The Captain of the Vessel

[Airan]

Name: Skiz
Species: Pine Marten
Gender: Male
Age: 25 or so.
Category: Corsair? Captain of the Vessel.

Skiz silently stepped out of the cabin, wiping his bloody paws on the crimson sash around his waist. The pine marten placed the similarly blood-stained knife into the sash. Chachak, the ship's quartermaster,
quickly followed, his eyes nervously darting left and right.

"Skiz! Skiz, mate, where's the cap'n?" A burly weasel lumbered toward them, leading the triumphant crew and grinning in vicious delight. "Mosta their crew's dead, an' we captured theirs? their cap'n, I mean."

Skiz shared a long look with Chachak. The rat's tail whipped in obvious frustration. "He's dead, Ryju."

"Dead?" The weasel's grin faltered. "The cap'n?"

"Aye. I found him in his cabin with this knife in him."

"Wait," interjected a ferret. "That's Quoory's knife. Why would Quoory's knife be in 'im?"

"Yeah," chorused another crew member. "Where was dat rotten fox anyways? I fer shore didn't see 'im fight."

"Maybe 'e kilt the cap'n," yet another suggested.

Skiz rolled his eyes. "Quoory didn't kill the cap'n. A hare did."

Ryju rested his cutlass on his shoulders. "Well, Skiz, I guess that makes ya cap'n now, don' it? With ya bein' first mate an' all."

"Aye, and I don't want anybeast goin' around accusin' anybeast of murder. The situation's bad enough. We don't need to be distrustin' each other on top o' things. Right, Chachak?"

The rat, caught off guard, shot Skiz another look. "Aye, cap'n," he slowly replied. "Nobeast murdered anybeast."

Captain. Skiz grinned. He liked the sound of that. "Everyone get back ta work. Lessee if we can make this mess shipshape."

He leapt onto the rigging and, hanging precariously by his claws, surveyed the scene before him. The Bilge Rat floated intertwined with the Waverunner vessel. Both hulls were shattered in pieces, floating despondently in the water. Oddly enough, neither ship had the telltale rocking that was inherent to sailing on the sea.

"Well, keelhaul me grandmum," he muttered. "Chachak, is there any way we can get her shipshape at all?"

"Er, that's what I was gonna tell the cap'n, uh, cap'n," frowned the rat."Durin' the battle, we sailed inta a reef. Completely destroyed the hull, dinnit? We're pretty much scuttled."

"Hellgates. Supplies?"

"Intact. But we ain't got a lot, since we haven't made port in a long while. Not many ports left anyways."

"Damn badger," Skiz agreed. For another moment, he gazed silently at the wreckage, blood-stained sash streaming behind him in the wind. Then, the silence was shattered by a shout.

"Ship ahoy!"

Skiz dropped to the deck. "Get me a telescope, quick."

He gave a whoop, rushing to the side of the boat, and gave an exhilarated grin. "If we can take that ship, then we can sail outta here. Raise the Waverunner standard."

"The Waverunner standard, cap'n?" repeated Chachak, dubiously.

"Aye. Let's pull 'em into a trap. They'll come fer a Waverunner ship, no matter who they are. Ryju," Skiz bared his teeth. "Tell the crew to prepare for a fight."

Ryju returned the brutal grin. "Aye, Cap'n."

"Cap'n," came another shout. "Cap'n, they've raised a black flag."

Skiz paused. In the old world, a pirate would never fight another pirate. But this wasn't the old world. This was Atlas Stormstripe's world, and you had to be ready to do anything to survive.

Running past the prisoners, he stopped in front of their captain, a grizzled hare with a rather floppy plumed hat.

"Nice hat," Skiz observed. Chachak handed him the telescope. Gazing through, he focused on the flag, black and blood-red against the clear blue sky.

"Chachak, who sails under a bleeding wing?"

"The cap'n of The Silver Maiden."

Skiz grabbed the Waverunner captain's hat, perching it jauntily on his own head. "The Silver Maiden, you say?" Pulling out his cutlass, he gave a grim smile. He wished he didn't have to do this, but the old world was dying and he didn't want to die with it.

[Airan]

The Character's name: Captain Ciera Ancora
Character's species: Ferret
Character's gender: Female
Character's age: In human terms, somewhere between 29-32.
Category: The Captain of the Vessel

The mood in the hours following the skirmish was a sombre one. Captain Greyjaw of the Deadwake had been repelled, but at the cost of crewbeasts that The Silver Maiden could ill afford to lose. Grimly, the remaining crew set to restoring order. First, they had to take care of the bodies.

Ciera heard the muted splashes from her position in the hold. It was a grim reminder why she was about to do what she was about to do to Figgins.

Figgins had been the Deadwake?s lookout. Now the young wildcat was lashed to a chair, his fur matted with tears and blood. Hellgates, he?s just a child. Probably suckered in by the promise of treasure, too addlebrained to know what he was in for. Bet he never thought his first battle would end up like this.

She pitied the young fool. Not enough to change what was about to happen, though. That die had been cast long ago.

?I need to know where the Deadwake is heading,? she said. Again. ?I know you know something about their present course.?

Figgins said nothing, just hung his head and wept.

?Figgins!? she snapped sharply. Hellgates. Greyjaw had his hooks deep into this one, and Ciera was rapidly running out of both time and patience. Time for a different tack.

?Now listen here, you little puke. I watched your lot kill ten of my crew today. Big number, ten. Very big. So I?ll help you count it out on your claws, like so.? She seized one of the wildcat?s claws, and bent it sharply backwards at the joint. The bone snapped with an audible crack, prompting an unearthly scream of pain.

?That one?s for Ledder,? Ciera said, twisting sharply. ?He was a good messmate. Your crew slit his throat.?

She wrenched it back the other way, for emphasis. ?Now,? the ferret Captain whispered, staring coolly into Figgins? red-rimmed eyes, ?shall I tell you about the other nine??

Some time later, Ciera softly closed the door, and beckoned a waiting searat. ?Cut him loose, get him something to eat, and bandage his paw. Once he?s rested, put him to work. Nothing too strenuous, mind.?

The searat nodded understandingly. Crew was crew; The Silver Maiden couldn?t afford to be choosy about backgrounds, not in this day and age.

Ciera wearily made her way above decks, and had a word with the steersrat. Figgins had spilled everything he knew, which was enough for a new heading. It was a start, at least.

That done, she found a stretch of rail, and vomited over the side. Hellgates. He wasn?t much older than Rin.

She slumped down, suddenly exhausted. She could still hear the anguished screams. She deserved to. There were others who?d have gladly done the torturing, which was why she hadn?t let them. The burden needed to be borne by somebeast who understood that necessary evils were still evils. That was a captain?s duty.

She watched the endless expanse of blue-gray ocean lap against the side of the ship. How long had it been since she?d slept last? This treasure hunt? it was doing something to her. To the crew.

Ciera had always believed that there was a special place in Hellgates for captains like Greyjaw, sacrificing their own crewbeasts, slaughtering other crews to get a slight edge in a race for a treasure that, in point of fact? might not exist. But line between her and him was blurring, rapidly.

The once-crowded seas were emptying out, slowly but surely. They said piracy was dead, and with every passing day that became slightly truer; but if anything could get the corpse to twitch, it was Blade?s hoard. That treasure was more than gold, it was the future. And if Ciera Ancora had to float The Silver Maiden into that future on the blood of Figgins and a thousand like him? she?d do it.

[Airan]

Character's Name: Valencia
Species: Ferret
Gender: Female
Age: Early 30s
Category: Captain of the Silver Maiden

Smoke curled up from the brazier, winding its way past the dangling bones and charms that crowded the air, until it struck the pockmarked wood of the ceiling and burst, suffusing the cabin with the smell of burnt sage. On a desk tucked into the corner a ferret lightly snored, her breath ruffling the piles of paper and books stacked around her.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The ferret jerked awake, her large assortment of jewelry jingling, and the front two legs of her chair left the floor as she swung back violently. After a brief moment of panic, she managed to keep herself from spilling onto the heavily-chalked floorboards behind her. She then straightened her collar and called, "Yeah?"

"Cap'n Val, ya said ta wake ya up now, somethin' about addressin' the crew?"

"Right, I'll be dere in a bit; don't tell dem anyt'in'."

Valencia took a deep breath. The preparations were nearly complete, only one last detail to attend to. The ferret extinguished the smoldering sage and turned to the pot that hung over a small firepit in the middle of the room, which she lit with a candle from her desk.

Soon the odor of herbs was overpowered by the rich aroma of seafood stew. Valencia made one last check that all the symbols drawn on the floor were correct before starting; spirits knew what she'd end up with if just one of them happened to be wrong. Then she lit the ring of candles set in a wide circle around the pot, sat inside, closed her eyes, and waited. After a few minutes she opened her eyes to the sight of flames dancing despite the stuffy, airless atmosphere of the cabin.

"Ah, dere you are, Cap'n. Joo never could resist a good meal. Now, while your attention be with me..."

She produced a worn piece of parchment from inside her voluminous coat. "I'm sure joo recognize dis. Joo defended it wit' joor life, and only troo da blessin's a' da spirits did I get my paws on it. Now, I just want ta make sure dis be all right wit' you, before we end up wit' another curse on our heads."

The flames continued their frantic jig, but she must have seen - or felt - something, because Valencia smiled. "Thanks, Cap'n. I promise we'll do good by it, just joo wait."

The ferret opened a bottle, drained a quarter of it in one gulp and tossed the rest into the cooking fire, which leapt up to the ceiling before receding into embers. She then dipped a ladle into the pot and slurped. It was delicious- a good omen.

With the final preparations complete, Val threw open her cabin door, strode out, and slammed her cutlass into the deck. This wasn?t actually necessary, since the entire crew immediately fell silent and watched her attentively, but she liked the thunk! that the heavy blade -a souvenir from her Quartermaster days- made when it hit the old wood.

?Beasts of da Silver Maiden!? she began, casting her eyes over the motley assemblage, ?Dis day has been a long time in comin'. For ten long seasons we?ve had ta slink an? crawl like snakes t?escape our enemies, but dat comes to an end now. Because I have dis!?

The ferret reached into her coat and whipped out a piece of parchment almost identical to the one she?d showed to the stew earlier. Almost, but not exactly. The original remained in a hidden pocket directly above her heart, out of the way of prying fingers.

?Yes, my friends, it is exactly what joo t?ink it is- da map to the Captain?s treasure. Da spirits o? da wind n?waves have not abandoned us yet, and we will ride dem to claim what is rightfully ours!?

Her crew let out a mighty cheer, and Valencia smiled.

?Now, let?s go get rich!?