Al-Kamah was a smart pirate.
He could smell a storm coming like a rat in a sewer, and always got out ahead of the flood. Keen as Dwarven steel, cold as Nahas in winter, and canny as an Allirian gambler.
Al-Kamah was smart, period.
Thus he saw what was happening long before Gal did – saw the way his crew looked to the First mate even before their Captain shouted the orders, saw how they chose to leave with her whenever the party split on shore. At first he ignored it, because hell if the Nazrani couldn’t keep ship discipline like no other. The crew was sharp under her watch, swift to maneuver, to sink their claws into prey and shred them bloody.
Then the unacceptable happened. Stalking a merchant ship through the Cortosi shallows was no easy business, even with a draft as shallow as that of the Southern Wind. Arguing strategy, the two came to a head.
And the crew sided with her.
But Eshan was patient, too, and so he bode his time until they caught up with the Allirian trader and his wealth of silk and spice. But their Captain was no fool – he had Orcish mercs on board that fought like rabid dogs, and the day went to shit. Fast.
For hours they battled back and forth between the two tangled ships; the decks slippery with brine, the men slippery with sweat, and both drenched in blood.
In the end it was a stroke of luck. Drained of skill and strength, al-Kamah stumbled to the aftercastle of the enemy carrack as the fighting finally reached a lull. No sooner than he’d drawn a breath, Gal and the last remaining Orc burst out of the Captain’s cabin below in a shower of glass. He watched as the pair duelled all over the listing quarterdeck, baring fangs and spewing curses that neither understood.
A hasty plan began forming as he glanced around and saw that most of his men (her men) were scattered towards the bow, finishing off the rest of the mercenaries or shoving them over the gunwale into the foaming sea below.
It would be so easy.
A pained shriek pulled him back to the present. The Nazrani had tricked the Orc into stabbing his blade through the spokes of the steering wheel – now he hung awkwardly off the broken limb, stark white bone jutting out like a shipwrecked bowsprit. Gal grinned, spat out something in her tongue, and ran him bodily through.
In the next instant, al-Kamah was on her.
But in his haste he’d forgotten the nature of the beast. His rushed footsteps had the woman half-turning when he sank his dagger into her side. Instead of pickling her kidneys and leaving her to bleed out into the sea like a stuck pig, the edge caught a rib. The jarring impact shook his arm, threw off his aim, and gave Gal the split-second she needed to slam her forehead into his nose.
Everything went red. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe – he certainly couldn’t finish her off.
But ever ambitious, Eshan stabbed forward again and again. His bloodied knife found only empty air. In the distance, beyond the ringing in his ears and the drums of his heart, he heard a splash.
Something heavy hit the waves.
He stumbled forward, straining to hear through the cheering of his men with the heavy thing was swimming.
Nothing.
Al-Kamah sagged forward against the taffrail, sucking in one ragged inhale after another. The waves lapping at the starboard hull were tinted pink, and he grinned.
“Capo!”
He jerked around, his smirk lost to the sea. It wasn’t hard to feign exhaustion when the sun was going red and they’d boarded the merchant at noon.
“What is it, Kreeling?”
“Elo ancora vive,” said the pirate as he swiveled the point of his sword at the trapped Orc.
“Still? Tough bastard. Broke his arm, stabbed him in the gut… what’s a man got to do to kill one of these whoresons?”
“Ma… e l’espada d’Egal?”
Eshan stiffened. The men took it for anger. “I tried to save her, but… he got her in the side. Threw her over,” he tilted his head to the bloody smear on the railing. “Bastard of a loss we took today.”
The Orc grunted, eyes bulging as he tried to force a sound out of his raw throat. “Li—” he gasped, blood bubbling black on his lips. “Li—”
Al-Kamah stepped forward and slashed a decisive dagger across his taut neck. The mercenary twitched as he collapsed at his feet, one arm still dangling awkwardly through the steering wheel.
It was over.
“Grab whatever’s left and torch the rest! Next port, Cerak!”
Tired and injured as they were, the call brought new life to ambling limbs and drawn faces. The crew stepped to, a raucous shanty rising above the broken yards as they pillaged the hold. The sun hadn’t yet kissed the horizon when the Southern Wind unfurled her sails and left the merchant ship a burning beacon for the carrion crows of the sea.
Alone among the bodies and flotsam that leaked from the shipwreck, a woman stirred. She hauled herself halfway onto a broken plank, panting and wheezing. Coal eyes eyes found the speck of the brigantine making swift headway for the safety in the shadow of the Black fortress.
But for all the blood smeared on her lips, her words came out clear.
“Ka akina kamu, Eshan.”
And then a roar to spook the birds out of the sky, the fish out of the water.
“I will kill you!”
Brandar the Burned
He could smell a storm coming like a rat in a sewer, and always got out ahead of the flood. Keen as Dwarven steel, cold as Nahas in winter, and canny as an Allirian gambler.
Al-Kamah was smart, period.
Thus he saw what was happening long before Gal did – saw the way his crew looked to the First mate even before their Captain shouted the orders, saw how they chose to leave with her whenever the party split on shore. At first he ignored it, because hell if the Nazrani couldn’t keep ship discipline like no other. The crew was sharp under her watch, swift to maneuver, to sink their claws into prey and shred them bloody.
Then the unacceptable happened. Stalking a merchant ship through the Cortosi shallows was no easy business, even with a draft as shallow as that of the Southern Wind. Arguing strategy, the two came to a head.
And the crew sided with her.
But Eshan was patient, too, and so he bode his time until they caught up with the Allirian trader and his wealth of silk and spice. But their Captain was no fool – he had Orcish mercs on board that fought like rabid dogs, and the day went to shit. Fast.
For hours they battled back and forth between the two tangled ships; the decks slippery with brine, the men slippery with sweat, and both drenched in blood.
In the end it was a stroke of luck. Drained of skill and strength, al-Kamah stumbled to the aftercastle of the enemy carrack as the fighting finally reached a lull. No sooner than he’d drawn a breath, Gal and the last remaining Orc burst out of the Captain’s cabin below in a shower of glass. He watched as the pair duelled all over the listing quarterdeck, baring fangs and spewing curses that neither understood.
A hasty plan began forming as he glanced around and saw that most of his men (her men) were scattered towards the bow, finishing off the rest of the mercenaries or shoving them over the gunwale into the foaming sea below.
It would be so easy.
A pained shriek pulled him back to the present. The Nazrani had tricked the Orc into stabbing his blade through the spokes of the steering wheel – now he hung awkwardly off the broken limb, stark white bone jutting out like a shipwrecked bowsprit. Gal grinned, spat out something in her tongue, and ran him bodily through.
In the next instant, al-Kamah was on her.
But in his haste he’d forgotten the nature of the beast. His rushed footsteps had the woman half-turning when he sank his dagger into her side. Instead of pickling her kidneys and leaving her to bleed out into the sea like a stuck pig, the edge caught a rib. The jarring impact shook his arm, threw off his aim, and gave Gal the split-second she needed to slam her forehead into his nose.
Everything went red. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe – he certainly couldn’t finish her off.
But ever ambitious, Eshan stabbed forward again and again. His bloodied knife found only empty air. In the distance, beyond the ringing in his ears and the drums of his heart, he heard a splash.
Something heavy hit the waves.
He stumbled forward, straining to hear through the cheering of his men with the heavy thing was swimming.
Nothing.
Al-Kamah sagged forward against the taffrail, sucking in one ragged inhale after another. The waves lapping at the starboard hull were tinted pink, and he grinned.
“Capo!”
He jerked around, his smirk lost to the sea. It wasn’t hard to feign exhaustion when the sun was going red and they’d boarded the merchant at noon.
“What is it, Kreeling?”
“Elo ancora vive,” said the pirate as he swiveled the point of his sword at the trapped Orc.
“Still? Tough bastard. Broke his arm, stabbed him in the gut… what’s a man got to do to kill one of these whoresons?”
“Ma… e l’espada d’Egal?”
Eshan stiffened. The men took it for anger. “I tried to save her, but… he got her in the side. Threw her over,” he tilted his head to the bloody smear on the railing. “Bastard of a loss we took today.”
The Orc grunted, eyes bulging as he tried to force a sound out of his raw throat. “Li—” he gasped, blood bubbling black on his lips. “Li—”
Al-Kamah stepped forward and slashed a decisive dagger across his taut neck. The mercenary twitched as he collapsed at his feet, one arm still dangling awkwardly through the steering wheel.
It was over.
“Grab whatever’s left and torch the rest! Next port, Cerak!”
Tired and injured as they were, the call brought new life to ambling limbs and drawn faces. The crew stepped to, a raucous shanty rising above the broken yards as they pillaged the hold. The sun hadn’t yet kissed the horizon when the Southern Wind unfurled her sails and left the merchant ship a burning beacon for the carrion crows of the sea.
Alone among the bodies and flotsam that leaked from the shipwreck, a woman stirred. She hauled herself halfway onto a broken plank, panting and wheezing. Coal eyes eyes found the speck of the brigantine making swift headway for the safety in the shadow of the Black fortress.
But for all the blood smeared on her lips, her words came out clear.
“Ka akina kamu, Eshan.”
And then a roar to spook the birds out of the sky, the fish out of the water.
“I will kill you!”
Brandar the Burned