Private Tales Death on the Black Bay

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Juniper Grey

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Her clan was everything. It was how she'd been raised. Serve the clan. Serve the goddess.

Kai didn't think twice about checking the trap at the edge of their territory. Their clan needed food and the others were too young to go to the surface. It fell to her as the second oldest. It was her duty. And she was their leader.

Tail pumped the briny waters as a shadow passed overhead. Mouth split into a sharp-toothed smile. Perhaps her members would get more food than they originally had hoped for. With spear ready, she pumped her fin toward the surface. With her voice, no sailor would be able to resist her call.

Only.

She wasn't expecting the sudden onslaught of nets. The shadow wasn't the ship. It had been a decoy. These sailors were hunting her kind.

Slavers.

Kai squirmed in the roped-net, murder ringing from her iced-azure gaze.

"She's beautiful," one young sailor mused, getting close, ogling her chest.

"She'll eat your face off, kid. Wouldn't get that close. She'll fetch a hefty price," he jabbed her with his spear. Webbed-fingers curled around the rope, dark hair glistening in the morning sun, a hiss escaping through already chapped lips.
 
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“Oy, Capetain!”

Auburn curls tumbled off a bronze shoulder as the woman in question turned her head skyward. A dark face full of grinning teeth was leaning over the edge of the crow’s nest. She squinted.

“Qe?”

“Ent del nave al’o’est!”

Oh, those dulcet tones. Her expression smoothened like the sea in doldrums, frown replaced by a hungry smile. Gal braced her hands on her hips and bellowed for the whole of Her Ladyship to hear, loud and clear.

“Bear hard to starboard! We got us fishes ta catch!”

A spirited jeer went up as men scrambled like ants up the ratlines, unfurling more sail before the rest braced the yards round for a course closer to the wind. The rigging creaked as the brigantine cut across the waves, brine spraying up in great white arcs where they broke across the prow.

Gal left the wheel in the hands of her trusty helmsman and scaled the bowsprit with practiced dance-steps around the taut stays.

Her call rang clear over the roar of the sea and the bellow of the wind.

“Hoist the colors high!”
 
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How long had she been in the cage swaying above deck? The sun and air were blistering. She could tell the change would happen soon. Her glistening tail was already drying out. Sharp-teeth clenched.

It would be painful.

Fingers curled around the iron bars, iced-azure gaze tracking the horizon.

And then she saw it before the other walkers below. Another ship. She'd recognize that flag anywhere.

Pirates.

It took the slaver in the bird's nest just above her to hollar a warning. Perhaps he'd drunk too much spiced lum the night before. Kai watched, slightly fascinated, as the walkers scurried into action below her. They were going to try and out-sail the pirate ship. Only, Kai could already tell the other ship was much, much faster.
 
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“Kai nā hau e waru,”

The canvas around her snapped like a hungry beast held back by rusted chains.

“me nā whetu e waru,”

Gal squeezed her fist tighter around the stay, her appetite a living thing in her breast.

“arahina ahau ki te kararehe,”

She longed to wet her steel and throat with blood.

“kia taea e ahau whakamate e ki toku ringa ake,”

She longed to see the crimson tendrils billow like smoke in the crystal water.

“a takoto i tona nākau ki o koutou ma kou mau wawae.”

She longed, but not for long.

In the open sea east of the Spear, the slaver might’ve outrun her. More sail to bare to the howl of the wind; more masts in number to hang sail (and sailors) from.

But this was not the open sea – the Black Bay glinted at them with the gap-toothed grin of a beggar, its black rocks just as rotten and jagged. All the canvas in the world wouldn’t save the fat galleon in the treacherous shoals ahead. In those waters the helm required a softer hand than the priciest whore in a Mantessant’ brothel.

And Gal ran Her Ladyship with a crew of the finest gentlepirates Cerak At’Thul had ever seen.

“Ready da hooks an’ da balistre!”

They were practically rolling out the red carpet.
 
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The men below scurried like rats. If the pirates didn't get to them first, the rocks of her underwater home would sink the ship. The toothy grin didn't quite reach her eyes. She was in too much pain. She could already see the definition of two limbs just beneath the scales of her fins.

The men scrambled for knives and curved swords. They formed two lines of defense for the pirates. Running was no longer an option. Kai reached a hand through her cage bars toward the water of the bay far below. Scaly-arm glistened with an ethereal glow as the noon light hit her skin.

Come to me.

Tangled, dark braids plastered against her skin and face as a small plume of water began to rise between the crashing rocks and waves. The action was hard to see among the chaos happening on the other side. It wasn't the unnatural rise of the water itself that was important. It was what it was holding.
 
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Come to me.

Words beyond words. Couldn’t understand the language, but she felt its meaning slither like the scales of a young shark over her skin.

Sharp sharp sharp.

Gal drew in a quick breath. Instantly the glaze of battle in her eyes was gone, the itch in her fingers pushed to the back of her mind.

“There’s a mage on their ship!” she yelled as her feet hit the deck. Whatever was coming, she wasn’t gonna stand around on the bowsprit to receive it.

Snapping off commands, Gal had her crew running ragged to brace them on a parallel course with the other ship. Close enough to see their terror-warped faces; far enough to afford them leeway when the spells came flying.

Although…

Gal narrowed her eyes as she scanned the line of slavers rattling their weapons on the gunwale. The magic was still coming, still swirling like a hungry whirlpool, but it was…

Under the slaver ship?

No.

On it, yes, but tethered to the water around it.

Her red mouth split into a grin.

“Hold.”
 
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The high sun hit the metal of the trident making it glitter like a thousand sharp diamonds as it erupted from the murky depths, sailing through the air and right into the outstretched hand of Kai. Webbed-fingers closed around the handle. It was a perfect moment. Only a few of the sailors had caught the movement, most gaze trained on the pirate ship that was now along their side. Weapons would clash in an instant.

Twirling her wrist, trident tips would slash through the rope of her netted 'cage.' And for a moment, the Kivren would look like an avenging beast of the air instead of the avenging beast of the water she was. A cry of anger and pain ripped through her throat as she fell into the fray, trident plunging into one of the shoulders of the slaver.
 
“Fuck,” Gal exhaled, black eyes wide with awe and excitement.

Then, louder: “Down their masts!”

The song of battle filled her ears as the taut cords of ballistae sent the heavy missiles hissing through the air. They speared man and wood, ropes and wave, the splinters mauled timber showering down on the confused slavers.

Gal leapt down from her perch at the bow, sheathing her cutlass before racing up the rigging swift as a jungle cat. The bellows below grew louder as the two ships drew nearer. The sound of groaning pine and oak followed her into the skies as she swung onto the yard of the topmast, bronze skin glinting with salt and sweat.

With bated breath she balanced at the end of the yardarm until the opportune moment – the gale picked up again, heeling the slaver ship starboard. The Nazrani sprang forward like a spear from a ballista below, strong fingers catching onto the brace of slaver ship. With a wild grin she slid down a few feet, then flipped over to cut the line and swing right into the rear of the deckside fighting.

This, as far as Ngalu Do’Zei Imla Iwi Lua was concerned, was the life.
 
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