushed onto the deck, preparing to board as someone took her place next to Lux. The rifles went off, firing at the Royal Navy ship. Even though it was night, she saw several uniforms fall, one even falling overboard into the churning waves. She helped to string up lines to aid in the crew’s boarding the frigate as her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She loved being a part of the crew of Fasar’s Hoard, and she had grown fond of the scallywags with whom she had been forced to associate. However, battles were never easy. One mistake or even a bit of bad luck or disfavor with Arch could cost a person her or his life. Back in the beginning of her joining the pirates, she had been badly wounded and almost killed, but just as her life was about to be taken, her assailant had been shot dead, and she’d become unconscious. When she had awakened, the battle had been over, and she’d been alive, but infection had almost taken her life a second time. She still didn’t know how she was still alive, but she had been more careful ever since.

Finally, they were near enough to board, and a great battle cry took the crew as men swung over the enemy ship. Ramya’s voice was silent, and even as she concentrated on something different, she was aware enough of her surroundings to see that the Captain’s form was the first to cross the water to the other ship. The she-pirate didn’t close her eyes, but she took a steadying breath as she gripped her line tightly and ran. As she moved, the shadows seemed to move with her as if they were trying to capture her and drag her into an eternal darkness. They bled from their original spots after her, but if one looked closely at her, they would be able to see that the shadows were not trying to capture her so much as she was beckoning them to her as a friend.

She swept over the churning waters, suspended only by a rope until she was far enough that momentum would carry her the rest of the way. Her fingers released the line, and she hit the deck of the other ship, rolling into it as her still-wet clothes clung tightly to her body. The shadows that had followed her acted as a cloak through which she could see but few others would note. None looked her way, so absorbed were they in fighting her crew mates.

A shadow rose to the side of one man, shaped roughly like a human, and the movement caused the navy crewman to turn toward it and shoot. With his back now turned toward her, Ramya snuck up behind him, drawing her dagger from her boot, and stuck him hard in the side before moving quickly and getting his neck after that. She hated bringing death to anyone, but she knew it was occasionally necessary. Royal Navy sailors had a tendency to make it necessary.

The shadows around her flickered as he fell, and a sailor took a shot at her. The bullet grazed her left ear and cheek, causing a thin stream of blood to trail from the wound, but she was otherwise unharmed. She chastised herself for being careless and took aim with her own pistol. Her finger squeezed the trigger, and the bullet made its way into his throat. From that point onward, she worked to simply incapacitate and to not kill. She didn’t want more blood on her hands. A pistol whip here, a leg stab there, an occasional shot in the arm: those sufficed for incapacitation until she could knock men unconscious.

She crept over the deck, wounding and incapacitating as she went. However, as she lifted her sword against a particularly large Royal Navy sailor, she abruptly turned and knocked the weapon from her hands. She could see he was blind in one eye – the side on which she had been sneaking, actually – and his massive hand gripped her wrist like a vice. In seconds, she was spun and clasped tightly, her back to his chest. His muscles felt like steel. This was definitely not how she’d wanted this to go. She slashed with her dagger, her left hand still immobilized, but he quickly secured her free wrist as well and moved it so both were gripped in the same hand. “Women should never be permitted upon ships.” He spat, his words properly spoken like a true gentleman of high society. Her boot connected with him, right above his knee, but her angle was too awkward to cause any real advantage for herself. “Normally, I am quite opposed to harming women, but as you do not seem to be a real woman, I shall make an exception.”

She fought him harder at those words. She was quick, and she was strong, but this guy was stronger, and without her weapons, she could do nothing. She suspected that the blindness in his right eye had enabled him to have stronger senses, so he likely heard her or detected her presence in some other way. It was a shame that shadows couldn’t do much more than trick the eyes, or she would have called them all to her side. As it was, when he had captured her, the shadows had fallen away from her as if to save themselves. “As you’re not a real man, I do have some reservations about harming you, but I’ll make an exception for that, too.” She was bluffing, and he likely knew it. He had her very well secured, and he had his own knife poised at her throat. Was he toying with her? Why didn’t he just get it over with and kill her?

“You are quite amusing.” The tip stuck just enough into the flesh of her throat that it stung, and a bead of blood slipped over her lightly tanned flesh. “Perhaps I will not kill you. Perhaps, when we wipe out that terrible disgrace on humanity that you call your crewmates, my men and I can have some fun with you.” His voice sickened her. It still retained all the gentility of high society, but his intention was clear enough. Her dark eyes were filled with fire, not fear, as she looked around the ship for any of her mates that could help her, but they were all too far away or locked too fiercely in their own battles. Then her eyes moved to Fasar’s Hoard, and she saw him take aim, the Master Gunner.

“You won’t live long enough to try it.” She yelled and heaved herself over to one side just as the shot went off. His blade dug deeper into her neck, but it was just a flesh wound compared to what could have happened. The larger man jerked backward and fell to the deck floor, a neat hole right between his brows seeping blood. Ramya would be damned if Bors Chandler wasn’t the best shot she’d ever encountered. She lifted her hand in gratitude as she retrieved her weapons and gathered her shadows to her once more to continue the battle. From her perspective, Ramya’s people were overtaking the Royal Navy scum, and she was going to help them continue toward victory even if she truly did die. Arch had not yet abandoned her, and she wasn’t going to squander his favor so soon.

“The crew certainly knows how to celebrate.” She smiled softly at him, a far cry from her usual but a more than welcome sight to the captain. It was rare enough that he had a quiet moment with her anymore.

“I may have overlooked their drinking habits for the night.” She laughed, happily raising her glass to clink against his own, gently sipping the drink as her eye watched his own for something. “What’s so funny?”

“Ye certainly know how to charm a lady, getting the entire crew shit faced so they don’t interrupt.” Another roar of cheers came echoing up, and Tobias tried to stifle his own laughter, only for a playful knock on the skull to jar it loose. “No need to be so proper round me, “Cap’n”. Known ye to long fer ye to pull that on me.”

“You make us sound old, Mary Alice…I’d like to think I still have some of my youth left.”

“Yer ancient t’most pirates, Tobias. How many can say they’re as old as ye?” Her smile had lost its amusement, her fingers gently tracing the rim of her glass, lone eye staring at her reflection softly. He said nothing, his lips settling into a grim line as his own thoughts took a darker turn. “Lookit me, sinking the joy faster than a frigate on the reef.” A fake grin spread on her face, and she topped her glass quickly before downing it all. “C’mon, we’re gonna enjoy ourselves, aye?”

Raising his own glass, Tobias opened his mouth to speak before he paused, ears twitching as he strained to listen.

It was quiet. Completely quiet.

That alone signalled something was wrong. When was the crew ever quiet on drinking nights? His eyes flicked over her shoulder, narrowing on the door as the feint echo of footsteps grew louder and louder. Dammit, Mosey, you couldn’t have waited an extra Ton-damned day? Mary Alice seemed to sense his thoughts, rising fluidly to glare at the door as the heavy knocked sounded. Ramya pushed it open without hesitation, and the captain rose from his seat with a raised brow.

“Captain, a ship was spotted. It’s still too far to be sure, but it’s believed to be a frigate.” Bastard always got his job done. He rose in a single fluid motion, pulling his tied pistols around his neck with a jerk of his hand. Mary Alice placed her hat back in its proper place atop her head, fingers dancing anxiously towards the holster on her hip. He moved past the women quickly, stepping out into the inky black and fixing his gaze on the unknown ship.

“Master Gunner. Report.”

"Aye, sir. Royal ship. Frigate. 8-9 miles."

"Have we been spotted?" Arch help them if they had been.

"Soon sir, no movement yet. Headin' same way."

Perfect. An ambush was still possible. They’d need to get as many of the crew alive though…early boarding would be ideal, so long as the crew could keep their blood lust in check. The crew would be stuck battling more of the soldiers, but there wasn’t a crew he’d trust with the task more than this lot. Not the best of plans, but it’ll do.

"Miss Cordelia, make the crew ready for battle. Shift heading to intercept. Inform me when you are done." She wasted no time, bowing before whipping the crew into action with a flurry of orders. Captain Ormsby silently walked to the forecastle, eyes narrowing silently on the frigate in the distance. This was always the worst part. The waiting. The dreaded still before the first shot was to be fired; as everyone raced to do everything they could to survive the coming storm.

Let it be quick.

“Guns are ready, Cap’n.” He didn’t respond, turning on his heel and striding with purpose towards the main cannons. The quick nod from Bors signalled the incoming barrage, and Mary Alice wasted no time ordering the crew. “COVER!” He didn’t flinch as the blast sounded, the volley falling short even as he watched his own crew brace slightly for the impact that never came.

“Mr. Chandler, fire when ready.” The volleys blasted between the two ships, but the Hoard wasn’t here for a naval battle, no matter how sure he was they could best the unfortunate soldiers that cross their path. “Mister Mosey!” His voiced thundered over the crack of cannons, and the Sailing Master jumped at the sudden shout. “Boarding distance.” The man paled for a moment, before nodding hastily.

As the Hoard pulled in closer, the shattering of wood and the painful scream as a cannonball carried one of the crew to a watery grave. “Patch the hole!” A redundant order at best, Boatswain Lux knew what he was doing…unless the cannon had taken his life.

The though was dismissed with a wave of his hand, the final volley splintering around them as the crew took up their rifles. A slow sweep with his eyes found him the Navy Captain, memorizing the man’s spot for the boarding. If anyone knew anything…it’d be him.

The crack of the rifles split his ears, but the jerking head of the captain caught him off guard. “Bloody hells! String up the ropes for boarding! Alive, you damn dogs! As many as you can alive!” The crew sprang to action at his command, catching the burning fury lurking beneath his calm façade. Nothing could ever go bloody right, could it? He clenched his bandaged hand, mentally cursing the afflicted limb with all he had, eyes narrowing on the panicking soldiers.

The First Mate handed him his rope, quietly worrying her lip as she watched him prep for boarding. She was strong, stronger than most of the crew, Tobias was very well aware. For a brief moment, the battle faded, and he gave her the strongest smile he could muster, a spark of joy lighting in his breast when she smiled back. “Nothing risky, I swear. Only a bunch of wobbly boys with guns.”

She pounded a fist on his chest, as the ships lurched closer to each other, pellets tearing past as they spoke. “You damn well come back, Cap’N. This sorry lot needs yer bloody arse to lead, aye?”

He nodded, the humourless smile fading into grim determination. “Stay safe.” His cutlass sang as he pulled it free, pointing the glinting edge towards the frigate. “Give no quarter and ask for none, lads!” Leaping from the railing, he savoured the brief feeling of weightlessness, wind rushing over his body, tearing at his coat. Adrenaline surged into his blood, the vicious cry of his crew hot on his heels, the Royals face’s a mixture of fear and loathing.

It was time to fight. Releasing the rope, Captain Ormsby dropped like a demon into the thick of the enemy. They shot the second his boots hit wood the deck, but he expertly rolled forward, two soldiers catching the bullets in his stead. He rose with a flourish that left a man missing a finger and another gasping through a bleeding throat.

The blows came from every direction, but Tobias weaved expertly through his assailants, smashing the pommel of his sword across one man’s face, only to turn and parry another towards his pirates. Drawing his boarding dagger, he swept into the thick of the battle, fighting his way to Quartermaster Renshin, who was having a bit of trouble dealing with a trio of soldiers who had taken to ambushing the smaller man.

“Renshin! I need to find the First Mate!” Sparks danced from his blade as he exchanged blows with one of the men, lashing out with his dagger at the man’s exposed side, only for another to come and block the strike, forcing the captain onto the defensive.

“Aye! Shit must’ve ducke’ inta de Cap’n’s Quarters!” The Quartermaster, a smaller agile man they had met on a longer sailing trip east many years back, leapt expertly from the path of his assailant, driving his knife into the man’s throat, before stabbing him another time in the chest to ensure he was dead. “Go! We can handle de rats!” Renshin always talked way too damn fasted.

“Try and keep some! I need information!”

“Shutupandgo!” Ducking under a decapitating blow, Tobias drove his pommel into the soldier’s gut, before cracking him upside the skull with the blunt edge of his dagger, seconds before Renshin leapt on the other like a wolf and sent the man rolling to the decks.

“Aye.” Storming up the steps, Tobias slipped past the countless sword fights and found himself standing before the overly ornate doors of the Captain’s Quarters. Mine sure as hell ain’t that nice… Pulling one of his pistols up from around his neck, he fired a round straight through the polished wood, before a powerful kicked splintered through what was left.

The room was dark, the lamps all snuffed out by panicked hands. Stepping cautiously through the ruined door way, Tobias quietly examined the dark, searching for anything that would give the hidden man away. “Come on out, and we can talk like civilized men, aye?” Silence. “Are you content to let your men die in vain? I will find you. The ship is crawling with my men, and I can easily have one of them bring me a torch once we’ve mopped up your boys.”

He stepped further in, the gentle creak of the wood a strange companion to the roaring battle outside. “Where the hells are y-” A flash of light to his left, and he jerked his blade up to parry. His arm stung, the blade digging into the flesh, but it was far better than the alternative. “Sneaky little fucker, aren’t you?” His fist lashed out, cracking against the man’s skull and sending him staggering back into the dark.

The First Mate rubbed his face, feeling the bridge of his nose only to find it broken. “Fucken’ sea rats.” The man wasn’t big, an inch or two shorter than Tobias, but his knife glinted with Tobias’s own blood, all the proof he needed that the man was plenty dangerous. “Get the fuck of my ship.” A second knife flew from the hidden hand, the captain jerking hard to the right to dodge the projectile. The Mate lunged forward, their blades clashing in a series of rapid parries and counters, neither giving any ground nor gaining. The fast strikes of his knife proved too fast even for the skill of the Captain, and the blade bit across his arm once again, the bandaged limb falling free from its protective coverings.

Tobias lashed out again, striking the man across the chin, before planting his dagger straight through the boot of his foot. Howling in pain, the mate couldn’t stop the pirate from ripping the knife from his hand before driving it through his other foot, pinning him in place. Fury billowed in his eyes, as the Captain grabbed the screaming man with gnarled fingers, smashing his head against the wood, and then dragging him back to eye level. “Tell me the Navy’s orders! How are you going after the Irinen?” Spit was his answer, and the captain snarled before striking him across the face, relishing the feeling of the man’s nose breaking once more under his knuckles. “Fine. This was your only chance.”

The cutlass pierced easily through his shoulder, all that was needed to keep him pinned like the trapped rat he was. Striding back out through the door, he over looked his crew and pride swelled in his chest at their victory. Most of the soldier’s lay dead, but those that remained had already been secured and Renshin sat steps away, his hatchet at the ready should they try anything he didn’t approve of.

“Well done lads!” Tobias’s voice boomed over the two ships, his eyes alight as he walked into the thick of his men. “We showed those navy dogs who truly owns the seas, didn’t we?! And once we’re done with this lot, we’ll know exactly what their whole damn fleet is going to do!” Climbing atop the barrel, he raised his blackened fist high into the air, the men roaring with approval at his words. “The Irinen is as good as ours! A bounty unlike no other, nabbed right under their damn noses! Get the planks across, and get their booty back on the Hoard!”

The planks were laid quickly, and before long, the pirates were steadily dragging the cargo from the frigate to their Xebec. Mary Alice crossed quickly, grinning at Tobias as he stood by the helm, quickening her pace up the steps. “Well, aren’t ye the conquering he-” Her eye widened, and she quickly pulled his hand up. He winced at the rough treatment, watching her worried eyes examine his blackened limb. “Tobias…what…what the hell happened to yer hand..?”

“It’s just an old burn.” A weak lie. Burns didn’t glow, they both knew that.

“Tobias…”

“I’ve lived with it this long. Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t leave room for an argument, and she slowly released the limb, letting it drop back down to his side. Wiping the blood on her pants, she looked up with a worried but quizzical expression. “One day…but for now, I think you might like the present I have waiting.” As if on cue, a low moan sounded from the cabin behind them, and she stared into the dark. Her grin grew wide, although far from the carefree one he was accustomed to, and it even sent a shiver racing down his spine. The blade on her boot found its way quickly into her hand, only for Tobias to catch her shoulder and lean low to her ear. “I need to know about the Navy’s movements. Get that from him, and the entire crew is yours, Mary Alice. Deal?”

She turned slightly, lips softly brushing his cheek for a moment far too short for his liking. “Deal. Thank ye.” She disappeared into the dark without another word, and Tobias had no inclination to stick around for her to get to work. His journey down the steps was marked with a few stumbles, but thankfully the crew didn’t seem to notice his slight blunders.

“Miss Moshe, see to the wounded, if you need supplies, you’ve my permission to raid the supplies for whatever we need. When they’re done, report to me, I’ve some small cuts that I’d rather not get infected.” He paused for a moment, before placing a hand on her shoulder. “And well done today. The Boatswain was right about you; let no one ever convince you otherwise.”

“As for you, Mr. Chandler…” His brow twitched in irritation, as he levelled his gaze on the gunner. “Ask when you’re about to kill the captain. The rank and file are about as useful as a drunken gull.” He stood straight, somehow towering despite being shorter than the Master Gunner. “But I give credit where credit is do. You shot well, if a little sloppier from the drink. Try not to drink everyone into a coma, aye?”

He came to his quarters, and looked back to the crew with a smile. “Have another ration tonight, courtesy of our good friends in the Navy! Finish up, then drink up!” The crew roared back in approval, some having already cracked some of the drink to ‘toast’ their victory.

Pulling the door open, he disappeared inside, darting over to his dresser in a panic. He had to have a spare. He HAD to. The captain rummaged through his doors quickly, tossing aside clothes and drink alike before he managed to find the unassuming sheet of cloth. Winding it around the blackened skin with the skill of an expert doctor, Tobias released a slow breath that he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

Too close. No more of that. The Great Break was bad enough as it is. The hand was just fuelling the fire. Reaching for a glass, he sank into his seat and poured himself a glass of whiskey, sighing once as he downed the powerful drink.

“Aye…that was the easy part.”

“As for you, Mr. Chandler…” The Captain's brow twitched in irritation, as his gaze settled on Bors.

“Ask when you’re about to kill the captain. The rank and file are about as useful as a drunken gull. But I give credit where credit is do. You shot well, if a little sloppier from the drink. Try not to drink everyone into a coma, aye?” He said as he turned to leave. Bors glared at his back and stayed silent, knowing anything he said to the captain's back would just be ignored. He turned around with a snarl and headed towards the Royals hold, planning to take whatever powder and ammo they had in store, and hopefully a little coin as well from their berthing.

"Ask when ye about to kill, aye?" He muttered angry to himself as he sifted through the Royals personal belongings, unconsciously pocketing anything that caught his eye. "Cut th' head off, den th' body dies. Our crew be saved without dey half-wit Royal's Cap'n to give orders!" He continued to grumble under his breath as he worked, hauling barrels of powder across the planks that were laid between the ships.

"Nice shootin' as always, lad." Lux said as he came over and clapped Bors on the back. "And don't ye worry 'bout what the Cap'n said. We be needin' any news we can get 'bout the Royals plans, and it be nice to know what is on that cursed ship. Takin' out the enemy Cap'n may be good normally, but normally we no be needin' information, aye?"

Bors silently looked at Lux before nodding slightly. He and Lux turned and went back across the brow between ships, but stopped suddenly when they noticed that most of the crew was there waiting, looking up at them.

"Oi, what this be about?" Lux asked.

"Did ye see the Cap'n?" One man asked. Lux nodded.

"Course. Ye saw him too, alive and angry. Why ye be askin" The crew suddenly all started talking at once.

"His bloody arm! Did ye see his it?"

"That be a curse, I tell ya. We sailing with a cursed man!"

"It be glowing! Bloody fucking glowing!"

"We can no sail with that! He be bringing demons and the like right on top of us!"

Lux's face grew darker as the yelling went on, and as he opened his mouth a loud bang made the crew jump and silenced them. As one they turned toward the sound, and saw the First Mate standing there with 2 knives in her hand. There was blood on both of them, and also some on her cheek and shirt. She slowly glared at all the crew in turn before stopping on Bors and Lux standing at the head of the crew before silently speaking, her voice easily carrying to them all in the stillness.

"I do not know what ye be yelling about, and I do no care. But if ye fucking gutless, shit eating sons of whores do no keep quit while I work, ye may find yeself joining this here Royal. Aye?"

All of the crew gave hurried nods and responses of "Aye." She glared one more time up at Bors before heading back inside and slamming the door shut. Bors sighed to himself, knowing that this would catch up to him later. The First Mate always seemed to catch him at the worst times. Be it coincidence or if she was waiting for these times, it mattered not. In the end, life would still be harder for him. He glared out into the men as they all turned back, looking sheepishly at each other.

"Th' Captains history." Bors said quietly. Lux nodded and looked out into the men.

"Aye, think back. Most of ye been here a damn long time. We be winning our fights, deaths be few and we have no been caught by pirate hunters. No demons, no bad luck. And if ye keep on with this talk, i may think you be trying a mutiny and will gladly keelhaul the lot of ye! Now get yer asses back to work, before the First Mate decides we be taking too long!"

The crew grumbled to themselves as they dispersed, taking whatever loot and supplies they could find. Bors could tell they were only a little mollified, that they would keep their peace for now but they were still not satisfied. Sailors were a superstitious bunch, and Bors knew that one more sighting of the Captain's arm may be enough to drive them into doing something stupid.

"Not over yet," he warned Lux.

"Aye, but stopped for th' moment. May need to bring it up to the First Mate, when she be less busy. With the crew as they are, the first sign 'o trouble in the Break and they be blaming the Cap'n and his cursed arm, bringing ill luck to us all." He shook his head and went off, yelling order to the crew. Bors watched silently for a moment, lost in thought of the unknown future that lies ahead of them, before silently going back to work

Two weeks of smooth sailing forced Dyna to doubt her fears of sailing north. The weather was more than fine, a strong breeze carrying them northward as the sun warmed their bones. In fact, Dyna’s only problem was her sudden onslaught of seasickness. Days that she fought the sickness were more miserable than the days that she succumbed to it and vomited over into the sea. Somehow, throwing up once made her feel much better, though it was a waste of scarce resources and the sickness always returned the next day. By the looks of some of the crew, it had not gone unnoticed. But insofar no one had been talking about it…perhaps Carmichael was keeping them quiet.

Dyna stood at the helm, watching the skies for nothing in particular. It was a clear day, with some harmless clouds drifting far into the east. The sun cast diamonds onto the sea, and Dyna remembered why she lived for sailing. Out this far, the air was clear and crisp, despite the sun beaming down upon the ship. Dyna put a hand on her hat, tipping it upward so she could get an unobscured view.

The scene became obstructed by foreign movement. Dyna looked back and forth, trying to set eye on what she had noticed peripherally. Her stomach tightened as her eyes swept up and down the horizon, searching for what her instincts had already warned her was there.

The lookout shouted, his prepubescent voice cracking beneath the strain, “HO! Serpent ahead!” and then she spotted it – hard, shining blue scales glimmering in the sunlight as the serpent snaked toward The Jolly Possum. Echoes of “Serpent ahead! To arms!” rang throughout the crew, and the rarely seen captain emerged from his quarters.

“Where be it?” He said briskly as he came to stand beside her.

“There.” Dyna pointed, for it was close enough now to easily be spotted. Dyna turned the wheel, hoping to skirt around the beast. Perhaps it had not noticed them.

But as the Possum shifted course, so too did the serpent. It lifted its massive head once, letting out a roar of challenge. It had two large violet eyes, and six horns of various sizes protruded from its skull. Its mouth was overcrowded with triangular teeth, much like the mouth of a shark. Fur lined its neck and head, presumably to insulate the most important part of its large body. It was easily the length of the ship, if not longer. Serpents were rarely found in these waters, and even less attacked. Perhaps this serpent was what she had been dreading.

Dyna returned the Possum to its original route. There was no point in letting the beast chase them off course and into who knows what other madness. There was also little point in trying to outrun the damn thing. It was built for gliding through the waves at rather tremendous speeds.

Everyone lined the starboard side, weapons poised for attack. Most had pistols loaded and aimed, the rest with swords raised. A few of the more skilled had a sword as well as harpoon in hand, the Quartermaster being one of them. Though, as she looked, it was a harpoon unlike she had ever seen.

“What is that?” she asked, noticing that the captain too brandished a harpoon, those his was standard make.

“Bomb lance. Get it in its soft stuff and will take the beast out like a skewered jellyfish.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “They are hard to make, and harder to come by. But I ‘spose this is what they’re made for.”

“How many you got?” She asked.

“Three. Bram grant us luck that we only need use one. The trouble is getting it in there. The underbelly is tough on its upper half; you gotta get low to puncture its scales. But ye can’t get it wet either. Damn finicky contraption, it is.”

The serpent had been chasing them warily, but hadn’t actually approached the ship. A shot rang out and the captain screamed “HOLD YER FIRE!” But it was too late. The shaky hands of the look out boy revealed that it had been he who shot early. The beast roared again, the foreign noise jolting it into anger. It charged the ship.

“Brace yerselves!” Captain Chance shouted.

Dyna clung to the wheel as the serpent rammed the side of the ship. It lurched violently, and Dyna thought she heard cracking of wood. As the ship settled, she shouted for Carmichael just as the captain shouted for Dr. Pinster, the carpenter and surgeon. Bos’n Walter shouted out “Get’m down there now! She’s takin on water!” And then scurred away from the side as the serpent raised itself to attack the members on board. Carmichael took the wheel and Dyna rushed to the fight.

“FIRE!” Quartermaster Angel shouted, and several guns erupted on the serpents face and belly. It shook itself, bullets falling away like dead flies, and there were mere scrapes marring its blue armour, no actual damage. It lunged forward at the quartermaster but he dodged it easily, slamming his sword into the serpent’s jaw.

It screamed and yanked itself away, taking the sword with it. Quartermaster Angel ran to the back of the ship and grabbed a rope, bomb lance still in hand. What is he doing? Dyna wondered.

He shouted a wordless challenge, and then swung from the ship. The crew watched as he swung alongside them, straight toward the serpent, lance braced in his left hand. But at the last moment, the serpent’s body turned, its soft underbelly replaced with rock hard scales, and the lance exploded upon impact, blowing the quartermaster back and into the water.

“MAN OVERBOARD!” a chorus sounded and Dyna searched the churning waters for the quartermaster. The mates were distracting the serpent with swords, harpoons, and a few shots from those who remembered to reload their weapons. There he was, suddenly, his good arm grasping the side of the ship, other arm clutched to his chest. She couldn’t see very well, but not doubt he was badly burned.

She grabbed another rope and flung it to him, shouting for him to grab it. He did, wrapping it a few times round his forearm before nodding. Dyna shouted for help and the boatswain and a few mates worked to heave the quartermaster out of the depths.

The captain had gone below deck to help patch the Possum before she took on too much water, and the quartermaster had severe burns on his left side, pieces of metal protruding from his skin. The first mate was busy rounding the men up and keeping the serpent distracted enough from another charge. There was a lot of blood. Dyna couldn’t tell whose body was lying on the deck, but she knew it was dead.

“Damn lances!” The quartermaster shouted. “Can’t make ‘em work without a shitload of dumb luck!”

A thought struck her. “Bos’n Winner, get me one o’ them lances.”

Dyna removed her weapons, belts, shoes and stockings, skirt and lastly hat as quickly as she could. All that was left was an oversized white shirt and her corset, her legs bare to the world. If she was going to do this, nothing could be in the way.

The boatswain returned, staring at her with his eyes wide. One would have thought she had a missing leg, with a look like that. “Bo’sn! The lance!” she shouted, and he snapped back to.

“Master Cherali, surly you can’t –“

She whipped around and glared at him. “Can’t what, Bos’n?”

He clamped his mouth shut.

“Go tell Mister Tomson to keep that thing facing south, as much as they can!” Bos’n Walter took off to report to the first mate.

Dyna ran in the other direction. She had to tie the rope around her so that she could brace the lance properly. She hoped she had guessed the length right, for too high would lead to the quartermaster’s demise, and too low would send her straight into the water. She let her luck lead the way, pouring all of it that she could into the task at hand. She climbed onto the rail, then ran along it and jumped, shouting for the serpent’s attention as she charged toward it.

Time did not slow, and yet, the descent toward the monster’s belly held a clarity in detail not easily forgotten. When she jumped, she felt a strange twist in her gut as she fell down and forward. If that was what flying felt like, she wanted no part of it. Her body threatened to twist this way and that, and she had to struggle to remain forward. Her feet skipped along the water, and she quickly lifted them to avoid losing momentum. She clung to her luck with all of her might as she plunged toward the monster.

The impact of the lance as it punctured the serpent’s body created a noise best described as a horrible crunch. The serpent cried out, it’s cry cut short as the lance exploded within it’s body. Dyna was blown away, chunks and slime of serpent innards completely enveloping her.

She vaguely noticed her line snapping as she hit the water. Then all was blissfully dark.

---

Many Years Ago

She hit the cold water with surprising force. It stung her skin, and her body felt as though the cold would crush it. Was she rising? Sinking? Which way was the surface? Opening her eyes did nothing, and her chest began to burn from lack of exhaling. Her limbs flung askew, searching for up, down, anything to release her from the cold darkness of the sea.

Suddenly, her head surfaced, and she managed an exhale and partial breath before a wave crashed over her and sent her back into the depths. This time, she knew which way was up, and she struggled to surface again. The next time she broke free of the currents, she swam with the swell, keeping her body in rhythm of its movements to avoid going under while she struggled for air. As she rode the monstrous wave, she caught sight of her father’s sinking ship. Pern’s Supper, it had been called, a lovely fishing ship before the storm had caught them unawares. She watched it sinking, tears failing to form but burning her eyes nonetheless.

“MA! PA!” She shouted, hoping someone was alive. She ran into a piece of the ship and clung to it as the swell peaked and began to fall. The wood bruised her ribs as the wave slammed her down, but at least she managed to surface quicker with the aid of the floating wood. Rise, crest, fall, float, she rode the storm again, and again, knowing not if she was drifting toward the shore. At times, she’d pass out, still clinging to what was now glorified driftwood. The night stretched eternally.

In the morning, all that was left of Pern’s Supper washed onto its shore. Dyna’s limp body rolled itself onto the beach, the last wave leaving her unconscious body on the warming sand.

---

Water spouted out of her mouth, and Dyna rolled onto her side, coughing madly. Sailor Jannie shouted for the captain, and Dyna noticed the Doc sitting over her. Her chest hurt badly, and her head ached beyond imagination, but otherwise she felt…alive. And ready to pass out again.

“Get her to a bed,” Dr. Pinster said to the captain as he arrived, then with a tip of the hat which had long since been lost from his head, he moved onto the next patient.

“What part of lucky is this passin’ out business?” The captain asked her as she groggily tried to sit up. Her head hurt.

“S’ how it works, Cap’n.” she mumbled. “I use it. It uses me back. Big stuff knocks me out flat.” She hardly noticed that she had been speaking about her power naturally, as if it was normal or accepted. Either the captain ignored the comment, or saved it for another conversation.

“And what part of drownin’ is lucky?” He said instead, and Dyna laughed. Rather, she tried to but it came out as a hacking cought which mad her head hurt worse, if that was possible. She groaned and laid her head on her knees, attempting an upright fetal position.

In the end, it was Sailor Jannie who picked her up and carried her to her bunk. He was surprisingly strong for such a scraggly fellow, she noted. She was out before she hit the bed.

---

When Dyna awoke, disorientation overwhelmed her. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, or why she was there. Panic filled her mind and she flung herself out of bed, vomiting into the chamber pot which was blissfully empty. Her head ached still, yet it was the ache of an injury in passing, nothing like what it had felt before.

There was a basin of cold water on the shelf and her clothes piled, somewhat neatly, at the foot of her bunk. She peeled off her corset and shirt, dry and crusty from the salt of the sea. Using the rag left in the bowl, she did her best to wipe away the grime. A mix of salt, dried slime, and dirt came off of her skin. When she was finished, the bowl was an indescribable color of muck. She dragged out her spare shirt and dressed, feeling comfort in the solidity of her clothes. It was amazing how wonderful clothes could feel.

She left her bunk and climbed the stairs above deck. Stars shone overhead, bright and clear straight above, fading to darkness toward the north. A storm was ahead. Dyna shivered, remembering the storm that took her parents.

“Been sailing clear since the attack. Had to weigh anchor for a few hours for Doc to fix the hull proper. Lost a mate, and the quartermaster is hurting something awful. Doc cleaned him up pretty good, wanted to take the hand but Quartermaster wouldn’t let him. Ye been out for two days.”

Dyna nodded. The news did not surprise her. “And this storm abrewin?”

“Nothin’ ye can’t handle, Master Cherali.”

“Ye’ve done a fine job. Thank ye.”

Carmichael nodded, then released the wheel, and Dyna took his place. He hadn’t said which mate had died. Was it Gottin? Laryl? She hadn’t thought to ask. Most were asleep underway, tired from the skirmish with the serpent. She glanced up the mast to make sure someone was on lookout. She didn’t see any movement. She wondered if the lad was asleep.

Grumbling under her breath, Dyna left the wheel and climbed the shrouds to the crow’s nest. Sure enough, it was the lookout boy, sound asleep. She smacked him upside the head. “Wake up, ye useless louse! Wait’ll the cap’n hears of this!”

The boy sputtered as he struggled to wake, fumbling not to drop the looking glass. “No ma’am! Please! I’ll look out; I’ll stay up real good! Honest! I will!”

Dyna cursed as her hat blew off her head and landed on the deck. She glared at the boy, and turned to leave. Dyna did a double take out at the water, for no conscious reason. Yet, as she looked, she thought she noticed something amidst the shadows. “Give me that!” She snapped as she yanked the telescope out of the boy’s cold grasp.

Sche scanned the ebony seas, hoping that her instincts were wrong, that she was just jumpy from the attack two days prior. Her body turned to ice as she found what she had been looking for; a xebec, colours turned black. Pirates.

“Boy! What’s yer name?” She grabbed the kid’s coat.

“Todd! I’m todd!” he responded.

“Todd, get your rat’s ass on deck and douse those lights! Then warn the Cap’n!”

“W-warn ‘im what?”

“Pirates ahead. Pray we go unseen. We can’t survive this.”

Todd scurried off, and Dyna followed.

All in all, the fight probably felt as if it lasted longer than it truly did. The crew of Fasar’s Hoard mopped up the Royal Navy scum incredibly quickly. The element of surprise was always a wonderful tool, and the fact that there was so much pompous protocol Royal Sailors felt the need to utilize helped as well. A few had been a bit smarter and had lost control of their gentlemanly airs to fight like real men, but for the most part, the crew was a sorry bunch, and they were quickly disbatched.

Ramya hadn’t killed another soldier, but she had knocked a fair few unconscious and had caused painful wounds in many others that kept them incapacitated. As a surgeon, she knew just where to make it really hurt, and she always used that knowledge to her advantage in battles and in fights. She had helped her crew bind the hands and ankles of the Royal Navy crew that had continued to live whether they had been unconscious or conscious. The conscious ones had struggled against their bonds to no avail. Her ship mates had a tendency toward excellent knot work. There had been no freedom for the sorry lot that has lost to the pirates.

When her Captain had congratulated them and spoke the order for the acquisition of the Navy’s supplies, she had begun moving around the ship, memorizing which of her men were dead and which were wounded. This was so when she got her supplies, she would be able to more quickly tend to them. Then, the Captain Ormsby’s order had come, and though his compliment had pleased her, she hesitated for a split second, her dark eyes passing over a tear in the sleeve of his arm. The flesh itself looked like a terrible wound or like frostbite – something she had seen only once in her lifetime when she’d visited the island of Fasar in winter with her father as a child – but that glow told otherwise. Was he gifted like her to have an unusual ability that could not be shown to regular society, or was it a simply cursed to look unusual? He never would consider it something of a gift, for he had always kept his hand and arm carefully concealed. How had she never been curious about it in the past? Was it simply that he was a good enough Captain that she didn’t like to question his judgment?

She thanked him before quickly grabbing a rope and swinging across the ocean between ships, over the heads of those moving between ships on the planks.

In an instant, it had seemed she was already back on the enemy deck. She was fast, and while she didn’t have the speed of the truly gifted, she had had extra adrenaline pumping through her body to thank. The worst hadn’t been over; in fact, it had just begun. A battle was a hard thing to face, but the aftermath was usually ten times worse. Some of her crew mates had been killed, and others had been grievously wounded, and still more had had small wounds here and there like hers. Ramya Moshe had tended to the worst wounds first, for those few with cuts and bruises could wait a while to be healed. She hadn’t even bothered to tend to herself first.

The pirate-femme had worked as quickly as possible, but good medical aid wasn’t something that could have been rushed, so she’d taken more than one or two hours to tend to the entire crew before she could get to her Captain. She’d heard a bit of the beginnings of the talk of the crew about the Captain’s arm, and she’d felt anger rise in her. She had been grateful when Mary Alice shut them up. Were they really so clueless that they thought the simple sight of a strange looking arm was so terrible? She’d never known a time when the Captain hadn’t had his arm covered, and she’d never known a time when she hadn’t respected him for his decisions. Lux was right that under his direction, they had a better than average crew with better than average luck. Maybe that was what the arm granted them? If so, she wouldn’t be complaining. Her shadow-play was good for battles and for thievery, but because it was all an illusion for the eyes, she couldn’t trick everyone, and she couldn’t summon something as powerful and as useful as luck.

Her clothing had been stained in blood by the time she’d finished with the rest of the crew. Only a minimal amount of it had been hers, and a bit had been from the battle itself, but most of it had been from caring for her ship mates.

She had tapped her knuckles against the Captain’s door and had waited for his summons before entering the cabin. This hadn’t been an emergency after all, so she’d had no right to barge in on her superior. Her bag had been clutched in one hand, a little lighter than before after using up some of her stock of herbs, and a small bucket of sea water had been placed at her feet while she knocked. Thankfully, she still had enough to get her through the Great Break as long as they didn’t get into a million battles between here and there, and she’d noticed that the Royal Navy had had a bit more in their stores to replace a bit of what had been lost – including some things that she hadn’t already have. Dennis Greaves would have hell to pay if he claimed those things first. She’d let him have some of it, but she would lay claim to the majority, especially the more potent ones.

“I come t’ tend yer wounds, Captain, as ye requested.” Ramya had said respectfully. She’d pulled out a couple of clean bandages and some herbs. She’d opened a glass vial of powdered cinnamon. “We’ll be cleaning yer wounds first, Captain. It’ll sting ye, but th’ salt in th’ water will help yer wounds.” She tended to his more minor wounds before broaching a more sensitive subject. “What about yer arm, sir?” She had asked, indicating the now covered arm that had glowed so strangely. There had been no fear in her voice or in her face, for she had acted like it had been the most normal thing in the world to treat the arm that had seemed to glow, for she had thought she’d spied a wound on it when it had been visible to the eye.

He had uncovered his arm, and she had seen the glow of it for the second time as well as how strange and unhealthy the flesh had appeared. She had wanted to ask about it, but it had been neither her place nor her business. If he had wanted her to know how and why his arm was that way, he would inform her himself without provocation.

There had been a gash in the disfigured skin, and she had cleaned it with the salt water. However, when she had gone to replace the cloth in the bucket, she had kicked it over, spilling its contents onto the floor. “I’m sorry!” She had exclaimed. “I’ll clean it up when we’re done.” Normally, she wasn’t so clumsy, but everyone had their moments. Ramya had simply attributed it to being weary after treating so many of the crew for injuries both large and small as well as the battle that had raged only moments earlier. Her adrenaline had left her, and now all that was left was weariness despite her determination to finish her duties.

Her fingers had fumbled with the vial of cinnamon, and she had almost dropped it, but at the last second, she had caught it. It could have shattered, and there wasn’t any more cinnamon other than this. There were other things she could have used, but she would prefer not to lose any of her stores to clumsiness. The female had begun to sprinkle the cinnamon over the gash. Strangely, it would help to ease the pain the Captain may have felt from his wounds, and it would help it heal without becoming infected. As she had screwed the lid back onto the vial, she’d dropped it. Thankfully, it hadn’t broken, but about half of the contents had spilled onto the floor and into the salt water. “Damnit!” She had cursed before she’d quickly retrieved the container and had deftly screwed the lid back onto it. “I apologize for my clumsiness, Captain. I must be tired.” In her frustration, her words had become proper once more, for she had been more concerned with her ineptitude than with how she had spoken.

She had then placed a bandage over the wound and allowed him to cover it with fabric once more. “I’ll get this mess cleaned up right away!”

---

Two days passed, and Ramya was still tending to a couple of men who had been wounded badly enough that they had not yet been returned to their duties. Night had fallen, and the men were drinking a bit, still glorying in their victory over the Royal Navy ship. However, they weren’t drinking nearly as heavily as they had for the past two nights.

A black feline with more toes than was natural sat upon one of the beds, watching over the man who lay upon it. Triton was generally liked among the crew, for he was a symbol of luck to them, and he would frequently stay with the injured men as a sort of comfort. Sometimes, the female genuinely thought her cat was more than he seemed, but there was never any true proof beyond a strange understanding that lit his eyes when one would speak to or around him, as if he could understand them just as well as they understood each other. However, by all other appearances, he was just a normal cat who liked to hunt and to eat mice and roll in catnip.

Suddenly, she heard shouting above deck, and a sigh escaped her. This had better not be another Royal Navy ship… She thought, but she put away her medical gear, strapped on her weapons, and headed toward the deck. She saw Greaves the Cook along the way. “What be happenin’?” She asked.

“Ship was spotted – a merchant jonque. Capt’n wants to take it and bring it with us. Bos’n Lux wants you on deck, said somethin’ odd about shadows. Ye know what ‘e meant?”

Ramya’s brows furrowed, but not about the shadow comment. “Yeah. I know what ‘e means.” Wouldn’t taking over another ship slow them down? Then again, a merchant ship could hold a lot of cargo, more than the xebec. They could take control of the jonque’s supplies without overfilling their own cargo bay. Plus, whatever was on the Irinen would likely need a lot of a space, so having two ships would be great. They had a lot of extra ammunition from their raid on the Navy ship, and there were only two men who weren’t in fighting condition, so they had a good chance. Most merchants weren’t well trained in combat. They’d be an easier raid than the Navy had been.

When she found Jack Lux, he informed her of why he had requested her presence. He wanted her to mold the shadows around the ship to cloak it. She hesitated a moment before answering him. “Bos’n, it’s one thing t’ cloak a person or two or e’en t’ raise shadows to fool the eye. I never did nothin’ as big as a ship, an’ I dunno tha’ it’ll e’en work, that I e’en have tha’ kind o’ power.”

“It can’t hurt t’ try.” Jack Lux spoke behind her, surprising her, for she didn’t realize he’d been there at all. “At best, it gives us an added advantage of surprise; at worst, they’ll spot us a little early. I think you can do it.” It meant a lot to her that Boatswain Lux had such faith in her. He had been the one who had saved her life from being taken when she’d tried to steal from Fasar’s Hoard, and he had been the one to take her under his wing when she had needed a duty aboard the ship. None were simply “guests” on the Hoard. All had to earn her or his keep, and she had done just that.

“Okay. Jus’ try t’ keep the crew from steppin’ on me, will ye?” Jack nodded, and Ramya moved to the near-center of the deck. This would be the big reveal for the mates who didn’t already know about her gift – or her curse as some may see it – but it didn’t matter. If they didn’t like it, they would have to deal with it. If she was going to do this, she was going to need to concentrate harder than ever, and that meant wiping from her thoughts all ideas of being marooned somewhere in the Great Break at the first opportunity.

There was no quiet to be had, but she had learned long ago how to keep from being distracted. She closed her eyes, standing with her back straight, and her arms out, parallel to the floor. Adjusting her body to the swaying of the ship on the waves was second-nature to her, so that didn’t disturb her at all. The yelling of the crew as they prepared for battle was like a distant lullaby as she inhaled a deep breath.

In her mind’s eye, she imagined the ship, sailing through the night, just as it was now. In her head, she saw shadows from the waves creeping toward the ship, crawling up the sides. The shadows on deck would expand out and over to cover the parts that the moon touched. Sweat broke upon her forehead as she struggled. Ramya could feel the shadows bending to her will, but it was always against their nature to do so no matter how connected to them she was. It was so easy to go for cloaking something small, but this ship was huge by comparison, and it was hard work. Her jaw was clenched so tightly in effort that it had begun to ache, but she ignored it.

Four things happened simultaneously. A gunshot rang out, and a stinging pain shot through her arm, breaking her concentration. Ramya saw Lux pistol whip the bastard who had pointed his gun at her, and she heard a cry that made her feel like she had failed: “They’re snuffin’ their lights! We been spotted!”

“You sonofa bitch!” Lux yelled at the man who was now clutching his face where the butt of a pistol had made contact with it.

“She’s cursed! The shadows would have consumed us!” The crewman cried weakly.

“No, she’s gifted, and she was helping us. Thanks to you, we’ve been spotted. Bloody idiot! Yer lucky I don’t put ye in the brig!” He turned to Ramya. “Are you a’right?”

Her left hand moved to the blood that had blossomed on her right shirt sleeve, but as she moved the fabric aside, she saw it was only a graze and the bullet had not gone through her arm. She nodded a little weakly, having poured so much energy into shadow cloaking. “Yeah. Jus’ a scrape. Nothin’ serious.”

“Yer lookin’ a bit pale. Go tend yer wound and do somethin’ to get your energy back up. You did good, Ramya.”

She flashed him a half smile and hurried below deck once more. A single canon fired from her ship as she moved: a warning shot, for they were too far away to do damage, and it would have been idiotic to try to damage a ship they wanted to keep. Ramya did little more than slapping a bandage on her wound and drink down a cold brew of energizing tea and consuming a biscuit. She needed all the energy she could get. The merchant crew would have a bit of time to prepare now, but the xebec was fast, so it hopefully wouldn’t be enough time. Sadly, she still felt like it was her fault that they’d lost the element of surprise. It didn’t matter that she had been shot; it only mattered that she couldn’t keep her concentration despite a tiny little wound that was hardly more than a scrape. Ramya was furious with herself, but she would fight this battle hard to make up for it.

When she ran back onto the deck, Fasar’s Hoard was just catching up with the other ship and lines were being gripped by those who would board while rifles were being aimed by others. She grabbed a line and drew her pistol as she gathered her shadows in a less energy-consuming fashion. The order to fire rang forth, and the rifles went off from her end. She could hear the rifles from the other ship and see the flashes of light in the darkness that told the story of their discharge, and one of her crewmates fell.

The Jolly Possum's crew was aboard and armed, all but the quartermaster, who remained injured below deck. By the time the crew had been roused, the pirate ship had spotted them and turned course. The Captain Chance belayed rushed orders to open fire, for it was obvious that the ship was far more loaded than the Possum. Their only chance to survive was to lure them on board and fight, and hope that the pirates were not so skilled as the Possum's crew. Dyna held her cutlass before her and poised herself for attack. She closed her eyes and let her luck surround her. It wouldn't be enough to save the crew...it might not even be enough to save herself.

More shots were fired on either side, and those on lines swung across to the merchant ship to engage in melee battle. The shadows moved around Ramya, obscuring her, but as she found her first target, a woman darker than her, she rushed forward aiming and pulled the trigger on her pistol. It went off, but she felt something had been strange about it, and she realized what had happened: a flash in the pan. The gun powder ignited, but the bullet didn’t leave the chamber.

Ramya could be a bit superstitious at times, and she remembered her father had told her long ago that bad luck often happened in threes. She’d failed to cloak the ship, her gun didn’t shoot right, and now there was one bad thing left to happen to her. What would it be? The pirate-femme would make sure it wasn’t her death!

Dyna smiled as her attacker's gun went faulty. Her crew was engaged all around her, but her eyes were only on the woman who had failed to shoot her. This was her target, and luck was with her tonight. Dyna's eyes met Ramya's, and suddenly Dyna was uneasy. Something about the woman had warning bells ringing in Dyna's ears; she hoped luck was enough. The woman seemed just as uneasy looking back at her.

She unsheathed her saber and dagger and rushed at the woman, dropping her shadow cloak and sending one man-shaped shadow to rise to the woman’s left. She thrust her saber toward the other woman’s gut only to be parried as the woman’s cutlass crossed in front of her. Ramya’s dark gaze watched as the other stepped back, looking confused, and she let the shadow-man disappear before raising another one to the woman’s right. A look of determination replaced the confusion, and a half-smile tweaked Ramya’s lips. This was going to be fun.

She lunged forward against with her saber with the intent that the shorter woman’s focus would be drawn to it while she went for the other’s side with her dagger. However, this woman was fast, and she was good. She ducked away from Ramya’s saber, spinning gracefully to avoid it, but the shadow gifted woman’s right hand was still thrusting toward the other’s side when the wrist was gripped as the other’s revolution ceased. Caught a little off guard, she stumbled backward as the other shoved her, and she tripped, falling onto her rump. Her dark gaze moved toward the obstacle and noticed a body spread awkwardly on its front upon the deck floor. In her haste, she couldn’t know if it was one of hers or one of the merchants. She didn’t stop to find out, for she was on her feet, and hurrying toward her opponent once more, ready to fight this woman and move on to her next victim.

However, things didn’t go quite according to plan. This woman was better than her, a faster thinker, and she didn’t have the thrice bad luck clinging to her that Ramya did. A cry of fury left her lips as the taller woman found herself being hurriedly bound and tangled by ropes that the shorter woman wrapped about her body. She struggled against them, her saber falling to the deck floor, but she was tightly bound, and an instant later, she felt a hard shove that sent her flying over the edge of the ship. The dark waves of the ocean moved hungrily beneath her as she gripped her dagger tightly, trying to find a way to break her bonds without gifting herself to the salty water.

Dyna brushed her hands on her skirts and laughed. The woman may have played tricks on her mind, sending shadows across her senses...but she hadn't been quick enough on her feet and to the depths with her for not being so! Dyna raised her cutlass to cut the line that was the only thing keeping Ramya from drowning, but at the last second she felt an instinct to move, and so she lunged away from the side of the ship. A shot hit the railing and she looked up to see a man, arm wrapped in linen, smoking gun in his hand. Her gaze narrowed and she ran toward him while his gun was unloaded.

Tobias had remained silent as Ramya tended to his wounds, unflinching to the slight pain that came from the treatment. His focus remained on the pirate-femme, knowing full well the cause of her sudden clumsiness. Little could be done though. To tell her the cause behind it would only see to rumours, no matter how loyal she was…and once those rumours reached Mary Alice, there would be hell to pay.

Sighing quietly, Tobias held a hand up to stop Ramya. “Don’t worry about it, Miss Moshe. I’ll get it taken care of, and I’m sure you’ve more important things to do.” A slight smile upturned his lips. “Tell Mister Greaves that you’ve first claim to the Royal stock. He can take it up with me if he wants something in particular.”

------------------------------------------------

Two days crawled by, the Captain rarely leaving his quarters, and even those few instances he did were mostly just to give direction to the crew. Sitting quietly behind his desk, Tobias tried his best to ignore the soft “drip, drip, drip” that echoed throughout the cabin. The torture had proved fruitful indeed. The Navy was, predictably, going to take the fastest route to the Great Break, straight past Pern and into the jaws of the beast herself.

“Drip, drip, drip.”

So, to avoid running into the full might of the Royal Navy, they were sailing south, to wrap past Ton and head off into the stormy seas without worry from any of the bastards catching wind of their attempt. They might run afoul of a few more sea beasts this way, but a few serpents where child’s play compared to an entire Armada.

“Drip, drip, drip.”

Growling in frustration, the Captain glared up at the source of the incessant dripping sound. The bastard was dead, for about two hours it seemed, pinned up to the wall with a treasure trove of different blades holding him up. Mutilated and mauled, the bastard had gone slowly, Mary Alice had seen to that.

And yet he somehow still had enough blood to make that Arch forsaken drip. Rising from his seat, the annoyed man cross the room and stared at the corpse for a moment. Flicking his gaze down to the side, he chuckled softly at the peacefully sleeping face of his First Mate, slumped against the wooden walls with a contented smile stretched on her face. She was blood-soaked from head to toe, but it was hard to think of her as the same fiery woman in this rare moments.

The smell would stay for weeks, but at least she was in a better mood. Retrieving the numerous weapons she had lodged into the poor sod’s body (and discovering with some amazement he still had enough blood to stain Tobias’s jacket), the captain tucked the corpse over his shoulder and opened the door to the deck.

The crew watched cautiously, flicking their eyes between the cadaver and his bandaged hand, whispering amongst themselves about things he could only wonder and dread. With a grunt of exertion, the body plummeted into the blackened waves, vanishing into the depths with little more than a splash.

A gentle tap came at his shoulder, and he glanced back at the weary face of Bos’n Lux. “Take a look, Cap’n.” He held out a spy glass, gesturing off at the pinprick dots of light on the horizon. Peering through the device, Tobias chuckled softly to himself as he examined the ship in the distance.

“At this rate, we’ll have raided half the ships in the world before we even see the Break, Mister Lux.” The Bos’n laughed, taking the spy glass and tucking it away for later. “Two ships make for better chances of getting through, aye? I’m all for cheating the odds a bit. Get us in close. Let’s make us a fleet, Mister Lux.”

The Bos’n nodded in agreement, moving swiftly towards the Helmsman to fix their course. The crew hurried into motion, surprised yet eager for another fight and even more bounty to be gained. As they grew to a dull roar, Mary Alice emerged from the Captain’s Quarters, groggily fixing her hat upon her head as she hurried over to his side. “What’s…?”

He gestured to the lights in the distance, before holding out a hand for his weapons. She rolled her eyes, placing the tied pistols in his hand with a cheeky wink. She was in a much better mood. Fastening the weapons round his neck, Tobias hoisted himself up to the railing, grabbing one of the lines to stabilize himself as the Hoard shifted in her course to board the merchant.

A few tense moments passed, the xebec creeping closer and closer towards the unsuspecting merchants. Without warning, the shadows around the ship began to creep up, like the tendrils of a kraken, swallowing the light of the moon. Turning his head to find the source, Tobias smiled to himself when he spotted the concentrating form of Ramya, sweat beading her brow as she cloaked them from sight.

“What in the name of Fasar..?” Mary Alice’s voice was thick with awe, her eye wide as she gazed up at the veil of shadows. “I’ve never seen anything like this…”

Before he could respond, a gunshot sounded over the deck, their cloak disappearing the instant it did. The lights aboard the merchant ship quickly snuffed, and he turned furiously to find the source of the shot. The Bos’n was already chewing him out, but the Captain wasn’t prepared to let it slide. “Unlucky, more like it Bos’n. Miss Cordelia. Escort this rat to the brig; I’ll deal with his worthless hide once we’re done.” The First Mate nodded quickly, flicking a knife out from her boot as she approached the man.

“Walk, before I make it so you can’t.” As she went, she pounded her fist lightly on Bors back as she past, nodding towards their target. “Give ‘em a warnin’.” A moment later, and a cannon boomed, racing past the merchant’s bow. Time seemed to slow, as they closed in on their prey, men readying their rifles as Tobias tightened his grip on the rope.

Three…two…one…

Simultaneous cries of “Fire!” sounded, rifle muzzles flashing as they exchanged their deadly volleys. As the volley ended, Tobias raised his cutlass, the boarders swinging across the gap with a furious battle cry. Another volley greeted the pirates, one man taking a round and plummeting into the waves below with a scream. Dropping into the thick of the enemy, Tobias quickly parried a vicious thrust aimed for his throat, glaring darkly at the sailor who had tried to take his head.

Something seemed wrong as the vicious melee began, the merchants fighting with the same fury and skill of his own crew. Sparing a glance towards the captain’s quarters, he swore at the sight of the man over-seeing the battle. He was no podgy merchant. “Treasure hunters.” He practically hissed the word, roughly kicking his opponent in the stomach before gripping his pistol and blasting a round through another of his opponents.

Ducking under a swing, Tobias rushed forward, pushing the hunter forward with his shoulder until they rammed against the railing. The man bit off a swear, raising a dagger to try and stab into Tobias’s exposed back. Sweeping to the side at the last second, he felt the blade slice through his side, but he locked the pain out. Coiling his fist, he smashed his knuckles against the poor sod’s groin, promptly incapacitating the bastard. “Arch forsaken son of a bastard…” Hoisting the hunter by the seat of his pants, Tobias hauled the man up before heaving him off the side of the ship.

Turning, he quickly spotted Ramya’s plight, just before the medic was sent careening overboard. He readied his other pistol, but a clear shot through the throng of bodies never presented itself. Leaping up the stairs two at a time, Tobias hauled himself to the higher decks, leaping up onto the railing. He fired without a moments hesitation, but the woman dodged to the side as if she had known the bullet was coming. The treasure hunter looked up at him, and he glared down at the woman with fury burning in his eyes.

Dyna charged forward, her pistol barking as she tried to take out the new challenger before he could reload. Pushing off from the railing, Tobias leapt clear of the bullet’s path, landing in a roll as the woman charged in with her cutlass at the ready. The steel dug into the wood of his pistol, raised to defend himself quickly, as he spun his cutlass to the ready in his bandaged hand. It lunged forward, but she once again proved her mettle, expertly dodging the attack with a spin, simultaneously freeing her sword. Scowling, the Captain straightened, letting his pistols dangle loose around his neck.

The woman had readied her dagger in their brief pause, and he felt the heat behind her blazing gaze, the defiance in the face of death bringing a smirk to his lips. This would be a worthy opponent. They rushed forward, clashing their blades together, although she took advantage of her twin blades and lashed out with the dagger quickly against his bandaged arm, digging the metal into the skin of his arm.

Hissing in pain, Tobias broke their parry, using his superior strength to force her back, ignoring the biting sting of her dagger as she wrenched it free of his body. She leapt back into the fray once more, striking heavily against his right side. He parried quickly, trying in vain to counter attack, only to find she was rarely where he intended to strike.

Was she that good? He lashed out with his fist, striking the woman roughly in the chest and buying himself a few precious seconds to catch his breath. “You’re good, lass. Damn good. You the daughter of Arch or just a demon come to have some fun?”

She panted, watching the pirate closely, muscles tightening as the two combatants stared each other down. “Daughter? No.” She leapt forward, blade dancing inches from his face, slicing a few strands of his blonde hair off as he back pedalled to avoid the attack. “I’m his lover!”

“Oh good.” The pirate rubbed his bandaged fingers together, slowly revealing one of his blackened fingers. She lunged forward, only for his cutlass to expertly block her own. He grabbed her dagger hand, and roughly twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop the blade. The glow pulsed coldly, greedily burning at the air of luck around the woman. “I’ve got something I’ve been meaning to give back to him.”

She panicked, tugging roughly on her arm and trying to distance herself from the black finger, feeling it’s voracious hunger tearing it’s way through her luck. The pirate held fast, pushing her cutlass aside, and raising his own to strike a fatal blow against the frightened woman. With a swift jerk of her leg, however, she drove her foot roughly into his crotch, stopping the captain cold and freeing her from his grasp.

He dropped to a knee, biting off a swear, only for the hunter to drop down in front of him a moment later, unconscious. Glancing up, he gave Ramya a weak grin. “Excellent timing, Miss Moshe.”

Before the boy could even get the lights doused, a shot rang out from the approaching ship. Todd was furious with himself for letting a whimper escape his lips, and hurriedly ran below deck to rouse the crew. Mister Tomson was already rolling out of his hammock and shouting at the sleeping crew. Mister Tomson tossed Doc a blade and shouted “Protect the Quartermaster!” Doc nodded, fear not evident on his face, but a shroud of doubt hovered over him. Mister Tomson ran down the hall and pounded on the captain’s door, only to find the captain already dressed for battle. Whether it was the shot, the crew’s warning, or just by chance, Mister Tomson would never know.

Everyone but the quartermaster and Doc was above deck, giving a hearty group of fourteen men. Rather, twelve, a lady, and a boy. The Pirate ship neared, appearing almost as if it had come out from the shadows, its size colossal to that of the Possum.

“We should run for it!” He shouted to the sailing master.

She shook her head. “We’re fast, but that ship’s fast too. And it’s outdone us with the cannons. Won’t be nothin’ left.”

Shouts and sneers called out from the pirate ship, and the Jolly Possum’s crew roared back. Weapons were at the ready and the pirates began to swing over. Mister Tomson ran the numbers quickly. They were beyond outnumbered. The cold ice of realization that one’s time has come washed over him, quickly melting into a fiery adrenaline. If this should be his end…He raised his pistol and shot one of the pirates off their line, their scream comic as they fell to the churning waters. He quickly reloaded his weapon. “That’s one…”

The rest of the pirates landed successfully and began engaging the crew. Mister Tomson knew that their only way to survive would be to take them down while they were few in number; however, there was one pirate for each of the crew just on the first wave of boarding. Mister Tomson knew that the second succession of pirates would doom them. He did what any fighter would do: just kept fighting.

Mister Tomson had successfully injured his opponent, enough that the man backed off. Instead of finishing it, he moved on. There was no time for perfection. There was no time at all. At some points, he was fighting back to back with the captain himself. He had already known the captain was as good a fighter as any; his surprise came when he saw the sailing master engaging in battle.

She moved swiftly, graceful as a cat, and seemed to predict the moves of her opponents as though they were fighting in official style; which they weren’t. He couldn’t watch for long; there was no time. A cry from behind, Mister Tomson turned to see Todd backed into a corner. Two pirates had him cornered; one was bleeding on his side. Good lad, Mister Tomson thought. Jannie had been defending the boy, but the two overwhelmed him and he was rendered unconscious. Mister Tomson cried out in anger as one of the pirates bent to cut his throat while his partner stabbed Todd in the gut. The boy died with his face full of fear.

Mister Tomson roared in anger and charged. He fought with vigor and the valar of times before he was a simple hunter of treasure. The two were caught unawares and he managed to kill them both. Unfortunately; Mister Tomson’s story would never fully be known, for he was stabbed in the back by another, and fell into darkness.

---

Bos’n Walter laughed wildly as he took on one, two, even three of the enemy at once. He was not lucky, chance was not on his side, and he was more of a drunk than a fighter; but he had such a wild demeanor that his enemy was wary to approach him. More than half of the crew was dead, dying, or unconscious on the floor. The rest fought on. “To the death! To the death wit y’all and the locker it’ll be wit ya!” He cried.

Captain Chance was moving toward what the Bos’n realized must be the Captain of the pirates. Dyna had been fighting marvelously, but was hit from behind by another woman that he hadn’t even noticed was there. He charged with the captain; if they were going to die, take the head of that filth with them! Before they could reach the captain though, Chance and he were surrounded by four pirates. Bos’n screamed wildly, shouting fighting words that made little sense but jarred the nerves all the same. Captain Chance laughed wildly with him, and they nodded to each other, ready to take on the world…

A shot rang out, and Captain Chance flew back against the rail, hand clutching his chest. His eyes opened wide, and he stared at Bos’n before tilting backward over the rail and falling into the murk below them. The bos’n just stared. As the pirates leaped toward him, he dropped his weapon. In all his years…the Captain had never so much as been knifed before. He looked around him, raising his arms slowly in surrender. The wildness of the fight had worn off, soberness of death setting in. When had the entire crew…perished? Dyna and Carmichael were both unconscious and being bound to one another. Doc was also bound, and the quartermaster was being carried on a piece of canvas from below deck. Everyone else was…everyone else was…

Everyone else was dead!

The Golden Albatross had been sailing west for three days. The crew was doing surprisingly well; there had been no cases of scurvy, or other ailments for about two months. Alphonsus had a slight stomach ache, but that was more due to his nerves than any sea sickness. The merchant captain pondered over what they would find at the Irinen. He still wasn’t sure whether the haul would be worth the journey. After all, there was no guarantee of survival should they enter the Great Break. Yet, that was where they now headed. They had a surprisingly strong wind at their back, and were nearing the Great Break. They’d be there in no time. Alphonsus spoke to his navigator about their scheduled route. They would make a stop within the next few hours at a small chain of islands.

However, Alphonsus’ conversation with his navigator was cut short when the ship abruptly tilted towards the starboard side. One of the crew members mopping the deck was tossed into the sea, which was strikingly calm. As the crew called out in confusion, they looked for what had caused the sudden disturbance.

Aye, in the seas of the west there be monsters. Demons rejected by Bram at their birth. They were sent to live in the darkest depths of the western seas, near the Break, where even they dare not venture.

The Golden Albatross was tossed about like a rag doll as two massive tentacles grasped the ship like an anaconda grasps it’s prey. The sea immediately around the boat began to bubble, and foam. In no time at all a pillar of water rose several feet above the ship before raining down on the crew. Various fish thrashed about on the deck of the Golden Albatross, gasping for oxygen, to no avail. The crew surprisingly remained calm, they’d seen stormy seas before and even the tentacles did little to scare them. Yet, they cowered in fear as the sun disappeared behind a daunting figure.

A fearsome beast blotted out the sun. It’s damp, slimy, red hide marked it as a squid of the western sea; a massive behemoth of a squid, an unnatural abomination. It shrieked, unlike any other creature of the sea, a terrible shrill scream that penetrated the ears of the whole crew. They grasped at the sides of their heads as if accosted by some brain eating parasite. Upon regaining their senses they’d witness the beast expelling strange eggs from within it’s gaping maw. As these alien eggs landed upon the deck of the Albatross, they’d explode into millions of white fragments, revealing miniature versions of the gigantic beast now holding the Albatross hostage. These miniature squids crawled about the deck grabbing at the crew with their two tentacles and drawing their live bodies into their monstrous mouths with their comparatively shorter arms.

Alphonsus looked on in horror as his crew was being eaten alive. What was a captain to do in such a situation? Alphonsus decided the best course of action was to fight back. Of course, the cannons contained below deck could possibly repel the giant squid, yet smaller arms would be needed to take care of the man-eating squids now on deck. However, to assist his crew, Alphonsus needed to find the necessary courage to leave the area around the steering wheel. He hesitated to walk down the steps to the main deck, the squids were about each waist high, and their tentacles had a reach of about six feet. Alphonsus was no physical specimen either; he’d be slow getting across the deck. Gulping in his nervousness, Alphonsus took one step down towards the deck. This step was soon followed by another, and another, and another, until finally he had reached the main deck. The relatively big man waddled across the deck as fast as he could manage. He kicked a squid which jumped into his path and punched another which attempted to jump on his chest. Just as Alphonsus was about to reach the ladder leading below deck he… slipped.

The merchant captain of the Golden Albatross tumbled down below deck. He would eventually come to a stop when his face hit one of the ship’s walls. The captain grumbled before getting to his feet. He rubbed his face before realizing the dire situation the Albatross was in.

“ALL HANDS TO ARMS! TO ARMS I TELL YOU! GRAB WHATEVER WEAPON YOU CAN! WE ARE BEING ATTACKED!”

The noticeably flustered captain was panicking, as was apparent in his face which was the same hue as a tomato. He rummaged about the crew’s personal belongings for a sword, pistol, or any item of combat value really. Finally, the captain obtained something, a weapon forged of the finest steel, small, and blunt, but occasionally effective- a frying pan. As the Golden Albatross’ captain retrieved the frying pan from the rucksack of one of his crew, the ship was violently rocked, knocking him onto his back. He groaned as the ship tilted towards the bow. However, the ship gained equilibrium as Alphonsus crawled to his feet.

“Grintawh! Daniel! Anybody! Help me with these damned vermin!”

This was it. The third and final bout of bad luck had hit Ramya Moshe as the shorter woman she’d battled had skillfully sent her overboard. Any second now, she knew the woman would cut the rope and send her into the dark, choppy waters of the hungry sea. However, as she struggled to untangle herself, she never felt that drop come, and she hoped against hope that it meant the woman had either been generous or had her attentions diverted. It would be a shame if the woman had been killed, for Ramya – even now – could respect someone who was so skillful, but the pirate-femme’s life meant more to her than the life of a respected stranger, so she wasn’t about to complain.

Instead, she maneuvered her dagger into an awkward position – the only one she could manage through the ropey tangle – and began to quickly saw at her bindings. She felt a piece give way, allowing her to move her other arm freely, but she had to be careful. Cutting one wrong tangle could make the entire thing come apart, and though she trusted that her thrice bad luck had passed, she knew better than to rely on such an idea.

Her dark eyes moved over the tangles of the rope, mapping their directions and visualizing where they led and what she could cut. She retrieved her blade from her still bound hand and cut a line about her ankle. This simultaneously freed her hand and foot. She slipped the dagger into her boot and worked her final limb free before working her way up the rope and back onto the ship. She was strong, and she managed it in no time. As she climbed over the edge, she witnessed the woman fighting with Ramya’s captain. The strangely glowing hand gripped the woman, giving the appearance that he was winning the fight, but she hadn’t expended her bag of tricks yet. With a swift kick to the groin, Captain Ormsby was brought to his knees.

Retrieving her dagger from her boot, she swiftly but quietly rushed behind the woman and brought the hilt hard into her skull. The woman dropped like a stone under Ramya’s skillful hands, for the latter knew well the best spots for unconsciousness. The Captain offered his praise, and the dark haired vixen offered a grin. “Couldn’t let th’ demon get the better of us both, Captain. Ye injured?” She offered her hand to help him to his feet.

When he confirmed he was still fit for battle, Ramay nodded and left him, rejoining the fray. She was weary from her shadow-play and from her lost battle with that woman, but she knew better than to let that bring her down. She fought hard against these people who she quickly realized were no mere merchants. She’d grown up with such people, and they weren’t able to fight like this. These people were treasure hunters and damned good fighters. They fought as well and as dirty as the crew of which she was a part, so she had to quickly rearrange her whole train of thought when it came to battling these people. Assuming they weren’t true fighters was part of why she’d lost the first battle against that other woman. It would do her no good against the rest.


Eventually, after a longer battle than the one against the Royal Navy, the pirates managed to gain their victory. They captured the those few whose lives they spared – including that woman. Some were thrown overboard or were already dead, but they wouldn’t keep the whole crew and risk a revolt against the pirates. The stores were perused and inventoried, and many of the crew of the treasure ship was given the honor of spending time in their own ship’s brig. This was where Ramya tended to the wounded from both sides as per her belief that anyone they decided to keep was worthy of being healed. If anyone had a problem with that, they didn’t speak their anger to her. Perhaps they were afraid she’d send her shadows after them. This was the first time the vast majority of the crew had seen her manipulate the shadows, and she was sure more felt the way the one who had shot her did, but they wouldn’t say a word. Others were content to defer to the Captain’s wisdom, for he was their leader and what he decided was law.

The last prisoner to be tended was that woman. The first thing she did was expertly clean the blood from the finishing blow from her hair and scalp and to place a healing balm on it. Then she looked the woman over for other wounds. That was when she noticed it, and she felt uneasy. It was lucky they hadn’t thrown his woman overboard, for bad luck would have been sure to follow the pirates for the rest of their days.

A glint of yellow caught Ramya’s sight, and she turned her head. A dark feline watched her curiously, his bright eyes glowing eerily in the light of the candles. He stretched his body gracefully, his many toes extending outward. “Let’s wait for this one to awaken, aye?” She suggested. In response, Triton moved toward her and rubbed pleasantly against her knee as she sat with her back against the bars. She was tired, but the woman had been bound, and she would be able to attack the medic.

Bors carefully set down the keg of gunpowder he had grabbed from the prizes stores. It was quite a catch, even if a bit harder to take than he had originally thought. But now their powder was full again, and their food stores were restocked. They had even taken a few of the enemy crew prisoner, which Bors was silently grateful of. He had no qualms attacking any royal ship that dared show itself to the pirate vessel, but attacking independent ships had always left a bad taste in his mouth, even if he did not let it affect his performance. And this time, there was more. Finished with unloading, Bors leaned against the keg and thought back to the fight. In all the fighting and gunsmoke, he was sure that he had recognized the woman who had fought against Ramya. There was no doubt in his mind.

"Dyna," he whispered.


-----------------------------------------

He ducked quickly left, bringing his dagger up and into the armpit of the brigand. Even as the man let out a cry of agony and pulled himself back, Bors spun quickly, cocking his left arm back and letting his dagger fly, bringing up his Sight only for an instant to get his aim. The blade flew straight and true, burying itself into a second mans neck. The man let out a choking, wet gasp and dropped to one knee as he started spitting up blood.

"Two down, and only de Gods be knowin' how many more," Bors thought to himself.

The man behind the one on his knees let out a howl of rage and pulled a sword from his belt before charging forward. Bors was barely able to pull his long parrying knife free in time to bring it up, blocking the blow to his neck and letting out a cry as the brigands sword cut into his hand and sent his knife flying. But a harsh life had taught him well, and he swung with all his might before the man could recover, the blow landing above his left eye. The brigand stumbled back before catching himself, and vigorously shaking his head. He looked up again with a cocky grin, before freezing. Bors had drawn a pistol from his belt, and had it aimed at the mans head. They both stood there, looking at each other silently, before the brigand suddenly grinned again. Growling, Bors pulled the trigger, only a second before another gunshot rang out behind him. Spinning around and crouched pulling another pistol from his holsters, he stared into the eyes of a fourth brigand, sword pulled back in preparation to skewer him.

"Lucky I be gettin' here when I did," said a woman's voice from the far side of the alley as the man toppled over, revealing a dark outline. The figure swaggered towards Bors a bit unsteadily, then grinned down at him, a hand on her hip and a smoking pistol in the other.

"Seems you be makin' a lot o friends, here. Thought it looked like fun, watchin' you boys play aroun', thou' maybe i join ye," she said, laughter in her voice. Bors stood, a smirk on his lips and looked her over. He nodded to himself as if he had come to some sort of conclusion, and held out his hand.

"Bors Chandler."

The woman let out a laugh and holstered her pistol before throwing an arm over his shoulder and dragging him down the alley.

"Dyna. And it looks ta me, Mr. Chandler, that ye owe me yer life. And in a show of yer eternal gratitude, ye have just agreed to buy th' rest o me drinks tonight, aye?" Dyna nodded to herself. "Aye, it be just so. Lucky me that ye are such a gentleman!"

Bor couldn't help it. He laughed hard, harder than he had in a long time, and followed the mysterious woman into the nearest pub.

-------------------------------

Bors shook himself out of his memories and looked sadly into the water. She's probably dead now, having taken on both Ramya and the captain. He had not seen their fight, but he doubted there was anyone who could survive standing up to those two. Bors bent down to carry the powder below decks when he noticed a group of men huddled together near the forward cannons, talking animatedly. They saw him coming as they walked over, and hurredly moved to surround him.

"This be it, Gunny. There be no denying it now! You 'ave to do somethin'!" One man said as the other all nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Aye aye! Cursed I tell ya! I be no sailin' into the break on a cursed ship!"

Bors stared quietly at the men, recognizing most of them as the ones who spoke up about the captain's arm. "What this be about?" he asked quietly.

"Th' bloody shadows! Don't be pretendin' like you did no see them! The doc moved dem, controlled dem! I tell ye, demons be the only ones dat be able to do that! And with th' Captain's arm, there be no doubt tha...!"

The man let out a choke as Bors grabbed him by his neck and lifted him off the ground, his feet kicking wildly.

"Listen, all of ye," Bors growled, rage filling his voice. "Th' doc's abilities may have saved jus' saved our skins! And th' Captain has led you men through more bloody fights than most pirates survive! If i hear any o' ye shit eating cowards speak one more ill word, I be keelhauling every single on o' ye.!"

Bors then pulled a pistol out, set the man down, and promptly shot his leg. The crewman let out a howl of pain as he holstered his pistol, and the Captain's door flew open and both he and the First Mate came out.

"What the bloody...Mr. Chandler, you will explain this immediatly." The Captain said, approaching, with the first mate immediately behind and glaring daggers. Bors gave a small bow.

"Aye sir, apologies. This fool be scaring he'self with thought o' shadows and such, and accidently shot his own leg, he hands be tremblin' so bad. Is that no right, mate?" Bors asked, glaring down at the crewman. The man's eyes were filled with terror and pain, and he immediately began agreeing and apologizing to the captain in a stuttering voice. After a minute or so the Captain made a sharp motion with his hand and the man instantly fell silent. He looked down at the man, then at Bors silently. Bors seemed to get the feeling that he knew exactly what had went on here, and was deciding how to deal with it. Coming to a conclusion, the Captain nodded and turned back to his cabin.

"Mr. Chandler, Ms. Ramya is below decks in the brig. Take the man down to her, if you please, and leave him in her care. Ms. Cordelia, see to it that he receives proper punishment for his foolhardiness once he has recovered."

"Aye, sir." Bors said, and bent to pick up the man. As he was headed down, the man let out a sigh of relief, and started to thank Bors, but quiclky went silent as Bors glared at him. Going down the ladderwell was particularly enjoyable, as he landed on each step heavily, jolting the man with each step and making him cry out. Bors cut off a chuckle as he rounded the corner, into the brig.

"Ramya, got another for ye. Cap....", Bors trailed off as he looked into the brig, and saw none other than Dyna laying there.



-----------------------------------------------

Bors awoke just before dawn, and slowly sat up. He looked over to the sleeping form next to him on the bed and thought back. Two weeks he had been here, in this port as his ship was getting repairs from a particularly nasty battle with a Royal Frigate. Two weeks he had met with this woman Dyna. At first, it they almost seemed to bump into each other by sheer luck. But later, they had started agreeing on meeting places, taverns usually. It was different, for Bors. He had spent his entire life caring about nothing other than revenge against the Royals, than surviving the next battle and perfecting his skills with any type of firearm. Now, it was almost getting to be normal, seeing her. Shaking his head, he carefully got up and started getting dressed.

"It's time," he thought to himself. "I be here fer too long, getting too used to dis place, and these people." He silently grabbed his gunbelt and boots, and took one more look over his shoulder as he reached the door. He froze, his hand on the door handle as he saw he looking at him. She smiled and stretched, while Bors watched admiringly.

"So, this be it, eh?" She asked as she got comfortable again. "Off into de night, without a word?"

"Mornin' actually," he responded with a half smile.

"You still have no told me what ship you be on."

"Secret."

"Always with ye secrets," she said, laughing. "I may be thinkin' yer a pirate, soon. Well, be off with ye. Was gettin' tired of ye always around, anyways."

Bors laughed and opened the door. "Aye, apologies," he said, and closed the door behind him as he left.



---------------------------------------


"Bors?"

Ramya's voice snapped him back into reality, and he looked down to see them both staring at him.

"Shot he'self," he said quietly, setting the man down with a thump that drew another cry of pain. He quickly turned and hurried out of the room muttering something about work to be done. So Dyna was alive, it seems. He had hoped he wouldn't see her again, that it would just be a fond memory. He knew that the life he had chosen was far from noble, no matter what his reasons, and any other confrontations with her would end badly. Bors went back to his post silently, wrapped in his memories.

Dyna awoke to a familiar darkness. The lanterns hanging beyond the bars were the only light emanating from this deep in the ship. She, and the few others who were not killed, were tied up in the brig of the Jolly Possum. Her arms were tied behind her back, and her feet were bound together, attached by a long bit of rope to the bindings of her arms. She stretched her bindings a bit, but they were very secure. That slight movement brought a wave of nausea, and she quickly got to her knees so she could vomit in a very disgusting looking chamber pot.

Ramya was silent, unmoving as she watched the smaller, bound woman stir and move to the chamber pot. She didn’t move to help her as she vomited, not wanting to disturb her at the moment. Shadows obscured her a little, helped by her summoning them to conceal her from sight. Titan was equally obscured, and he remained still as if he knew he should mimic his human’s demeanor.

After that, Dyna looked about the brig. Doc was sitting next to the Angel on the only bench in the brig. Both looked tended. Doc was bound, hand and foot. The quartermaster was not, which was understandable. He was so injured, binding would be pointless. Carmichael and Bos’n Walter were sitting across from them, squatted on the floor. She noticed that their arms were bound to the bars behind them. Bos’n Walter and Carmichael both looked at Dyna as she looked to them, and then Bosn’ glanced behind her. She did her best to turn around.

The woman pirate was sitting behind her, hand entangled in the fur of a rather large black feline. It was the woman that she had fought earlier, and Dyna was wary, though she didn't seem to have the glint of a grudge in her eye.

Ramya dropped the shadow cover from Titan and herself as the other woman began to look around at her other injured and jailed crew members. Her fingers curled into the ebony fur of Titan who purred as he was pet lovingly if not a bit absentmindedly. Her full lips, which naturally seemed to have an ever-present smile at the corners, were curved lightly at the corners in a sly smile.

“It was bloody stupid o’ ye to be fightin’ in yer condition, Miss. Even if ye ain’t been carryin’ long, ye still has more ‘n yerself to worry ‘bout. E’en so, ye fight mighty well, an’ I ain’t one t’ not respect that. Still, glad we spared ye. Bad luck ain’t somethin’ I need trailin’ me fer the rest o’ me life fer killin’ a mum-t’-be. One o’ these men t’ father?” Ramya waved her arm toward the bound and injured men who had been a part of treasure hunter crew. “Or was it th’ captain tha’ was tossed overboard? Pity if he be dead ‘fore he ever got t’ see the babe.”

"What are ye rambling about? Father, gods no! Yeh crazy ol' witch! I ent with child!" Dyna shouted, bringing the attention of the rest of her crew. She heard Bos'n mumble something about 'bad luck', and she turned back and glared at him.

Ramya gave Dyna a flat look. "Ol' witch or not, you be'in a mum-t'-be."

Dyna opened her mouth to respond, but the news clicked into place, and suddenly many things were beginning to make sense. She felt the urge to touch her belly, though could not as her hands remained tied behind her.

She saw the look in the other's eyes as things began to make sense. "I ain't ne'r been a mum, but I know preg'nant miss when I see one." Before Ramya could get another response, she began to hear footsteps coming near and groans and cries from the same direction as the footsteps. Her dark eyes moved away from the bound woman and to the two men coming toward the cell. It was Bors and another one of their crew mates, Ike Lowe. Ramya sighed as she beheld the wounded leg, and she stood. She waited as he began to talk, only to trail off as his eyes beheld the woman to whom the pirate-femme had just been talking. The look in his eyes told a lot, and her dark brows arched in surprise. They knew each other. What a coincidence. For a split second, her lips quirked in a grin before disappearing.

“Bors?” Ramya asked softly, watching as his mind seemed to return to him.

“Shot he’self.” He replied. She growled at the idiocy of her crewmates.

“Just what I be needin’… Put ‘im down, Chandler.” The cell was unlocked, and she waited as Bors roughly dropped Lowe against the wall, jarring his leg enough to elicit a groan of agony. Like a bat out of hell, he left the brig, returning to the deck, and she moved toward her crewmate.

“Yer a bloody idiot, ye know tha’? The fightin’ be o’er, bu’ ye can’t help but be wavin’ yer gun around? Bu’ I guess ye like doin’ tha’, aye? I got a scrape on me arm from yer takin’ shots when ye shouldn’t be doin’ it.” He was the same one who had shot her on the deck. The bruise on his face where Lux had pistol whipped him was a deep purple and rather swollen. There was a chance that his cheek had been mildly fractured, but that wasn’t serious enough for her to give him medical aid. A gun shot, on the other hand, was.

“Yer a witch! A demon! I don’ need yer help!” His voice shook as he opposed her, and she stood above him with her hands on her hips, amused.

“That be right, Lowe? How many times yer life be saved by me, eh? How many time ye beg me to fix ye up right? How many time ye be thankin’ me for savin’ yer sorry hide? If ye don’ wan’ me help, that be fine. Ye can try an’ dig the bullet out yer own leg. How long d’ ye think it’ll take fer yer wound to fester? How long after that ye think it be before yer leg has t’ be chopped, huh? Ye can walk around with a peg leg an’ tell th’ whole crew how yer leg had t’ go ‘cause ye wouldn’t let a witch take ou’ th’ bullet ye put there. Ye’ll be a laughin’ stock. I bet they already be laughin’. Ye be the on’y one who don’t want me help. All the others were just fine with it. Even th’ prisoners didn’t object once they seen what I can do.” Her voice was cold as she chided him. She was no-nonsense when it came to her duty as a surgeon.

He glared at her, but she could see the hints of doubt that filtered into her eyes as he tried to stare her down. “I ain’t shootin’ meself.” He grumbled under his breath.

Ramya scoffed. “Ye know why I believe ye?” She asked. His brows rose in surprise, and he shook his head. “Because ye be a sorry excuse for a man, an’ ye be lucky the Gunner didn’t shoot ye right between the eyes. At least out here, we don’ has t’ worry ‘bout fishin’ yer body from the sea like we did with Billy. Ye shoot a’ me, and ye get tha’ bruise from Bos’n Lux. Ye still ain’t learnin’ from tha’, so Chandler has t’ put another lesson in yer leg. Next time, I be sure t’ Captain’ll be th’ one t’ put ye down, so ye better shut yer bloody mouth an’ remember that the same crewmates ye be condemnin’ are the ones who be there fer ye all along.” She gave a good, strong nudge at his wound with that which brought a curse from his lips.

He glared at her some more, but after a moment, his features softened in defeat. “Fine. Save me leg.” He grumbled the words like a sour child, and looked away from her as she kneeled before him. Using the dagger from her boot, she sliced open his trousers. Her eyes looked over the wound for a second before she opened her bag and brought out a vial of witch hazel. “This’ll sting, but by now, ye know this, aye?” He nodded as she sprinkled the oil onto his leg, but his jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists as a groan rumbled in his throat.

She took a smaller, sharper knife from her bag and cut into his leg. He cried out, his breathing increasing from the pain. “Go ahead an’ curse if ye want. It’ll make ye feel a bit better.” As she dug into his leg, he bellowed the foulest curses that could come to his mind as sweat broke on his skin. At last, she found the bullet and pulled it from his muscle. Then she added a bit more witch hazel to his wound followed by a touch of dried cinnamon to ease his pain before she began to stitch the wound with a needle and strong thread. “We be checkin’ on this each day t’ make sure it ain’t goin’ bad. Don’t be showin’ off and doin’ stupid things, or ye’ll pull out the stitches. If you do that, I be burnin’ yer wound closed, and ye don’t want that, aye?” He nodded and she helped him stand. Tell Bors tha’ I say ye need t’ have a stick t’ help ye walk. He’ll know better than t’ ignore me demands.” Ike Lowe gingerly made his way back up the ladder to the deck, and Ramya turned back to the cell. Titan had already taken a liking to the bound woman, curled up right beside her.

“Well, well, well. Did ye see tha’, Miss?” Looks like me cat ain’t th’ only pirate who be cozying up t’ ye. Looks like our Master Gunner likes ye, too. A shame I be missin’ th’ look on yer face when ye saw ‘im, but the look on ‘is tol’ me quite th’ story. How’d ye meet? Ye don’ ‘ave to tell me now. Ye’ll be wi’ us a long time, at least six more months. I be findin’ out in tha’ time.”

As Ramya had been working on Ike's leg, Dyna had looked for some sort of way to escape. The fury she felt was white hot, murder was on her mind. Though the door wasn't locked, she couldn't walk and found nothing to cut the rope on. She flung herself against the bars in frustration, and fell to her side.

Dyna hung her head, watching as the black cat approached her and began to rub against her thighs lovingly. Bors. Though she had smiled as he'd walked out of her life those months ago, he'd left her with a broken heart. She'd have waited for him too if she could have afforded the time to wait. Apparently he'd left her with more than just a broken heart; a babe in the womb as well. But that wasn't the worst, no. The whole time she'd thought him an honest man, and he never told her otherwise. Nay, he was no honest man, and she should have known. A pirate. The lowest of men! And he'd proven it too, running off like that. She'd find a way to make him pay. He'd pay for the fake happiness he had wrought upon her before he wrenched it away. He'd pay for it all.

Dyna lifted her head and looked and Ramya. "If I truly be blessed to live that long imprisoned with ye sorry, scurvy-infested, bilge-drinkin' swabs, Bors won't be."

"Oh, ho!" Ramya chuckled. "Bilge and scurvy, eh? Our cook'd rather die than let our crew drink that crap, and ye think I be lettin' somethin' like scurvy infest the crew? I s'pose ye was unconscious while I tended the crew of me ship and o' yours, but I be too good a' what I do t' let any of us end up wi' tha'. Between me an' the cook, our crew be just as healthy as any 'respectable' sailin' crew. Ye'll be findin' that yer crew'll be almost as healthy as us in no time, too, if the cook deams ye worthy o' our food. Course, with a babe growin' in yer gut, even if the rest of your crew doesn't get good food, I be makin' sure ye'll get what ye need. After all, I have a hint o' respect for your fightin' abilities, and it ain't like the babe has any wrong doin' attached to it. Innoncence ain't punishable in me book."

"Whatever nastiness not on ye ship, be in ye hearts. Innocence ent punishable, yeah? Say that to Todd, or Jannie, or Tompson, or Cap'n Chance. All dead. All innocent." Dyna's voice shook, and she felt her face get hot. Tears threatened to fall, but she squeezed her eyes shut and refused to cry.

"No one ol' enough t' understand the workin' o' th' world be innocent. No' yer Captain, no' me Captain, no' ye or me. Darkness be livin' in all our hearts, Miss. Ye be smart to remember it. Ye'd also be smart to remember that treasure hunters be one step below pirates. Course, ye must already be knowin' tha', or ye wouldn't be on a ship that has t' be disguised as a simple merchant ship, aye? At least we be embracin' our natures rather'n tryin' t' hide who we be." She laughed at that. "Prisoners always try an' be high an' mighty, but when it comes right down t' it, yer all no better an' us. If we'd been the ones t' lose, I doubt ye'd've spared a single one o' us, let alone tryin' t' heal our wounds." Ramya relocked the cell in which the prisoners resided. "Come, Triton. We'll let the prisoners stew fer a bit. I be tired, and I bet ye be hungry." The feline's round eyes glinted yellow in the fire light as he turned his head from one woman to the other. Ramya patted her thigh in beckoning, and he stood, stretching his limbs and extending his many-toed paws before squeezing between the bars of the cell. "We be checkin' on ye lot tomorrow. Sleep tight."

As she left the brig, she began forming a plot in her mind. She had to get Bors down here again. She wanted to know what was between the woman and the gunner. Obviously, it was enough that the woman was furious with Bors, and that was very interesting to Ramya. She'd get Greaves to help her figure it out. After all, what was there for a pirate except for treasure and conflict?

Hasina Onnos perused the maps, her golden eyes flicking back and forth. She spotted inaccuracies in a great many of them, and she found herself wondering how amateurs could possibly have their maps sold in a shop that was supposed to be held in such esteem. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and shook her head before lifting scrolls of parchment from her bag.

“Sir, I notice some problems with these maps.” Her voice contained an accent true to her heritage, but she pronounced her words clearly. She unrolled one of the scrolls and laid it flat against the table, revealing a highly detailed map that vaguely resembled the one at which she had been peering. “You see this, here?” She asked, her dark finger running along the shop-map. “This river curves more sharply, and it empties later. This map is not to scale, either.”

The shop keeper glared at her. “I supervise the making of these maps myself, and I can assure you that your map is the one that is incorrect.” His voice was tinged with anger.

“I meant no disrespect.” Hasina said calmly and sincerely. “I simply figured you would like to sell maps that are more up to date. I have seen copies of this map, and it is outdated. The Earthquake changed the length and flow of this river. I followed it only a few months previously.” Her voice never showed any hints of irritation or impatience with him, and her body language was the same. Hasina was not the sort to become angry over petty things, for she tried to be understanding.

The man’s eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed, but he peered closer to her map. “What’s this?” He asked.

“It is the old flow of the river. The earthquake cracked the earth and caused this to be dammed while the water began to flow through the crack. That is why it curves this way now. The old way is now dry but fertile land.” His face peered closer to the map.

“When did it happen, and how do you know?”

“About ten years ago, and I know because I asked the locals.”

“Then why didn’t anyone change the maps?”

“I do not know, but I have several copies of this one if you would like some to sell.”

He looked at her a bit hard as if he was sizing her up. “I’ll give you two copper per map location.”

Hasina said nothing, but she calmly began to roll her map back into a scroll. “I’m afraid we have a misunderstanding, Sir. I work very hard on these maps, and while I want the world to be able to use them, I must make a living somehow. Two copper is not even enough to buy a day of bread.”

He scoffed at her. “You’re a woman, and you’re a savage at that. Why don’t you just leave the maps here and go back to your primitive people?”

Still, Hasina showed no semblance of anger, but her muscles did tense in preparation. She would not freely give her maps to this man, but she sensed that he would try to take them from her. She stuffed the maps into her bag once more and slung it over her shoulders. “I apologize for wasting your time and for causing you any distress. I will be leaving with my work now.”

That was when he lunged at her, but she was ready, and she dodged it quite smoothly considering the bulky parcel hanging from her shoulders. Her hands quickly gripped a pair of fans that had been dangling from her belt, and with a flick of her wrists, they opened. The light glinted off the metal along the edge that threatened to be very sharp. Even now, in a moment when most would be angry or frightened, the woman was nothing but calm. She did not frighten easily, and she had trained hard for years on how to defend herself.

“Sir, I believe we can settle this in a civilized manner. You claim I am a savage, but you have attempted to attack me. I do not want to harm anyone, and I would very much like to leave, but if you do not allow that, I may be inclined to force my way out of this shop.”

It was at that moment that it became apparent that there was another man already in the shop.


While Hasina looked over some maps, in a dusty corner of the shop a rather plump merchant did the same. He unrolled and rolled back up a number of maps composed of parchment, leather, bamboo, and other materials. The wealthy merchant turned from his browsing when Hasina pointed out inaccuracies in the map-maker's wares. Alphonsus was very interested, as the change in terrain and other elements could greatly affect his trade. It seemed the map-maker was in stern disbelief, and rather irritated. Suddenly, the map-maker lunged at Hasina and landed face first into the wooden shop floor.

"By Fasar's bosom," exclaimed Alphonsus.

The merchant hobbled over to Hasina amidst the miniature scuffle. He was going to ask if Hasina was alright, but decided she was more capable than he at handling the situation. He then offered her a decent sum of money for a couple of her maps.

"I'll give you this pouch of gold dust for your whole collection."


Hasina looked up from the shop keeper on the floor to the one who had just offered her quite a large sum. Her golden eyes flicked from the pouch to his face; he looked familiar, but she couldn’t say why. “Your offer is very much appreciated, but I would feel rather terrible if I was to accept such a large sum of money for my maps. While I believe this man,” She motioned to the man on the floor, “was unfair to me, I believe you are perhaps almost more unfair to yourself. Besides, you have not even looked at my maps, and I would not want to give you a false impression of my skills.”

The shop keeper rubbed his knees as he stood, glaring at both of them. It was one thing to attack a woman and to steal from her without witnesses, but it was another thing entirely when there was clearly one who was not on the shop keeper’s side. With a growl under his breath, he stormed off the floor and into the back.

“If you would like to see my work…” Hasina began, but it was at that moment that she recognized him. “Captain Gillard?” She asked in disbelief. It had been years since she had last seen him. She had been a woman just budding at the time, and she’d had her future fiancé, Imad, at her side. Remembering him was painful, but the Captain and the woman were well met, so she did not permit her emotions to colour her face or her voice.

“You may not remember me, but it is wonderful to see you. I am Hasina Onnos, and I once traveled with Imad Shakri. I would love to show you my work, for it was you and your merchants who inspired me to begin creating my maps. Will you come with me to another place to view them? I no longer think we are welcome in this shop.”

---

Three days of smooth sailing on the Golden Albatross had only helped Hasina Onnos maintain her good mood, not that bad weather could have really done anything to break her peace. The dark skinned woman seemed to be in a perpetually, and somewhat unnaturally calm state. There seemed little that could disturb her serenity.

Hasina’s golden eye peered observantly through a telescope, surveying the waters for any land masses she could map. Had anyone been this far in a while? Most people knew better than to even try to brave the Great Break, especially with the Tolian Reef guarding its entrance. Perhaps that was the end of the world as people knew it, or perhaps it had changed since the last map had been made that told of it. No matter how hard she had tried, she couldn’t find a map of the Reef or the Break itself, just the writing on maps and in journals that told of its existence. She sometimes wondered if it was just propaganda to keep people from sailing that way, but what else would explain the crews that sailed that way and never again returned home?

Regardless, the sailing master was quite determined to make sure she mapped it all and made it home with an even greater prize, one she was nearly certain the RS Irinen had in its stores.

A sharp tilt of the ship caused her reverie to break along with the telescope that crashed to the deck. She grasped at the railing, and a scream was heard as a crew member was tossed overboard. Her brows knitted together as she witnessed large, thick tentacles wrap around the ship, the water droplets on their fiery red flesh glittering like diamonds in the sun-light. Then a giant wave of water exploded onto the ship, causing Hasina’s black hair to become matted to her head. Even then, she wasn’t truly afraid, but that was before she viewed the face of the thing attached to the tentacles. It was a beast such as she’d never before viewed in her life in all the times she’d been to sea and all over the islands and the mainland. How could the gods create such a thing? Her eyes were wide, and her heart beat rapidly, but she was not yet lost to fear and panic.

A sound emitted from it that caused her head to feel as if it would explode. She groaned in pain and clamped her palms to her ears as if such a simple gesture could have ever blocked such a terrible sound. Suddenly, it ended, just in time for strange eggs to land upon the ship’s deck and split open to birth so many squids who resembled tiny versions of the one that had spewed them forth. Hasina gasped in horror, but she took immediate action, grabbing up two fans from her belt where they were always stored.

With a flick of her wrists, they opened, their sharp, steel blades ready to serve just as usefully as a piece of pen and parchment, just in a different way. She swept them around her, slicing through slimy flesh to shed the black, gooey blood of her enemies. There were so many of them, but she had a strong instinct for survival, and she was observant which enabled her to be a better fighter. She would not allow panic to swallow her intellect, for that was the quickest path toward death.

Captain Alphonsus of The Golden Albatross tumbled below deck and right past James Roe as he was swabbing the floor. James continued scrubbing the floor as the flustered Captain shouted for help, desperately searching possessions not his own for a weapon. James patiently tossed his rag back into the bucket and dried his hands on his pants.

"Sir?" James caught the attention of the wild eyed captain.

"Swabbie! What are you doing just standing there! We're under attack! Arm yourself and get aboard!"

"Sir, you understand that by granting me permission to bear arms, you risk relinquishing the secrecy of my position aboard this ship." James didn't let the screams above deter him from digging a response out of the captain. James was no swabbie. Captain Alphonsus wanted as much muscle as he could afford. But Captain Alphonsus failed to mention he'd already hired a marine - the legal version of James' profession. So James took on the role of Swabbie - the lowest of the low on board a ship. He did his job with as much calm calculation as he did his as his true position as a mercenary. "Well, Captain?"

"Yes, yes, Merc, what do you think I hired you for?! I claim all responsibility yada and so forth now go KILL THOSE THINGS!"

James smiled. He took two long strides across the cabin, which was all it took to get to the opposing wall. He ripped up a loose floorboard and grabbed his weapons. There were two belts, one with two sheathed sabres and the other with two holstered flintlock pistols. He belted each one over his waist with calm efficency. He slid one knife in each boot and stuck the last behind him, tucked in his trousers. Usually he had a coat to hold his weapons, but it was hidden in his bunk and there was no time to get it. He slung a bag filled with gunpowder bombs and a flint over his shoulder so it fit securely on his side. Lastly he grabbed his rifle...his most beautiful and useless possession. James was a terrible shot long range.

When James finished, he was a sight to behold. Standing more than a foot over his Captain, with every weapon he could fit on his person, it was enough to scare anybody, soldier to pirate. Unfortunately, he wasn't about to be fighting anything human.

"Well now, get to work!"

His captain's words faded behind him as James charged up to the deck. The brightness of the day blinded him for a moment, and he took that moment to shut his eyes and adjust his senses. It stunk awful, was the first thing he noticed. Rotten fish mixed with a bitter, unfamiliar smell. He opened his eyes and found the source of the smell: a gigantic squid hovered over the Albatross while several smaller versions crawled across the deck.

James saw Grintawh spinning a quarterstaff wildly over his head, knocking a squid off of the banister that had been about to lunge on another crew member. There were few people who James spoke to while on board, but he had become quite close with Grintawh. That old man could talk for hours on anything as small as the distribution of sand grains on an ocean shore to important things like political ramifications of warship construction. He was a fascinating character who had an eye for which winds to follow and did not discriminate who he shared his wisdom with. To see that he was also a capable fighter in his age made James appreciate him even more.

James cut down a squid and made straight for the larger one. So far, everyone was merely evading its tentacles but not doing anything to attack it. He ran to the side of the ship, aimed his rifle, and aimed for one of the creatures eyes. His gun shot true and the beast screamed in agitation. Everyone dropped down and covered their ears, including James, for its scream was impossible to withstand. It's tentacles slammed down around James, and he unsheathed his sabres, hacking away at the beast's appendages. A little squid made for James from behind, but before it reached him, Hasina sliced it in half with her unusual fan-blade weapons. James nodded to her, and she back. He had never spoken to her before, she being the navigator and of much more status than he. she probably had no idea who he was, assuming he was just a swabbie.

James took his sabres and attacked another two squids who were busy feasting on the crew. with them dead, he squatted down between the bloated bodies, sheathed he swords, and got out a gunpowder bomb. He held it between his knees as he hit the flint and steel over and over again. His hands were wet and slimy and getting the bomb to light was proving difficult. The ship rocked and he fell over, dropping everything. He cursed and grabbed another, but he couldn't locate the flint he dropped. James looked around, taking in his surroundings and looking for anything he might be able to use. A lantern rocked precariously on its hook, and James ran to it. He opened the glass door that protected the light, stuck the fuse in and smiled as it lit. He then ran back toward the squid, counting as he did so. He didn't have much time, so as soon as he reached a clear shot, he threw the bomb with all of his might. It exploded near the side of the squid, causing it to scream again. At least this time he could see it was somewhat injured...and really angry.