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Callidora had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach from the moment she and her husband left the ship’s cabin that morning, but she tried not to let it get the best of her. The waves had been particularly unforgiving the past few days—she did her best to attribute it to a passing seasickness. It was a reasonable enough explanation, even if it was rare for her. After all, she was a practical woman, even if she was a sailor; she tried not to let her life be controlled by silly superstitions.
But this felt different. Ominous. More than just the nausea of the rocking sea. When she felt this… disaster was sure to follow. It had before.
Demetrius seemed to pick up on her mood, as well, giving her a few worried glances from the corner of his eye. He knew better than to confront her, however; Dora would let herself bleed out before she’d ever admit she was hurt. It was a stubbornness they shared in common, and was both what made them so compatible, while also contributing to many an unnecessary battle. Over the years, her husband had come to learn how to more carefully choose those particular battles.
The golden-haired woman stood at the prow of the ship, simple white chiton fluttering in the salty breeze. Eyes sharp on the clouds gathering at the horizon, she tried not to let paranoia get the better of her—trying to assure herself that the sick feeling would go away, so long as she kept her focus on a steady point. As morning wore on into afternoon and the sky got darker, it became painfully evident that wasn’t the case, and so she pushed back from the rail with a sigh of frustration. She might as well make herself useful to keep her mind off it.
Joining her husband at the helm, Callidora offered a brief smile while cautiously eyeing the broiling clouds that seemed to be getting closer and closer. No wonder the waves had been so choppy with a storm that size heading their way. “Perhaps we ought to find somewhere to anchor down,” Dora cautioned Demetrius, lightly grasping at his arm. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
The merchant captain nodded in agreement, his own gaze lingering on the approaching storm. “We’re a bit far out is the problem,” he replied with a slight shake of his head, his jaw clenched with an ill-concealed anxiety. “I’m not sure there’s anywhere nearby we can ride this out with any hope of safety. Poseidon help us, but I think we’re just going to have to batten down the sails and pray for the best.”
A worried glance was shared between the couple, Dora opening her mouth to reply, but soon cut off by one of the approaching deckhands. “Begging your pardon, Captain, missus,” the large man interrupted, nodding to each of them in turn. “But that’s not the only problem we’ve got right now.”
Demetrius looked at the sailor with a cock of his brow, his irritation in being interrupted evident on his face. “What is it, Arktos?”
A hefty shoulder lifted in a shrug, one brawny arm reaching to point to the southeast. “We’ve got company. Been tailing us at least a mile now.”
Incredulous, Callidora and Demetrius both looked at Arktos, then back to where he pointed. “And you didn’t think to say anything before now?” Dora’s voice was dangerously calm, but the look on her face was anything but.
The other man’s, in contrast, didn’t seem very perturbed, shrugging again. “Wanted to be sure before I said anything. But we might want to speed it up, yeah? Whoever it is, friendly or not, they’re gaining, and probably best we don’t get caught between the storm and them. Coming at us that fast… I doubt they’re friendly.”
Pirates. Husband and wife shared a knowing glance before Demetrius was barking orders, Callidora falling back to give him and Arktos both room. Of course, none of them could be sure that was the case, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Better to be prepared for the worst and have nothing happen than the opposite.
Should’ve listened to my gut, Dora thought to herself, moving to the stern and holding onto the rail with a steely determination as she watched the other ship. Poseidon, watch us over us all. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Callidora had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach from the moment she and her husband left the ship’s cabin that morning, but she tried not to let it get the best of her. The waves had been particularly unforgiving the past few days—she did her best to attribute it to a passing seasickness. It was a reasonable enough explanation, even if it was rare for her. After all, she was a practical woman, even if she was a sailor; she tried not to let her life be controlled by silly superstitions.
But this felt different. Ominous. More than just the nausea of the rocking sea. When she felt this… disaster was sure to follow. It had before.
Demetrius seemed to pick up on her mood, as well, giving her a few worried glances from the corner of his eye. He knew better than to confront her, however; Dora would let herself bleed out before she’d ever admit she was hurt. It was a stubbornness they shared in common, and was both what made them so compatible, while also contributing to many an unnecessary battle. Over the years, her husband had come to learn how to more carefully choose those particular battles.
The golden-haired woman stood at the prow of the ship, simple white chiton fluttering in the salty breeze. Eyes sharp on the clouds gathering at the horizon, she tried not to let paranoia get the better of her—trying to assure herself that the sick feeling would go away, so long as she kept her focus on a steady point. As morning wore on into afternoon and the sky got darker, it became painfully evident that wasn’t the case, and so she pushed back from the rail with a sigh of frustration. She might as well make herself useful to keep her mind off it.
Joining her husband at the helm, Callidora offered a brief smile while cautiously eyeing the broiling clouds that seemed to be getting closer and closer. No wonder the waves had been so choppy with a storm that size heading their way. “Perhaps we ought to find somewhere to anchor down,” Dora cautioned Demetrius, lightly grasping at his arm. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
The merchant captain nodded in agreement, his own gaze lingering on the approaching storm. “We’re a bit far out is the problem,” he replied with a slight shake of his head, his jaw clenched with an ill-concealed anxiety. “I’m not sure there’s anywhere nearby we can ride this out with any hope of safety. Poseidon help us, but I think we’re just going to have to batten down the sails and pray for the best.”
A worried glance was shared between the couple, Dora opening her mouth to reply, but soon cut off by one of the approaching deckhands. “Begging your pardon, Captain, missus,” the large man interrupted, nodding to each of them in turn. “But that’s not the only problem we’ve got right now.”
Demetrius looked at the sailor with a cock of his brow, his irritation in being interrupted evident on his face. “What is it, Arktos?”
A hefty shoulder lifted in a shrug, one brawny arm reaching to point to the southeast. “We’ve got company. Been tailing us at least a mile now.”
Incredulous, Callidora and Demetrius both looked at Arktos, then back to where he pointed. “And you didn’t think to say anything before now?” Dora’s voice was dangerously calm, but the look on her face was anything but.
The other man’s, in contrast, didn’t seem very perturbed, shrugging again. “Wanted to be sure before I said anything. But we might want to speed it up, yeah? Whoever it is, friendly or not, they’re gaining, and probably best we don’t get caught between the storm and them. Coming at us that fast… I doubt they’re friendly.”
Pirates. Husband and wife shared a knowing glance before Demetrius was barking orders, Callidora falling back to give him and Arktos both room. Of course, none of them could be sure that was the case, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Better to be prepared for the worst and have nothing happen than the opposite.
Should’ve listened to my gut, Dora thought to herself, moving to the stern and holding onto the rail with a steely determination as she watched the other ship. Poseidon, watch us over us all. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.
Callidora had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach from the moment she and her husband left the ship’s cabin that morning, but she tried not to let it get the best of her. The waves had been particularly unforgiving the past few days—she did her best to attribute it to a passing seasickness. It was a reasonable enough explanation, even if it was rare for her. After all, she was a practical woman, even if she was a sailor; she tried not to let her life be controlled by silly superstitions.
But this felt different. Ominous. More than just the nausea of the rocking sea. When she felt this… disaster was sure to follow. It had before.
Demetrius seemed to pick up on her mood, as well, giving her a few worried glances from the corner of his eye. He knew better than to confront her, however; Dora would let herself bleed out before she’d ever admit she was hurt. It was a stubbornness they shared in common, and was both what made them so compatible, while also contributing to many an unnecessary battle. Over the years, her husband had come to learn how to more carefully choose those particular battles.
The golden-haired woman stood at the prow of the ship, simple white chiton fluttering in the salty breeze. Eyes sharp on the clouds gathering at the horizon, she tried not to let paranoia get the better of her—trying to assure herself that the sick feeling would go away, so long as she kept her focus on a steady point. As morning wore on into afternoon and the sky got darker, it became painfully evident that wasn’t the case, and so she pushed back from the rail with a sigh of frustration. She might as well make herself useful to keep her mind off it.
Joining her husband at the helm, Callidora offered a brief smile while cautiously eyeing the broiling clouds that seemed to be getting closer and closer. No wonder the waves had been so choppy with a storm that size heading their way. “Perhaps we ought to find somewhere to anchor down,” Dora cautioned Demetrius, lightly grasping at his arm. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
The merchant captain nodded in agreement, his own gaze lingering on the approaching storm. “We’re a bit far out is the problem,” he replied with a slight shake of his head, his jaw clenched with an ill-concealed anxiety. “I’m not sure there’s anywhere nearby we can ride this out with any hope of safety. Poseidon help us, but I think we’re just going to have to batten down the sails and pray for the best.”
A worried glance was shared between the couple, Dora opening her mouth to reply, but soon cut off by one of the approaching deckhands. “Begging your pardon, Captain, missus,” the large man interrupted, nodding to each of them in turn. “But that’s not the only problem we’ve got right now.”
Demetrius looked at the sailor with a cock of his brow, his irritation in being interrupted evident on his face. “What is it, Arktos?”
A hefty shoulder lifted in a shrug, one brawny arm reaching to point to the southeast. “We’ve got company. Been tailing us at least a mile now.”
Incredulous, Callidora and Demetrius both looked at Arktos, then back to where he pointed. “And you didn’t think to say anything before now?” Dora’s voice was dangerously calm, but the look on her face was anything but.
The other man’s, in contrast, didn’t seem very perturbed, shrugging again. “Wanted to be sure before I said anything. But we might want to speed it up, yeah? Whoever it is, friendly or not, they’re gaining, and probably best we don’t get caught between the storm and them. Coming at us that fast… I doubt they’re friendly.”
Pirates. Husband and wife shared a knowing glance before Demetrius was barking orders, Callidora falling back to give him and Arktos both room. Of course, none of them could be sure that was the case, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Better to be prepared for the worst and have nothing happen than the opposite.
Should’ve listened to my gut, Dora thought to herself, moving to the stern and holding onto the rail with a steely determination as she watched the other ship. Poseidon, watch us over us all. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.
Water surged below his window in that comforting, familiar whispering sigh that sometimes made the ocean sound like it was trying to speak. He nestled down further into his pillow, warm and comfortable, alone in his cabin bed, listening to the creaking of the ship,. With the light as weak as it was, he didn’t feel quite like getting up yet, but he could already hear the first stirrings of life, trudging up the stairs from the hold. Groaning to himself, he pushed back the covers and slid naked from the bed, sitting on the side and rubbing his face to work some sort of alert state into his thoughts. The beer from last night was trying to catch up with him; he could feel the edge of a hangover creeping close enough to make him feel groggy but not enough to cause pain.
Allowing himself to sit for only a few moments, he pushed up to his feet and slipped on his trousers and shirt that he’d lain on the table last night. His boots were fished out from under the bed. Beyond that, he needed nothing else and opened his door, turning sharply to the right and heading down the short, dark passage way until he came to a sort of crossroads of the ship’s interior. If he kept going, he would walk straight down the stairs that would lead him down to the next level where the men slept and where his scribe had his station and records set up. Lower than that in the hold sat cages freshly empty of their captives, barrels of fresh water and food, and all manner of other odds and ends that were occasionally needed. If he went slightly to the left, he’d enter the portion of the ship where benches sat in a long row. In this place, he spent a good few hours every day, rowing along with everyone else to the drone of the drum beat, propelling them through the water with as much speed as any ship could do. When they were aided by wind, they were the most dangerous presence on the Aegean.
Instead of going to any of these places, he turned sharply left and pounded up the stairs, bursting onto the deck and into the glory of sunlight, reigning down from an unending sky. A few men were already on deck, the most important of which was Hedrion, his ship’s cook. Seeing the captain was now awake and in need of food, the stout little man ambled over, handing Lukos his share of water and dried, salted meat, along with figs. It was not a lot but Lukos was used to eating lean meals whilst at sea and his form reflected it. Rowing for hours at a time and eating only enough to sustain him gave him a hard torso with very little fat. He looked nothing like the lazy, indolent rich who lazed about their villas or shouted until they were red in the face in the senate.
Taking his food to the top deck, he leaned on the railing, watching the horizon ahead of them. Even before he saw the clouds, he could smell the rain on the wind. A storm was coming and there sat a tiny speck at the world’s edge, like the smallest scratch of pebble sitting on the rim of a clear, blue glass bowl. He smiled, knowing already what it was, due to its proximity in these waters. A merchant vessel. Happy morning indeed. Sucking on the end of his thumb to get the last taste of the fig, he pushed away from the railing and drummed down the stairs until he hit the middeck.
“Is Achaeus still asleep?” he posed the question to no one in particular but it was as though the question itself conjured his first mate. Achaeus moved slowly up the steps. Already an old man, Achaeus was as seahardened as any, but his time was coming to an abrupt close. He favored one leg heavily as he moved toward Lukos, squinting in the light.
“Captain,” he groused. The difference in age between them was at least fifty years but when Lukos had murdered his way to Captaincy a mere eight years ago, Achaeus had accepted the change in power without question. Since he was a child, Lukos had been on good terms with this man, though he was no father figure - not by a long shot. But their system worked well, or had been, at least. Now Achaeus was a bear to be around when storms rose up and in this season, that meant that Lukos wanted to push him into the Aegean or often than not.
“Look,” Lukos pointed. “There, see it?”
Achaeus glared at the horizon. “No,” he said flatly and limped to the bow of the ship and gripped the railing, using it to support his weight. Lukos crossed his arms and walked idly toward him, waiting. He did not speak while he watched Achaeus search the horizon and realized that his first mate wasn’t being ornery; he really couldn’t see clearly at that distance. He sighed. Yet another reason to replace him.
“It’s a ship,” Lukos said and didn’t quailwhen Achaeus curled his lip into a snarl and pointed a gnarled finger in his direction.
“I know it’s a ship,” he lied. “I was trying to see which kind.”
Lukos rolled his eyes. Not even he could see that well. “We’re going to board her,” he grinned at the glint in Achaeus’s eye. It pleased him that the old dog still could take pleasure in the ruination of another vessel. “We’re going to overtake her before nightfall, understand?” Lukos went on.
Achaeus nodded and stepped back. “Understood, Captain.” The old man swung around with surprising vigor, considering how he’d been coddling his leg before. His voice boomed across the deck, rousing the entire ship, shouting names of the best rowers to man their stations.
Lukos smirked to himself and remained at the bow while activity picked up around him. His dark eyes remained on the prize ahead. Soon he’d be on that ship’s deck, the captain begging for mercy at his feet, while his crew lifted anything of worth the ship had - people included. Within minutes, the drumbeat sounded from beneath the decking, vibrating the entire ship. It was a sound so familiar that he found it incredibly soothing. Huge wooden oars extended from the sides of the ship, splashing into the water. With his feet positioned just so, he easily rode out the sudden lunge the Aceton took through the waves. Crashing into another wave head and breaking through it, they drew closer to their prey.
At this speed, they would reach the merchant vessel before nightfall. There was no need to play coy with their intent to meet the other ship. Speed was what mattered. This was the open ocean. Neither ship had the ability to hide. It was a matter of catching up and staying in their blindspot for as long as possible, though there was no way to know exactly how long that might be. For the moment, they didn’t have their oars out and they didn’t appear to be running.
The storm was still miles and miles away by mid afternoon but on the ocean, that didn’t mean anything. There were no mountains to slow down the winds that they had to contend with that were also causing huge, rolling waves. “I want them rowing faster!” He barked at Achaeus. “I want to be well away from that ship before the storm hits.”
Achaeus limped down to the oar-men to shout at the drummer to increase the tempo. The rowers naturally followed the drum’s beat and the Aceton darted through the waters, nearly overtaking the merchant vessel within half an hour. Lukos stood on the railing, arm tangled in rope from the mast, in very little danger of falling into the water with such a secure tie. They were close enough to see bodies swarming on the ship. He could even pick out hair color and see that there was a woman aboard.
He grinned.
His men were ready on his deck. They stood armed and ready to commit bloody savagery. Several of them held long poles with wicked hooks at the ends, designed to pull the other ship close enough so that the hooked boards that were being held by a few of Lukos’s other men could be set down and attached to both railings. This would keep the ships tethered together so that the pirates could simply run across. Lukos was poised to leap across the gap.
He loved this part. The thrill that came with watching people scurry about on the other ship, loved knowing that their worst fears were about to be realized. He could practically smell their terror from here and the closer his ship came, the more their faces came into focus. If they had any real fighters on that ship, he’d be shocked. “Permission to come aboard!” he shouted, laughing, once they were close enough.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Water surged below his window in that comforting, familiar whispering sigh that sometimes made the ocean sound like it was trying to speak. He nestled down further into his pillow, warm and comfortable, alone in his cabin bed, listening to the creaking of the ship,. With the light as weak as it was, he didn’t feel quite like getting up yet, but he could already hear the first stirrings of life, trudging up the stairs from the hold. Groaning to himself, he pushed back the covers and slid naked from the bed, sitting on the side and rubbing his face to work some sort of alert state into his thoughts. The beer from last night was trying to catch up with him; he could feel the edge of a hangover creeping close enough to make him feel groggy but not enough to cause pain.
Allowing himself to sit for only a few moments, he pushed up to his feet and slipped on his trousers and shirt that he’d lain on the table last night. His boots were fished out from under the bed. Beyond that, he needed nothing else and opened his door, turning sharply to the right and heading down the short, dark passage way until he came to a sort of crossroads of the ship’s interior. If he kept going, he would walk straight down the stairs that would lead him down to the next level where the men slept and where his scribe had his station and records set up. Lower than that in the hold sat cages freshly empty of their captives, barrels of fresh water and food, and all manner of other odds and ends that were occasionally needed. If he went slightly to the left, he’d enter the portion of the ship where benches sat in a long row. In this place, he spent a good few hours every day, rowing along with everyone else to the drone of the drum beat, propelling them through the water with as much speed as any ship could do. When they were aided by wind, they were the most dangerous presence on the Aegean.
Instead of going to any of these places, he turned sharply left and pounded up the stairs, bursting onto the deck and into the glory of sunlight, reigning down from an unending sky. A few men were already on deck, the most important of which was Hedrion, his ship’s cook. Seeing the captain was now awake and in need of food, the stout little man ambled over, handing Lukos his share of water and dried, salted meat, along with figs. It was not a lot but Lukos was used to eating lean meals whilst at sea and his form reflected it. Rowing for hours at a time and eating only enough to sustain him gave him a hard torso with very little fat. He looked nothing like the lazy, indolent rich who lazed about their villas or shouted until they were red in the face in the senate.
Taking his food to the top deck, he leaned on the railing, watching the horizon ahead of them. Even before he saw the clouds, he could smell the rain on the wind. A storm was coming and there sat a tiny speck at the world’s edge, like the smallest scratch of pebble sitting on the rim of a clear, blue glass bowl. He smiled, knowing already what it was, due to its proximity in these waters. A merchant vessel. Happy morning indeed. Sucking on the end of his thumb to get the last taste of the fig, he pushed away from the railing and drummed down the stairs until he hit the middeck.
“Is Achaeus still asleep?” he posed the question to no one in particular but it was as though the question itself conjured his first mate. Achaeus moved slowly up the steps. Already an old man, Achaeus was as seahardened as any, but his time was coming to an abrupt close. He favored one leg heavily as he moved toward Lukos, squinting in the light.
“Captain,” he groused. The difference in age between them was at least fifty years but when Lukos had murdered his way to Captaincy a mere eight years ago, Achaeus had accepted the change in power without question. Since he was a child, Lukos had been on good terms with this man, though he was no father figure - not by a long shot. But their system worked well, or had been, at least. Now Achaeus was a bear to be around when storms rose up and in this season, that meant that Lukos wanted to push him into the Aegean or often than not.
“Look,” Lukos pointed. “There, see it?”
Achaeus glared at the horizon. “No,” he said flatly and limped to the bow of the ship and gripped the railing, using it to support his weight. Lukos crossed his arms and walked idly toward him, waiting. He did not speak while he watched Achaeus search the horizon and realized that his first mate wasn’t being ornery; he really couldn’t see clearly at that distance. He sighed. Yet another reason to replace him.
“It’s a ship,” Lukos said and didn’t quailwhen Achaeus curled his lip into a snarl and pointed a gnarled finger in his direction.
“I know it’s a ship,” he lied. “I was trying to see which kind.”
Lukos rolled his eyes. Not even he could see that well. “We’re going to board her,” he grinned at the glint in Achaeus’s eye. It pleased him that the old dog still could take pleasure in the ruination of another vessel. “We’re going to overtake her before nightfall, understand?” Lukos went on.
Achaeus nodded and stepped back. “Understood, Captain.” The old man swung around with surprising vigor, considering how he’d been coddling his leg before. His voice boomed across the deck, rousing the entire ship, shouting names of the best rowers to man their stations.
Lukos smirked to himself and remained at the bow while activity picked up around him. His dark eyes remained on the prize ahead. Soon he’d be on that ship’s deck, the captain begging for mercy at his feet, while his crew lifted anything of worth the ship had - people included. Within minutes, the drumbeat sounded from beneath the decking, vibrating the entire ship. It was a sound so familiar that he found it incredibly soothing. Huge wooden oars extended from the sides of the ship, splashing into the water. With his feet positioned just so, he easily rode out the sudden lunge the Aceton took through the waves. Crashing into another wave head and breaking through it, they drew closer to their prey.
At this speed, they would reach the merchant vessel before nightfall. There was no need to play coy with their intent to meet the other ship. Speed was what mattered. This was the open ocean. Neither ship had the ability to hide. It was a matter of catching up and staying in their blindspot for as long as possible, though there was no way to know exactly how long that might be. For the moment, they didn’t have their oars out and they didn’t appear to be running.
The storm was still miles and miles away by mid afternoon but on the ocean, that didn’t mean anything. There were no mountains to slow down the winds that they had to contend with that were also causing huge, rolling waves. “I want them rowing faster!” He barked at Achaeus. “I want to be well away from that ship before the storm hits.”
Achaeus limped down to the oar-men to shout at the drummer to increase the tempo. The rowers naturally followed the drum’s beat and the Aceton darted through the waters, nearly overtaking the merchant vessel within half an hour. Lukos stood on the railing, arm tangled in rope from the mast, in very little danger of falling into the water with such a secure tie. They were close enough to see bodies swarming on the ship. He could even pick out hair color and see that there was a woman aboard.
He grinned.
His men were ready on his deck. They stood armed and ready to commit bloody savagery. Several of them held long poles with wicked hooks at the ends, designed to pull the other ship close enough so that the hooked boards that were being held by a few of Lukos’s other men could be set down and attached to both railings. This would keep the ships tethered together so that the pirates could simply run across. Lukos was poised to leap across the gap.
He loved this part. The thrill that came with watching people scurry about on the other ship, loved knowing that their worst fears were about to be realized. He could practically smell their terror from here and the closer his ship came, the more their faces came into focus. If they had any real fighters on that ship, he’d be shocked. “Permission to come aboard!” he shouted, laughing, once they were close enough.
Water surged below his window in that comforting, familiar whispering sigh that sometimes made the ocean sound like it was trying to speak. He nestled down further into his pillow, warm and comfortable, alone in his cabin bed, listening to the creaking of the ship,. With the light as weak as it was, he didn’t feel quite like getting up yet, but he could already hear the first stirrings of life, trudging up the stairs from the hold. Groaning to himself, he pushed back the covers and slid naked from the bed, sitting on the side and rubbing his face to work some sort of alert state into his thoughts. The beer from last night was trying to catch up with him; he could feel the edge of a hangover creeping close enough to make him feel groggy but not enough to cause pain.
Allowing himself to sit for only a few moments, he pushed up to his feet and slipped on his trousers and shirt that he’d lain on the table last night. His boots were fished out from under the bed. Beyond that, he needed nothing else and opened his door, turning sharply to the right and heading down the short, dark passage way until he came to a sort of crossroads of the ship’s interior. If he kept going, he would walk straight down the stairs that would lead him down to the next level where the men slept and where his scribe had his station and records set up. Lower than that in the hold sat cages freshly empty of their captives, barrels of fresh water and food, and all manner of other odds and ends that were occasionally needed. If he went slightly to the left, he’d enter the portion of the ship where benches sat in a long row. In this place, he spent a good few hours every day, rowing along with everyone else to the drone of the drum beat, propelling them through the water with as much speed as any ship could do. When they were aided by wind, they were the most dangerous presence on the Aegean.
Instead of going to any of these places, he turned sharply left and pounded up the stairs, bursting onto the deck and into the glory of sunlight, reigning down from an unending sky. A few men were already on deck, the most important of which was Hedrion, his ship’s cook. Seeing the captain was now awake and in need of food, the stout little man ambled over, handing Lukos his share of water and dried, salted meat, along with figs. It was not a lot but Lukos was used to eating lean meals whilst at sea and his form reflected it. Rowing for hours at a time and eating only enough to sustain him gave him a hard torso with very little fat. He looked nothing like the lazy, indolent rich who lazed about their villas or shouted until they were red in the face in the senate.
Taking his food to the top deck, he leaned on the railing, watching the horizon ahead of them. Even before he saw the clouds, he could smell the rain on the wind. A storm was coming and there sat a tiny speck at the world’s edge, like the smallest scratch of pebble sitting on the rim of a clear, blue glass bowl. He smiled, knowing already what it was, due to its proximity in these waters. A merchant vessel. Happy morning indeed. Sucking on the end of his thumb to get the last taste of the fig, he pushed away from the railing and drummed down the stairs until he hit the middeck.
“Is Achaeus still asleep?” he posed the question to no one in particular but it was as though the question itself conjured his first mate. Achaeus moved slowly up the steps. Already an old man, Achaeus was as seahardened as any, but his time was coming to an abrupt close. He favored one leg heavily as he moved toward Lukos, squinting in the light.
“Captain,” he groused. The difference in age between them was at least fifty years but when Lukos had murdered his way to Captaincy a mere eight years ago, Achaeus had accepted the change in power without question. Since he was a child, Lukos had been on good terms with this man, though he was no father figure - not by a long shot. But their system worked well, or had been, at least. Now Achaeus was a bear to be around when storms rose up and in this season, that meant that Lukos wanted to push him into the Aegean or often than not.
“Look,” Lukos pointed. “There, see it?”
Achaeus glared at the horizon. “No,” he said flatly and limped to the bow of the ship and gripped the railing, using it to support his weight. Lukos crossed his arms and walked idly toward him, waiting. He did not speak while he watched Achaeus search the horizon and realized that his first mate wasn’t being ornery; he really couldn’t see clearly at that distance. He sighed. Yet another reason to replace him.
“It’s a ship,” Lukos said and didn’t quailwhen Achaeus curled his lip into a snarl and pointed a gnarled finger in his direction.
“I know it’s a ship,” he lied. “I was trying to see which kind.”
Lukos rolled his eyes. Not even he could see that well. “We’re going to board her,” he grinned at the glint in Achaeus’s eye. It pleased him that the old dog still could take pleasure in the ruination of another vessel. “We’re going to overtake her before nightfall, understand?” Lukos went on.
Achaeus nodded and stepped back. “Understood, Captain.” The old man swung around with surprising vigor, considering how he’d been coddling his leg before. His voice boomed across the deck, rousing the entire ship, shouting names of the best rowers to man their stations.
Lukos smirked to himself and remained at the bow while activity picked up around him. His dark eyes remained on the prize ahead. Soon he’d be on that ship’s deck, the captain begging for mercy at his feet, while his crew lifted anything of worth the ship had - people included. Within minutes, the drumbeat sounded from beneath the decking, vibrating the entire ship. It was a sound so familiar that he found it incredibly soothing. Huge wooden oars extended from the sides of the ship, splashing into the water. With his feet positioned just so, he easily rode out the sudden lunge the Aceton took through the waves. Crashing into another wave head and breaking through it, they drew closer to their prey.
At this speed, they would reach the merchant vessel before nightfall. There was no need to play coy with their intent to meet the other ship. Speed was what mattered. This was the open ocean. Neither ship had the ability to hide. It was a matter of catching up and staying in their blindspot for as long as possible, though there was no way to know exactly how long that might be. For the moment, they didn’t have their oars out and they didn’t appear to be running.
The storm was still miles and miles away by mid afternoon but on the ocean, that didn’t mean anything. There were no mountains to slow down the winds that they had to contend with that were also causing huge, rolling waves. “I want them rowing faster!” He barked at Achaeus. “I want to be well away from that ship before the storm hits.”
Achaeus limped down to the oar-men to shout at the drummer to increase the tempo. The rowers naturally followed the drum’s beat and the Aceton darted through the waters, nearly overtaking the merchant vessel within half an hour. Lukos stood on the railing, arm tangled in rope from the mast, in very little danger of falling into the water with such a secure tie. They were close enough to see bodies swarming on the ship. He could even pick out hair color and see that there was a woman aboard.
He grinned.
His men were ready on his deck. They stood armed and ready to commit bloody savagery. Several of them held long poles with wicked hooks at the ends, designed to pull the other ship close enough so that the hooked boards that were being held by a few of Lukos’s other men could be set down and attached to both railings. This would keep the ships tethered together so that the pirates could simply run across. Lukos was poised to leap across the gap.
He loved this part. The thrill that came with watching people scurry about on the other ship, loved knowing that their worst fears were about to be realized. He could practically smell their terror from here and the closer his ship came, the more their faces came into focus. If they had any real fighters on that ship, he’d be shocked. “Permission to come aboard!” he shouted, laughing, once they were close enough.
The activity aboard Poseidon’s Pride was practically a mirror image of the Aceton, sailors scurrying to their posts to prepare the ship for the chase. Casks of water-rotting food were tossed overboard, along with anything else deemed unnecessary in that moment—anything and everything that wasn’t meant to be sold, including a few things that were. Demetrius strode the deck shouting orders back and forth while Arktos hurried to ensure those orders were carried out. Callidora merely stood at the helm with her hands clenched painfully tight on the railing. Unfortunately, there was little else she could do.
Rowers set forth with a mighty heave, the drumbeats below a dramatic backdrop to the scene unfolding around them. She could feel the significant burst in speed as the ship leapt forward into the waves, but keeping her eyes trained on the other ship that was quickly gaining, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough. There was no longer any doubt that they were being followed, their pursuers close enough that she could hear the yell of the sailors and their own percussive counterrhythm that caressed her ears with a sinister promise.
They weren’t coming out of this unscathed.
“Callidora, get down to the cabin!” Demetrius bellowed the order from behind her, adjusting the tiller so that the sail would better catch the wind. His words were nearly whipped away in the salt spray, but they were just loud enough to turn her head in his direction.
Stubbornly clenching her jaw, Dora shook her head, pulling her dagger from beneath her chiton. “I’m not leaving you,” she insisted in her own echoing shout, brandishing her weapon at her husband to punctuate her point. “If they swarm the ship, I stand a better chance if I can jump overboard than if I’m trapped beneath the deck. You’ll not be rid of me, Demetrius. If we’re going down, we’re going down together!”
“Woman, will you not heed me for once in your life?!” was the captain’s angry retort, tugging at a nearby rope with a furious jerk. However, the look on her face made it clear she wasn’t going to give in, not on this one. Even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, he had to admit she had a point. If they were overwhelmed, at least he knew she could swim. Better to take her chances there and eventually drown than whatever these vagabonds would surely put her through if they had her cornered.
“I won’t,” was all Dora said in response, fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of her knife. Growling, Demetrius didn’t fight her any further, instead focusing his efforts on hastening his vessel along in the vain hope that they could evade the pirates close behind.
It was hardly another few minutes before the other ship was alongside theirs, a cold knot of dread and horror forming in the pit of Dora’s stomach. She’d known they couldn’t run when she saw how fast the rival vessel was coming up on them, but she’d dared to hope for a miracle, as useless as it was. What else could she do when Death came hurtling at them on crimson sails?
Permission to come aboard!
Nearly every eye present on Poseidon’s Pride was drawn toward that voice that threatened them with a laugh, Dora’s included. Clenching her dagger even tighter, she stared down the man with blatant hatred on her high-boned face while Demetrius stepped forward to block her from the pirate’s view.
“Permission not granted,” was his dry response, his hand resting on the hilt of his own blade. He barely knew how to use it, but their attackers didn’t need to know that. Perhaps there was still the chance they could be reasoned with? Eyeing the weaponry held by various gnarled and determined hands, he somehow doubted that was the case.
Bowstrings were held taut by the pitiful handful of archers positioned around the ship, Arktos holding up his hand to keep their fire at bay. If they loosed the first shot, this would dissolve into violence quickly. Better to defend than attack when they were this outnumbered. They would have to be strategic if they had any hope of coming out of this with their lives.
“We’re sailing here by the King’s own orders,” Demetrius informed their antagonists, which was a blatant lie, albeit a fairly convincing one. “I’d kindly suggest you head in the other direction, lest you dare to face His Majesty’s wrath.”
Callidora doubted the pirates would care much for such empty threats, but she held her breath as she waited for the other man’s response. If he reacted the way she suspected he would… well… it looked like she’d better prepare for a long swim.
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The activity aboard Poseidon’s Pride was practically a mirror image of the Aceton, sailors scurrying to their posts to prepare the ship for the chase. Casks of water-rotting food were tossed overboard, along with anything else deemed unnecessary in that moment—anything and everything that wasn’t meant to be sold, including a few things that were. Demetrius strode the deck shouting orders back and forth while Arktos hurried to ensure those orders were carried out. Callidora merely stood at the helm with her hands clenched painfully tight on the railing. Unfortunately, there was little else she could do.
Rowers set forth with a mighty heave, the drumbeats below a dramatic backdrop to the scene unfolding around them. She could feel the significant burst in speed as the ship leapt forward into the waves, but keeping her eyes trained on the other ship that was quickly gaining, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough. There was no longer any doubt that they were being followed, their pursuers close enough that she could hear the yell of the sailors and their own percussive counterrhythm that caressed her ears with a sinister promise.
They weren’t coming out of this unscathed.
“Callidora, get down to the cabin!” Demetrius bellowed the order from behind her, adjusting the tiller so that the sail would better catch the wind. His words were nearly whipped away in the salt spray, but they were just loud enough to turn her head in his direction.
Stubbornly clenching her jaw, Dora shook her head, pulling her dagger from beneath her chiton. “I’m not leaving you,” she insisted in her own echoing shout, brandishing her weapon at her husband to punctuate her point. “If they swarm the ship, I stand a better chance if I can jump overboard than if I’m trapped beneath the deck. You’ll not be rid of me, Demetrius. If we’re going down, we’re going down together!”
“Woman, will you not heed me for once in your life?!” was the captain’s angry retort, tugging at a nearby rope with a furious jerk. However, the look on her face made it clear she wasn’t going to give in, not on this one. Even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, he had to admit she had a point. If they were overwhelmed, at least he knew she could swim. Better to take her chances there and eventually drown than whatever these vagabonds would surely put her through if they had her cornered.
“I won’t,” was all Dora said in response, fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of her knife. Growling, Demetrius didn’t fight her any further, instead focusing his efforts on hastening his vessel along in the vain hope that they could evade the pirates close behind.
It was hardly another few minutes before the other ship was alongside theirs, a cold knot of dread and horror forming in the pit of Dora’s stomach. She’d known they couldn’t run when she saw how fast the rival vessel was coming up on them, but she’d dared to hope for a miracle, as useless as it was. What else could she do when Death came hurtling at them on crimson sails?
Permission to come aboard!
Nearly every eye present on Poseidon’s Pride was drawn toward that voice that threatened them with a laugh, Dora’s included. Clenching her dagger even tighter, she stared down the man with blatant hatred on her high-boned face while Demetrius stepped forward to block her from the pirate’s view.
“Permission not granted,” was his dry response, his hand resting on the hilt of his own blade. He barely knew how to use it, but their attackers didn’t need to know that. Perhaps there was still the chance they could be reasoned with? Eyeing the weaponry held by various gnarled and determined hands, he somehow doubted that was the case.
Bowstrings were held taut by the pitiful handful of archers positioned around the ship, Arktos holding up his hand to keep their fire at bay. If they loosed the first shot, this would dissolve into violence quickly. Better to defend than attack when they were this outnumbered. They would have to be strategic if they had any hope of coming out of this with their lives.
“We’re sailing here by the King’s own orders,” Demetrius informed their antagonists, which was a blatant lie, albeit a fairly convincing one. “I’d kindly suggest you head in the other direction, lest you dare to face His Majesty’s wrath.”
Callidora doubted the pirates would care much for such empty threats, but she held her breath as she waited for the other man’s response. If he reacted the way she suspected he would… well… it looked like she’d better prepare for a long swim.
The activity aboard Poseidon’s Pride was practically a mirror image of the Aceton, sailors scurrying to their posts to prepare the ship for the chase. Casks of water-rotting food were tossed overboard, along with anything else deemed unnecessary in that moment—anything and everything that wasn’t meant to be sold, including a few things that were. Demetrius strode the deck shouting orders back and forth while Arktos hurried to ensure those orders were carried out. Callidora merely stood at the helm with her hands clenched painfully tight on the railing. Unfortunately, there was little else she could do.
Rowers set forth with a mighty heave, the drumbeats below a dramatic backdrop to the scene unfolding around them. She could feel the significant burst in speed as the ship leapt forward into the waves, but keeping her eyes trained on the other ship that was quickly gaining, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough. There was no longer any doubt that they were being followed, their pursuers close enough that she could hear the yell of the sailors and their own percussive counterrhythm that caressed her ears with a sinister promise.
They weren’t coming out of this unscathed.
“Callidora, get down to the cabin!” Demetrius bellowed the order from behind her, adjusting the tiller so that the sail would better catch the wind. His words were nearly whipped away in the salt spray, but they were just loud enough to turn her head in his direction.
Stubbornly clenching her jaw, Dora shook her head, pulling her dagger from beneath her chiton. “I’m not leaving you,” she insisted in her own echoing shout, brandishing her weapon at her husband to punctuate her point. “If they swarm the ship, I stand a better chance if I can jump overboard than if I’m trapped beneath the deck. You’ll not be rid of me, Demetrius. If we’re going down, we’re going down together!”
“Woman, will you not heed me for once in your life?!” was the captain’s angry retort, tugging at a nearby rope with a furious jerk. However, the look on her face made it clear she wasn’t going to give in, not on this one. Even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, he had to admit she had a point. If they were overwhelmed, at least he knew she could swim. Better to take her chances there and eventually drown than whatever these vagabonds would surely put her through if they had her cornered.
“I won’t,” was all Dora said in response, fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of her knife. Growling, Demetrius didn’t fight her any further, instead focusing his efforts on hastening his vessel along in the vain hope that they could evade the pirates close behind.
It was hardly another few minutes before the other ship was alongside theirs, a cold knot of dread and horror forming in the pit of Dora’s stomach. She’d known they couldn’t run when she saw how fast the rival vessel was coming up on them, but she’d dared to hope for a miracle, as useless as it was. What else could she do when Death came hurtling at them on crimson sails?
Permission to come aboard!
Nearly every eye present on Poseidon’s Pride was drawn toward that voice that threatened them with a laugh, Dora’s included. Clenching her dagger even tighter, she stared down the man with blatant hatred on her high-boned face while Demetrius stepped forward to block her from the pirate’s view.
“Permission not granted,” was his dry response, his hand resting on the hilt of his own blade. He barely knew how to use it, but their attackers didn’t need to know that. Perhaps there was still the chance they could be reasoned with? Eyeing the weaponry held by various gnarled and determined hands, he somehow doubted that was the case.
Bowstrings were held taut by the pitiful handful of archers positioned around the ship, Arktos holding up his hand to keep their fire at bay. If they loosed the first shot, this would dissolve into violence quickly. Better to defend than attack when they were this outnumbered. They would have to be strategic if they had any hope of coming out of this with their lives.
“We’re sailing here by the King’s own orders,” Demetrius informed their antagonists, which was a blatant lie, albeit a fairly convincing one. “I’d kindly suggest you head in the other direction, lest you dare to face His Majesty’s wrath.”
Callidora doubted the pirates would care much for such empty threats, but she held her breath as she waited for the other man’s response. If he reacted the way she suspected he would… well… it looked like she’d better prepare for a long swim.
Lukos scanned the deck of the opposing ship, noting how many people they had aboard, eyes landing on their archers, the panic of the crew. He liked what he saw. The way the archers stood, dreading having to use their weapons, rather than taut and waiting, it bespoke of men who could shoot, but were perhaps not so experienced in taking human life as they ought to be. His guess that this ship was outfitted with men who had skill and little practice using it. It was one thing to stand in a courtyard and target practice, and a completely different thing to have to aim at moving people. Not only would the archers have to contend with their quarry running and likely being too close to them within moments to make the bows useful, but the wind misdirecting their arrows, as well as the ground beneath their own feet being less than stable. It was a lot to ask of them and Lukos knew it. He had no archers aboard his own ship for that very reason. The profession wasn’t useful, most of the time, on the ocean.
Though the captain of the other vessel stepped in front of Callidora, Lukos had seen her. He’d also seen her determined stance and the dagger in her fist. The protection of the man in front of her didn’t speak husband to him, but their marital relation mattered little. She was there and it was her that he planned to use to this man’s detriment. How kind of him to have given up a weakness so quickly.
“Sailing by the king’s orders?” Lukos echoed, putting a hand on his hip and nodding. He pressed his lips together and exaggerating his contemplation by placing one hand over his mouth. “Well,” he took the hand against his lips away and gestured around. “What do you think, boys? The king has sent this good man into our waters. Surely that right there should send us wailing to our mommies.”
There was a ripple of laughter echoing this statement and Lukos turned back toward Demetrius as he warned them to head elsewhere. Lukos bowed, still balanced on the railing, grinning when he came up. “Thank you for the caution, milord, but I can’t say that I know which king you’re speaking of. If you mean the king of Colchis, well he’s up in the north fighting, so I doubt he’s sent you. If you’re speaking of the king in Athenia, I think you’ll find that he’s likely too busy reading. And if you come from Taengea, I’d be shocked if the king was sober enough to send a good man such as yourself into pirate infested waters.”
With his free hand, he gestured behind him and a couple of his men stepped toward the railings, hooks at the ready.
“So, with all due respect, I think you’re lying out of your ass. And even if you’re not, I am the only king that matters out here. Either let me come aboard peacefully and I will promise no violence to a single person on your ship, or I’ll take your vessel anyway and I’ll see what fun I can have with that pretty girl you’ve got back there. And I’ll make you watch.”
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Lukos scanned the deck of the opposing ship, noting how many people they had aboard, eyes landing on their archers, the panic of the crew. He liked what he saw. The way the archers stood, dreading having to use their weapons, rather than taut and waiting, it bespoke of men who could shoot, but were perhaps not so experienced in taking human life as they ought to be. His guess that this ship was outfitted with men who had skill and little practice using it. It was one thing to stand in a courtyard and target practice, and a completely different thing to have to aim at moving people. Not only would the archers have to contend with their quarry running and likely being too close to them within moments to make the bows useful, but the wind misdirecting their arrows, as well as the ground beneath their own feet being less than stable. It was a lot to ask of them and Lukos knew it. He had no archers aboard his own ship for that very reason. The profession wasn’t useful, most of the time, on the ocean.
Though the captain of the other vessel stepped in front of Callidora, Lukos had seen her. He’d also seen her determined stance and the dagger in her fist. The protection of the man in front of her didn’t speak husband to him, but their marital relation mattered little. She was there and it was her that he planned to use to this man’s detriment. How kind of him to have given up a weakness so quickly.
“Sailing by the king’s orders?” Lukos echoed, putting a hand on his hip and nodding. He pressed his lips together and exaggerating his contemplation by placing one hand over his mouth. “Well,” he took the hand against his lips away and gestured around. “What do you think, boys? The king has sent this good man into our waters. Surely that right there should send us wailing to our mommies.”
There was a ripple of laughter echoing this statement and Lukos turned back toward Demetrius as he warned them to head elsewhere. Lukos bowed, still balanced on the railing, grinning when he came up. “Thank you for the caution, milord, but I can’t say that I know which king you’re speaking of. If you mean the king of Colchis, well he’s up in the north fighting, so I doubt he’s sent you. If you’re speaking of the king in Athenia, I think you’ll find that he’s likely too busy reading. And if you come from Taengea, I’d be shocked if the king was sober enough to send a good man such as yourself into pirate infested waters.”
With his free hand, he gestured behind him and a couple of his men stepped toward the railings, hooks at the ready.
“So, with all due respect, I think you’re lying out of your ass. And even if you’re not, I am the only king that matters out here. Either let me come aboard peacefully and I will promise no violence to a single person on your ship, or I’ll take your vessel anyway and I’ll see what fun I can have with that pretty girl you’ve got back there. And I’ll make you watch.”
Lukos scanned the deck of the opposing ship, noting how many people they had aboard, eyes landing on their archers, the panic of the crew. He liked what he saw. The way the archers stood, dreading having to use their weapons, rather than taut and waiting, it bespoke of men who could shoot, but were perhaps not so experienced in taking human life as they ought to be. His guess that this ship was outfitted with men who had skill and little practice using it. It was one thing to stand in a courtyard and target practice, and a completely different thing to have to aim at moving people. Not only would the archers have to contend with their quarry running and likely being too close to them within moments to make the bows useful, but the wind misdirecting their arrows, as well as the ground beneath their own feet being less than stable. It was a lot to ask of them and Lukos knew it. He had no archers aboard his own ship for that very reason. The profession wasn’t useful, most of the time, on the ocean.
Though the captain of the other vessel stepped in front of Callidora, Lukos had seen her. He’d also seen her determined stance and the dagger in her fist. The protection of the man in front of her didn’t speak husband to him, but their marital relation mattered little. She was there and it was her that he planned to use to this man’s detriment. How kind of him to have given up a weakness so quickly.
“Sailing by the king’s orders?” Lukos echoed, putting a hand on his hip and nodding. He pressed his lips together and exaggerating his contemplation by placing one hand over his mouth. “Well,” he took the hand against his lips away and gestured around. “What do you think, boys? The king has sent this good man into our waters. Surely that right there should send us wailing to our mommies.”
There was a ripple of laughter echoing this statement and Lukos turned back toward Demetrius as he warned them to head elsewhere. Lukos bowed, still balanced on the railing, grinning when he came up. “Thank you for the caution, milord, but I can’t say that I know which king you’re speaking of. If you mean the king of Colchis, well he’s up in the north fighting, so I doubt he’s sent you. If you’re speaking of the king in Athenia, I think you’ll find that he’s likely too busy reading. And if you come from Taengea, I’d be shocked if the king was sober enough to send a good man such as yourself into pirate infested waters.”
With his free hand, he gestured behind him and a couple of his men stepped toward the railings, hooks at the ready.
“So, with all due respect, I think you’re lying out of your ass. And even if you’re not, I am the only king that matters out here. Either let me come aboard peacefully and I will promise no violence to a single person on your ship, or I’ll take your vessel anyway and I’ll see what fun I can have with that pretty girl you’ve got back there. And I’ll make you watch.”
Callidora’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger with each word the pirate spoke, the anger on her face radiating into the stiffness of her muscles and the tight set of her jaw. At this point, her fury was starting to outweigh her fear, and whether that boded well for her would remain to be seen. Actions taken in anger were often the most regrettable, but the proud woman would never let it be said she cowered in fear from any threat, even one so imminent as this. If she were to die, she would do it with her knife in hand and a curse on her lips.
“Touch me, and it will be the last thing you ever do,” the woman hissed at their quarry, her voice seething with ill-concealed hatred. Her life and virtue were not bartering tools to be used at some pirate’s whim. She’d be damned if he got close enough to her to make good on his threats; she’d slit her own throat before she let such a thing happen. Foolhardy, perhaps, but Dora was a fighter. She would never lay back and accept a fate she hadn’t seized for herself.
Demetrius, in contrast to his wife’s spitting rage, was sweating. This cretin had immediately called his bluff, and it would be a reach to try to make any other excuses for their presence that might result in the pirate’s crew just letting them go. He couldn’t simply hand over his ship without a fight; after all, what guarantee did he have that the man would keep his word and spare them if he did? Pirates were liars and thieves—he had no reason to trust that a word he said was the truth. But what chance did he have of winning the fight? His crew was loyal, but they were not battle-hardened. They’d dealt with a few ruffians along the way, but not an organized crew like this. He knew they would fight to the end if he asked it of them, but he was hesitant to sacrifice them without at least attempting to negotiate first.
“Surely it needn’t be all or nothing,” the captain finally said, clearing his throat and holding his hand up against any further words his wife might have spoken. “Perhaps we might come to an agreement? One where we all get something out of this, eh?”
Arktos looked over at Demetrius with a raised brow, hardly able to believe the words spilling out of his mouth. Did he really think he could just talk his way out of this? For such a shrewd man, he could sure be pretty damn stupid. “Y’can’t reason with men like him, Captain,” he pointed out, his own hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword with one wary eye plastered on Lukos. “There’s only one language these fuckers know, and that’s blood.”
Swinging down from his vantage point, Arktos joined Demetrius on the deck, boldly staring into the pirate’s face, though his words were still directed at his captain. “You want my advice? Let your arrows fly, and go down with honor. At least we’ll take a few of ‘em with us.”
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Callidora’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger with each word the pirate spoke, the anger on her face radiating into the stiffness of her muscles and the tight set of her jaw. At this point, her fury was starting to outweigh her fear, and whether that boded well for her would remain to be seen. Actions taken in anger were often the most regrettable, but the proud woman would never let it be said she cowered in fear from any threat, even one so imminent as this. If she were to die, she would do it with her knife in hand and a curse on her lips.
“Touch me, and it will be the last thing you ever do,” the woman hissed at their quarry, her voice seething with ill-concealed hatred. Her life and virtue were not bartering tools to be used at some pirate’s whim. She’d be damned if he got close enough to her to make good on his threats; she’d slit her own throat before she let such a thing happen. Foolhardy, perhaps, but Dora was a fighter. She would never lay back and accept a fate she hadn’t seized for herself.
Demetrius, in contrast to his wife’s spitting rage, was sweating. This cretin had immediately called his bluff, and it would be a reach to try to make any other excuses for their presence that might result in the pirate’s crew just letting them go. He couldn’t simply hand over his ship without a fight; after all, what guarantee did he have that the man would keep his word and spare them if he did? Pirates were liars and thieves—he had no reason to trust that a word he said was the truth. But what chance did he have of winning the fight? His crew was loyal, but they were not battle-hardened. They’d dealt with a few ruffians along the way, but not an organized crew like this. He knew they would fight to the end if he asked it of them, but he was hesitant to sacrifice them without at least attempting to negotiate first.
“Surely it needn’t be all or nothing,” the captain finally said, clearing his throat and holding his hand up against any further words his wife might have spoken. “Perhaps we might come to an agreement? One where we all get something out of this, eh?”
Arktos looked over at Demetrius with a raised brow, hardly able to believe the words spilling out of his mouth. Did he really think he could just talk his way out of this? For such a shrewd man, he could sure be pretty damn stupid. “Y’can’t reason with men like him, Captain,” he pointed out, his own hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword with one wary eye plastered on Lukos. “There’s only one language these fuckers know, and that’s blood.”
Swinging down from his vantage point, Arktos joined Demetrius on the deck, boldly staring into the pirate’s face, though his words were still directed at his captain. “You want my advice? Let your arrows fly, and go down with honor. At least we’ll take a few of ‘em with us.”
Callidora’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger with each word the pirate spoke, the anger on her face radiating into the stiffness of her muscles and the tight set of her jaw. At this point, her fury was starting to outweigh her fear, and whether that boded well for her would remain to be seen. Actions taken in anger were often the most regrettable, but the proud woman would never let it be said she cowered in fear from any threat, even one so imminent as this. If she were to die, she would do it with her knife in hand and a curse on her lips.
“Touch me, and it will be the last thing you ever do,” the woman hissed at their quarry, her voice seething with ill-concealed hatred. Her life and virtue were not bartering tools to be used at some pirate’s whim. She’d be damned if he got close enough to her to make good on his threats; she’d slit her own throat before she let such a thing happen. Foolhardy, perhaps, but Dora was a fighter. She would never lay back and accept a fate she hadn’t seized for herself.
Demetrius, in contrast to his wife’s spitting rage, was sweating. This cretin had immediately called his bluff, and it would be a reach to try to make any other excuses for their presence that might result in the pirate’s crew just letting them go. He couldn’t simply hand over his ship without a fight; after all, what guarantee did he have that the man would keep his word and spare them if he did? Pirates were liars and thieves—he had no reason to trust that a word he said was the truth. But what chance did he have of winning the fight? His crew was loyal, but they were not battle-hardened. They’d dealt with a few ruffians along the way, but not an organized crew like this. He knew they would fight to the end if he asked it of them, but he was hesitant to sacrifice them without at least attempting to negotiate first.
“Surely it needn’t be all or nothing,” the captain finally said, clearing his throat and holding his hand up against any further words his wife might have spoken. “Perhaps we might come to an agreement? One where we all get something out of this, eh?”
Arktos looked over at Demetrius with a raised brow, hardly able to believe the words spilling out of his mouth. Did he really think he could just talk his way out of this? For such a shrewd man, he could sure be pretty damn stupid. “Y’can’t reason with men like him, Captain,” he pointed out, his own hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword with one wary eye plastered on Lukos. “There’s only one language these fuckers know, and that’s blood.”
Swinging down from his vantage point, Arktos joined Demetrius on the deck, boldly staring into the pirate’s face, though his words were still directed at his captain. “You want my advice? Let your arrows fly, and go down with honor. At least we’ll take a few of ‘em with us.”
“Touch me, and it will be the last thing you ever do,” the woman snarled, looking far more rabid than the man shielding her. Lukos laughed at her.
“I’m sure,” he agreed between boughts of laughter. “I’m sure.” Her anger would only make it more fun and that much more satisfying when she finally cried. Which she would. He’d make sure of it. She’d be the first in a long, long time, of course, but what was done once upon a time could be done again and besides, she looked like she needed taught a lesson anyhow. Too mouthy.
“Surely it needn’t be all or nothing,” her man tried as Lukos regained control of his laughter. In the first and only sign of minor respect for the man, he pressed his lips together and managed to be quiet in order to listen. “Perhaps we might come to an agreement? One where we all get something out of this, eh?”
Lukos was intensely interested in whatever half cooked up plan the captain was going to come up with, because as far as he could see, there was nothing the man would say that would sway his decision. However, he was not an unreasonable person and he really and truly did like to hear the bargaining people sometimes tried. Made for good stories later. However, that was interrupted by the largest and one of the ugliest men Lukos had ever seen. Arktos was like a bear walking on its hindlegs and Lukos’s mouth opened the tiniest fraction.
All he saw while Arktos groused was money signs floating around the man. Either he could sell him as a gladiator, or use him on his crew. Forget the girl. Lukos had his heart set on someone far more useful. “Oy!” he shouted at Arktos. “What are they paying you, mate?” He leaned out, far over the railing, holding the ropes and not paying a single bit of attention anymore to Calliadora or her husband.
Whatever Arktos’s answer was, Lukos offered double. “You’re bored, aren’t you?” he asked with half a grin. “ You’re a waste on that ship. Come with me and you can stop with those horrendously fun supply runs you’re doing.” Lukos didn’t figure that offering employment at this moment was necessarily a bad thing. He didn’t plan on killing everyone on Calliadora’s ship but he did plan on lifting all of its cargo and taking Arktos with him, willingly or not. Though, he reflected, he’d much rather have the man be willing. It was going to be a pain if he had to force him.
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“Touch me, and it will be the last thing you ever do,” the woman snarled, looking far more rabid than the man shielding her. Lukos laughed at her.
“I’m sure,” he agreed between boughts of laughter. “I’m sure.” Her anger would only make it more fun and that much more satisfying when she finally cried. Which she would. He’d make sure of it. She’d be the first in a long, long time, of course, but what was done once upon a time could be done again and besides, she looked like she needed taught a lesson anyhow. Too mouthy.
“Surely it needn’t be all or nothing,” her man tried as Lukos regained control of his laughter. In the first and only sign of minor respect for the man, he pressed his lips together and managed to be quiet in order to listen. “Perhaps we might come to an agreement? One where we all get something out of this, eh?”
Lukos was intensely interested in whatever half cooked up plan the captain was going to come up with, because as far as he could see, there was nothing the man would say that would sway his decision. However, he was not an unreasonable person and he really and truly did like to hear the bargaining people sometimes tried. Made for good stories later. However, that was interrupted by the largest and one of the ugliest men Lukos had ever seen. Arktos was like a bear walking on its hindlegs and Lukos’s mouth opened the tiniest fraction.
All he saw while Arktos groused was money signs floating around the man. Either he could sell him as a gladiator, or use him on his crew. Forget the girl. Lukos had his heart set on someone far more useful. “Oy!” he shouted at Arktos. “What are they paying you, mate?” He leaned out, far over the railing, holding the ropes and not paying a single bit of attention anymore to Calliadora or her husband.
Whatever Arktos’s answer was, Lukos offered double. “You’re bored, aren’t you?” he asked with half a grin. “ You’re a waste on that ship. Come with me and you can stop with those horrendously fun supply runs you’re doing.” Lukos didn’t figure that offering employment at this moment was necessarily a bad thing. He didn’t plan on killing everyone on Calliadora’s ship but he did plan on lifting all of its cargo and taking Arktos with him, willingly or not. Though, he reflected, he’d much rather have the man be willing. It was going to be a pain if he had to force him.
“Touch me, and it will be the last thing you ever do,” the woman snarled, looking far more rabid than the man shielding her. Lukos laughed at her.
“I’m sure,” he agreed between boughts of laughter. “I’m sure.” Her anger would only make it more fun and that much more satisfying when she finally cried. Which she would. He’d make sure of it. She’d be the first in a long, long time, of course, but what was done once upon a time could be done again and besides, she looked like she needed taught a lesson anyhow. Too mouthy.
“Surely it needn’t be all or nothing,” her man tried as Lukos regained control of his laughter. In the first and only sign of minor respect for the man, he pressed his lips together and managed to be quiet in order to listen. “Perhaps we might come to an agreement? One where we all get something out of this, eh?”
Lukos was intensely interested in whatever half cooked up plan the captain was going to come up with, because as far as he could see, there was nothing the man would say that would sway his decision. However, he was not an unreasonable person and he really and truly did like to hear the bargaining people sometimes tried. Made for good stories later. However, that was interrupted by the largest and one of the ugliest men Lukos had ever seen. Arktos was like a bear walking on its hindlegs and Lukos’s mouth opened the tiniest fraction.
All he saw while Arktos groused was money signs floating around the man. Either he could sell him as a gladiator, or use him on his crew. Forget the girl. Lukos had his heart set on someone far more useful. “Oy!” he shouted at Arktos. “What are they paying you, mate?” He leaned out, far over the railing, holding the ropes and not paying a single bit of attention anymore to Calliadora or her husband.
Whatever Arktos’s answer was, Lukos offered double. “You’re bored, aren’t you?” he asked with half a grin. “ You’re a waste on that ship. Come with me and you can stop with those horrendously fun supply runs you’re doing.” Lukos didn’t figure that offering employment at this moment was necessarily a bad thing. He didn’t plan on killing everyone on Calliadora’s ship but he did plan on lifting all of its cargo and taking Arktos with him, willingly or not. Though, he reflected, he’d much rather have the man be willing. It was going to be a pain if he had to force him.
Before Demetrius could answer with an undeveloped counteroffer, Lukos’s attention was on someone else, eyeing up his first mate with a consideration the captain did not like. He listened in blatant disbelief as the pirate offered Arktos a job, his mouth dropping open when his gaze shifted to the large man’s face—a face which held an expression as if he was actually considering it. Was this really happening? Or was this just some vivid dream?
Arktos rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, looking between Lukos and Demetrius with a shrewd eye. He got paid a decent amount by the Captain, but he could always take more. After all, the pirate was right; he was bored near to death with the missions this lot took on. He was a fighter, not a merchant, and his particular talents often went to waste. “Well, I guess that all depends,” he finally said, trying to ignore the appalled looks from both Demetrius and his wife. “What exactly is it you’re offerin’?”
The look on Callidora’s face was nearly as shocked as her husband’s, especially with the response Arktos gave. “You can’t be serious!” she and Demetrius chorused nearly in unison, her husband going red in the face. The captain went on, “You would honestly consider joining this ruffian scum? After everything we’ve done for you, after all you’ve been through with us… Gods, I ought to throw you to Poseidon’s mercy myself!”
“Doin’ a great job of convincin’ me to stay, Captain,” Arktos replied, his voice dry as tinder.
Dora, on the other hand, had a more level head than her husband, and she saw a possibility where Demetrius only saw anger. Abandoning her post on the upper deck of the ship, she rushed down to join the trio before the merchant and Arktos erupted into blows. “Wait, both of you,” she said as she positioned herself between them with a cautioning look in each direction. “Maybe there’s something to this.”
The large bear to her right looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. It would never cease to amaze him how much Demetrius let his wife get away with, but this? Her coming down here in the middle of it all? She was like to get herself killed. However, he didn’t speak. As foolish as this was, he also knew she was a smart girl. He doubted she’d interrupt without a reason.
Instead of addressing either one of them further, she looked at Lukos instead, drawing herself up so that she might appear taller than her rather petite stature. Dora was small, but she was fierce despite it, and she would never let this cretin see her fear. “If we hand him over to you without a fight, will you leave? Perhaps we might even sweeten the deal a little for you?” She shrugged. “I know where the drachmae are, just like I know how much we can spare. Like my husband was saying before you so rudely interrupted,” Here she cut him a look not unlike a scolding mother before she went on, “There’s no reason we can’t negotiate, right? We’re all reasonable adults here, aren’t we?”
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Before Demetrius could answer with an undeveloped counteroffer, Lukos’s attention was on someone else, eyeing up his first mate with a consideration the captain did not like. He listened in blatant disbelief as the pirate offered Arktos a job, his mouth dropping open when his gaze shifted to the large man’s face—a face which held an expression as if he was actually considering it. Was this really happening? Or was this just some vivid dream?
Arktos rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, looking between Lukos and Demetrius with a shrewd eye. He got paid a decent amount by the Captain, but he could always take more. After all, the pirate was right; he was bored near to death with the missions this lot took on. He was a fighter, not a merchant, and his particular talents often went to waste. “Well, I guess that all depends,” he finally said, trying to ignore the appalled looks from both Demetrius and his wife. “What exactly is it you’re offerin’?”
The look on Callidora’s face was nearly as shocked as her husband’s, especially with the response Arktos gave. “You can’t be serious!” she and Demetrius chorused nearly in unison, her husband going red in the face. The captain went on, “You would honestly consider joining this ruffian scum? After everything we’ve done for you, after all you’ve been through with us… Gods, I ought to throw you to Poseidon’s mercy myself!”
“Doin’ a great job of convincin’ me to stay, Captain,” Arktos replied, his voice dry as tinder.
Dora, on the other hand, had a more level head than her husband, and she saw a possibility where Demetrius only saw anger. Abandoning her post on the upper deck of the ship, she rushed down to join the trio before the merchant and Arktos erupted into blows. “Wait, both of you,” she said as she positioned herself between them with a cautioning look in each direction. “Maybe there’s something to this.”
The large bear to her right looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. It would never cease to amaze him how much Demetrius let his wife get away with, but this? Her coming down here in the middle of it all? She was like to get herself killed. However, he didn’t speak. As foolish as this was, he also knew she was a smart girl. He doubted she’d interrupt without a reason.
Instead of addressing either one of them further, she looked at Lukos instead, drawing herself up so that she might appear taller than her rather petite stature. Dora was small, but she was fierce despite it, and she would never let this cretin see her fear. “If we hand him over to you without a fight, will you leave? Perhaps we might even sweeten the deal a little for you?” She shrugged. “I know where the drachmae are, just like I know how much we can spare. Like my husband was saying before you so rudely interrupted,” Here she cut him a look not unlike a scolding mother before she went on, “There’s no reason we can’t negotiate, right? We’re all reasonable adults here, aren’t we?”
Before Demetrius could answer with an undeveloped counteroffer, Lukos’s attention was on someone else, eyeing up his first mate with a consideration the captain did not like. He listened in blatant disbelief as the pirate offered Arktos a job, his mouth dropping open when his gaze shifted to the large man’s face—a face which held an expression as if he was actually considering it. Was this really happening? Or was this just some vivid dream?
Arktos rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, looking between Lukos and Demetrius with a shrewd eye. He got paid a decent amount by the Captain, but he could always take more. After all, the pirate was right; he was bored near to death with the missions this lot took on. He was a fighter, not a merchant, and his particular talents often went to waste. “Well, I guess that all depends,” he finally said, trying to ignore the appalled looks from both Demetrius and his wife. “What exactly is it you’re offerin’?”
The look on Callidora’s face was nearly as shocked as her husband’s, especially with the response Arktos gave. “You can’t be serious!” she and Demetrius chorused nearly in unison, her husband going red in the face. The captain went on, “You would honestly consider joining this ruffian scum? After everything we’ve done for you, after all you’ve been through with us… Gods, I ought to throw you to Poseidon’s mercy myself!”
“Doin’ a great job of convincin’ me to stay, Captain,” Arktos replied, his voice dry as tinder.
Dora, on the other hand, had a more level head than her husband, and she saw a possibility where Demetrius only saw anger. Abandoning her post on the upper deck of the ship, she rushed down to join the trio before the merchant and Arktos erupted into blows. “Wait, both of you,” she said as she positioned herself between them with a cautioning look in each direction. “Maybe there’s something to this.”
The large bear to her right looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. It would never cease to amaze him how much Demetrius let his wife get away with, but this? Her coming down here in the middle of it all? She was like to get herself killed. However, he didn’t speak. As foolish as this was, he also knew she was a smart girl. He doubted she’d interrupt without a reason.
Instead of addressing either one of them further, she looked at Lukos instead, drawing herself up so that she might appear taller than her rather petite stature. Dora was small, but she was fierce despite it, and she would never let this cretin see her fear. “If we hand him over to you without a fight, will you leave? Perhaps we might even sweeten the deal a little for you?” She shrugged. “I know where the drachmae are, just like I know how much we can spare. Like my husband was saying before you so rudely interrupted,” Here she cut him a look not unlike a scolding mother before she went on, “There’s no reason we can’t negotiate, right? We’re all reasonable adults here, aren’t we?”
Lukos grinned as the big man’s expression took on one of calculation. He was thinking about it. Never having seen this man in his life, Lukos loved the look of him. Huge, brawny, scruffy. One might even call him ugly. And the best part, the very best part, was that he didn’t look too clever. Smart enough not to get himself killed, but not clever enough to ever be a leader on his own. The narrow set to the man’s eyes, his blunt, obviously commonborn features. All of these were a dream come true, unless Lukos was very much mistaken, which he doubted. The pirate’s living revolved around people. He studied them and had come across a vast array of different kinds, but they always fell into patterns. This beastly bear of a man was fitting into exactly the kind of category Lukos found most useful. Smart enough to realize he could have more, dumb enough not to go looking for it until it dropped in his lap.
Lukos was not that way. Lukos was a shark; sleek, tireless, hungry. Always searching, always hunting for more and never satisfied when he found it. Arktos seemed to be a bear. Ambling, hungry, foraging, content not to hunt and merely to feed off what he found. That was fine. Lukos could deal with that - preferred to deal with that. It meant he controlled what came into the bear’s paws.
Just when things were going so well, the captain of the other ship, red faced and spitting angry, turned on the bear man. Lukos lifted his brows, half grinning. “Having a domestic?” he called, but either they didn’t hear him over the fight the two of them were having, or, even more likely, didn’t care. His attention was drawn away from the argument as the woman on the other ship darted down to break up the fight. Lover or wife, Lukos decided. Definitely one of the two. Twisting his mouth, he covered it with one hand, closing an eye and focusing hard to hear what was being said as the voices carried over the water.
Yeah. Wife. Definitely wife. Only wives got away with that shit. The woman turned and Lukos dropped his hand from his mouth and tilting his head to indicate how amazingly interested he was in what she had to say, and he was not disappointed. A grin light his features the more she spoke, until he laughed a little, not quite believing she was serious. This was adorable.
“If we hand him over to you without a fight, will you leave? Perhaps we might even sweeten the deal a little for you?”
“I’d love to hear it, princess,” he encouraged, gesturing with his hand by rolling his wrist at her for her to continue.
“I know where the drachmae are, just like I know how much we can spare. Like my husband was saying before you so rudely interrupted. There’s no reason we can’t negotiate, right? We’re all reasonable adults here, aren’t we?”
Lukos’s smile morphed into one of genuine delight. He glanced at Arktos and gestured to to Dora. “She’s why you stay, isn’t she? So cute.” Then, the endearment wore off and his gaze narrowed into a shrewd, calculating look. Not unlike a shark’s when it sensed blood. “Listen, love, people negotiate when both sides have something to lose.” Flinging his arm out wide, he shrugged. “You’re already going to show me where the Drachmae are. All of them. And then I’m taking your cargo. And he’s coming with me. But because I’m sweet, I won’t kill anybody and I’ll let you stay floating if you don’t make my life stressful. How’s that for a deal?”
He glanced up at the sky, then pointed toward the sun. “Or, I can come around on your other side and ram you. The ship will sink and it’ll put a little bit of a strain on my timetable. And I’ll still take all of it. Which one’s it going to be, gorgeous?” Her husband might be titled Captain, but he had a feeling he was now addressing the real leader.
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Lukos grinned as the big man’s expression took on one of calculation. He was thinking about it. Never having seen this man in his life, Lukos loved the look of him. Huge, brawny, scruffy. One might even call him ugly. And the best part, the very best part, was that he didn’t look too clever. Smart enough not to get himself killed, but not clever enough to ever be a leader on his own. The narrow set to the man’s eyes, his blunt, obviously commonborn features. All of these were a dream come true, unless Lukos was very much mistaken, which he doubted. The pirate’s living revolved around people. He studied them and had come across a vast array of different kinds, but they always fell into patterns. This beastly bear of a man was fitting into exactly the kind of category Lukos found most useful. Smart enough to realize he could have more, dumb enough not to go looking for it until it dropped in his lap.
Lukos was not that way. Lukos was a shark; sleek, tireless, hungry. Always searching, always hunting for more and never satisfied when he found it. Arktos seemed to be a bear. Ambling, hungry, foraging, content not to hunt and merely to feed off what he found. That was fine. Lukos could deal with that - preferred to deal with that. It meant he controlled what came into the bear’s paws.
Just when things were going so well, the captain of the other ship, red faced and spitting angry, turned on the bear man. Lukos lifted his brows, half grinning. “Having a domestic?” he called, but either they didn’t hear him over the fight the two of them were having, or, even more likely, didn’t care. His attention was drawn away from the argument as the woman on the other ship darted down to break up the fight. Lover or wife, Lukos decided. Definitely one of the two. Twisting his mouth, he covered it with one hand, closing an eye and focusing hard to hear what was being said as the voices carried over the water.
Yeah. Wife. Definitely wife. Only wives got away with that shit. The woman turned and Lukos dropped his hand from his mouth and tilting his head to indicate how amazingly interested he was in what she had to say, and he was not disappointed. A grin light his features the more she spoke, until he laughed a little, not quite believing she was serious. This was adorable.
“If we hand him over to you without a fight, will you leave? Perhaps we might even sweeten the deal a little for you?”
“I’d love to hear it, princess,” he encouraged, gesturing with his hand by rolling his wrist at her for her to continue.
“I know where the drachmae are, just like I know how much we can spare. Like my husband was saying before you so rudely interrupted. There’s no reason we can’t negotiate, right? We’re all reasonable adults here, aren’t we?”
Lukos’s smile morphed into one of genuine delight. He glanced at Arktos and gestured to to Dora. “She’s why you stay, isn’t she? So cute.” Then, the endearment wore off and his gaze narrowed into a shrewd, calculating look. Not unlike a shark’s when it sensed blood. “Listen, love, people negotiate when both sides have something to lose.” Flinging his arm out wide, he shrugged. “You’re already going to show me where the Drachmae are. All of them. And then I’m taking your cargo. And he’s coming with me. But because I’m sweet, I won’t kill anybody and I’ll let you stay floating if you don’t make my life stressful. How’s that for a deal?”
He glanced up at the sky, then pointed toward the sun. “Or, I can come around on your other side and ram you. The ship will sink and it’ll put a little bit of a strain on my timetable. And I’ll still take all of it. Which one’s it going to be, gorgeous?” Her husband might be titled Captain, but he had a feeling he was now addressing the real leader.
Lukos grinned as the big man’s expression took on one of calculation. He was thinking about it. Never having seen this man in his life, Lukos loved the look of him. Huge, brawny, scruffy. One might even call him ugly. And the best part, the very best part, was that he didn’t look too clever. Smart enough not to get himself killed, but not clever enough to ever be a leader on his own. The narrow set to the man’s eyes, his blunt, obviously commonborn features. All of these were a dream come true, unless Lukos was very much mistaken, which he doubted. The pirate’s living revolved around people. He studied them and had come across a vast array of different kinds, but they always fell into patterns. This beastly bear of a man was fitting into exactly the kind of category Lukos found most useful. Smart enough to realize he could have more, dumb enough not to go looking for it until it dropped in his lap.
Lukos was not that way. Lukos was a shark; sleek, tireless, hungry. Always searching, always hunting for more and never satisfied when he found it. Arktos seemed to be a bear. Ambling, hungry, foraging, content not to hunt and merely to feed off what he found. That was fine. Lukos could deal with that - preferred to deal with that. It meant he controlled what came into the bear’s paws.
Just when things were going so well, the captain of the other ship, red faced and spitting angry, turned on the bear man. Lukos lifted his brows, half grinning. “Having a domestic?” he called, but either they didn’t hear him over the fight the two of them were having, or, even more likely, didn’t care. His attention was drawn away from the argument as the woman on the other ship darted down to break up the fight. Lover or wife, Lukos decided. Definitely one of the two. Twisting his mouth, he covered it with one hand, closing an eye and focusing hard to hear what was being said as the voices carried over the water.
Yeah. Wife. Definitely wife. Only wives got away with that shit. The woman turned and Lukos dropped his hand from his mouth and tilting his head to indicate how amazingly interested he was in what she had to say, and he was not disappointed. A grin light his features the more she spoke, until he laughed a little, not quite believing she was serious. This was adorable.
“If we hand him over to you without a fight, will you leave? Perhaps we might even sweeten the deal a little for you?”
“I’d love to hear it, princess,” he encouraged, gesturing with his hand by rolling his wrist at her for her to continue.
“I know where the drachmae are, just like I know how much we can spare. Like my husband was saying before you so rudely interrupted. There’s no reason we can’t negotiate, right? We’re all reasonable adults here, aren’t we?”
Lukos’s smile morphed into one of genuine delight. He glanced at Arktos and gestured to to Dora. “She’s why you stay, isn’t she? So cute.” Then, the endearment wore off and his gaze narrowed into a shrewd, calculating look. Not unlike a shark’s when it sensed blood. “Listen, love, people negotiate when both sides have something to lose.” Flinging his arm out wide, he shrugged. “You’re already going to show me where the Drachmae are. All of them. And then I’m taking your cargo. And he’s coming with me. But because I’m sweet, I won’t kill anybody and I’ll let you stay floating if you don’t make my life stressful. How’s that for a deal?”
He glanced up at the sky, then pointed toward the sun. “Or, I can come around on your other side and ram you. The ship will sink and it’ll put a little bit of a strain on my timetable. And I’ll still take all of it. Which one’s it going to be, gorgeous?” Her husband might be titled Captain, but he had a feeling he was now addressing the real leader.
The proud woman did not appreciate being spoken of as if she was nothing more than a silly little girl. Callidora’s jaw was clenched to the point of pain, glancing between Arktos and Lukos with a look that promised blood. For what was supposed to be such a simple venture, all of this was turning out to be much more complicated than she’d ever imagined.
“Fuck you,” was her extremely intelligent and visceral response, her voice more growl than words. Did any of them really believe for one second that he was just going to come onboard, steal all their cargo, and not doing anything to harm them? Dora was smarter than that, whether this sack of shit wanted to believe it or not. And she wasn’t about to just give it all away.
“And you, too,” she snarled at Arktos, who was looking at her with an amusement akin to that in the pirate’s face. He easily had a foot and a half on her, and in spite of all her rage, did not consider her any sort of threat. What did she really hope to accomplish?
“You really want to go with him?” she asked the bear of a man next to her with a curl of her lip. “Be my guest. Go. But know that if we all make it out today and we ever see you again… it’ll be your head.”
At that, Arktos’s laugh resounded, echoing across the water with the force of his mirth. “You going to cut it off yourself, Missus? I’d have you squashed beneath my boot before you even got the chance to try.”
Another snarl curled her lip, but before Dora could say anything, her husband was stepping in front of her with his sword drawn. “I’d suggest you keep your threats to yourself, traitor,” he told the man, his voice as cold as the gaze he leveled on his soon to be former first mate. “Another word, and I’ll be happy to relieve you of it right here, right now.”
Arktos took a menacing step forward, his hand on his own blade. “I’d like to see you try, Captain.”
Leveling his blade to block whatever attack the other man might have in mind, Demetrius stood his ground. “Get off my ship before I force you off.”
Bending forward in an exaggerated mockery of a bow, Arktos offered a chilly smile. “As you wish, Captain. Missus.” Whistling to catch Lukos’s attention, he lifted a brawny arm and waved his hand. “Oy! Looks like my decision’s been made for me. Care to lend a hand?”
The looks on Demetrius’s and his wife’s faces could have cut stone, the Captain barking out to his remaining men, “Archers, at the ready! Should this pirate try to board, turn him into a pincushion, lads!”
Dora’s jaw clenched again, fingers white-knuckled on the hilt of her dagger. Well. So much for a peaceful resolution.
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The proud woman did not appreciate being spoken of as if she was nothing more than a silly little girl. Callidora’s jaw was clenched to the point of pain, glancing between Arktos and Lukos with a look that promised blood. For what was supposed to be such a simple venture, all of this was turning out to be much more complicated than she’d ever imagined.
“Fuck you,” was her extremely intelligent and visceral response, her voice more growl than words. Did any of them really believe for one second that he was just going to come onboard, steal all their cargo, and not doing anything to harm them? Dora was smarter than that, whether this sack of shit wanted to believe it or not. And she wasn’t about to just give it all away.
“And you, too,” she snarled at Arktos, who was looking at her with an amusement akin to that in the pirate’s face. He easily had a foot and a half on her, and in spite of all her rage, did not consider her any sort of threat. What did she really hope to accomplish?
“You really want to go with him?” she asked the bear of a man next to her with a curl of her lip. “Be my guest. Go. But know that if we all make it out today and we ever see you again… it’ll be your head.”
At that, Arktos’s laugh resounded, echoing across the water with the force of his mirth. “You going to cut it off yourself, Missus? I’d have you squashed beneath my boot before you even got the chance to try.”
Another snarl curled her lip, but before Dora could say anything, her husband was stepping in front of her with his sword drawn. “I’d suggest you keep your threats to yourself, traitor,” he told the man, his voice as cold as the gaze he leveled on his soon to be former first mate. “Another word, and I’ll be happy to relieve you of it right here, right now.”
Arktos took a menacing step forward, his hand on his own blade. “I’d like to see you try, Captain.”
Leveling his blade to block whatever attack the other man might have in mind, Demetrius stood his ground. “Get off my ship before I force you off.”
Bending forward in an exaggerated mockery of a bow, Arktos offered a chilly smile. “As you wish, Captain. Missus.” Whistling to catch Lukos’s attention, he lifted a brawny arm and waved his hand. “Oy! Looks like my decision’s been made for me. Care to lend a hand?”
The looks on Demetrius’s and his wife’s faces could have cut stone, the Captain barking out to his remaining men, “Archers, at the ready! Should this pirate try to board, turn him into a pincushion, lads!”
Dora’s jaw clenched again, fingers white-knuckled on the hilt of her dagger. Well. So much for a peaceful resolution.
The proud woman did not appreciate being spoken of as if she was nothing more than a silly little girl. Callidora’s jaw was clenched to the point of pain, glancing between Arktos and Lukos with a look that promised blood. For what was supposed to be such a simple venture, all of this was turning out to be much more complicated than she’d ever imagined.
“Fuck you,” was her extremely intelligent and visceral response, her voice more growl than words. Did any of them really believe for one second that he was just going to come onboard, steal all their cargo, and not doing anything to harm them? Dora was smarter than that, whether this sack of shit wanted to believe it or not. And she wasn’t about to just give it all away.
“And you, too,” she snarled at Arktos, who was looking at her with an amusement akin to that in the pirate’s face. He easily had a foot and a half on her, and in spite of all her rage, did not consider her any sort of threat. What did she really hope to accomplish?
“You really want to go with him?” she asked the bear of a man next to her with a curl of her lip. “Be my guest. Go. But know that if we all make it out today and we ever see you again… it’ll be your head.”
At that, Arktos’s laugh resounded, echoing across the water with the force of his mirth. “You going to cut it off yourself, Missus? I’d have you squashed beneath my boot before you even got the chance to try.”
Another snarl curled her lip, but before Dora could say anything, her husband was stepping in front of her with his sword drawn. “I’d suggest you keep your threats to yourself, traitor,” he told the man, his voice as cold as the gaze he leveled on his soon to be former first mate. “Another word, and I’ll be happy to relieve you of it right here, right now.”
Arktos took a menacing step forward, his hand on his own blade. “I’d like to see you try, Captain.”
Leveling his blade to block whatever attack the other man might have in mind, Demetrius stood his ground. “Get off my ship before I force you off.”
Bending forward in an exaggerated mockery of a bow, Arktos offered a chilly smile. “As you wish, Captain. Missus.” Whistling to catch Lukos’s attention, he lifted a brawny arm and waved his hand. “Oy! Looks like my decision’s been made for me. Care to lend a hand?”
The looks on Demetrius’s and his wife’s faces could have cut stone, the Captain barking out to his remaining men, “Archers, at the ready! Should this pirate try to board, turn him into a pincushion, lads!”
Dora’s jaw clenched again, fingers white-knuckled on the hilt of her dagger. Well. So much for a peaceful resolution.
Her immediate, snarling ”Fuck you” earned her a laugh that echoed across the water. He put a hand on his stomach and sagged a little against the ropes, almost missing her little jibe at Arktos too, who didn’t seem too terribly bothered about it. After a few moments, while she spoke to Arktos, Lukos recovered himself and used his hold on the rope to pull backward, stepping off the railing and back onto the safety of the deck.
“Bring us closer,” he shouted. Activity picked up on the deck. No matter what that woman said, no matter what Arktos decided, he would be boarding that ship. The conclusion of this venture was so fixed in his mind that he was only half paying attention once he was addressed again. Glancing up, he squinted, trying to discern who it was that wanted what from him.
“Oy! Looks like my decision’s been made for me. Care to lend a hand?” Arktos called and Lukos shook his head. He cupped his hand against his mouth and shouted, “I’m coming to you!”
At the sound of Demetrius giving the orders for archers, Lukos rolled his eyes, gave Arktos a wave, and pointed with a sword toward the archers, raising his eyebrows as he did so and gave a meaningful look of Do you mind? Think you could possibly? If Arktos was on the other ship and willing to actually put in some work and prove himself, possibly shove people off, thereby saving Lukos’s crew in the process, Lukos was willing to place more trust in the giant.
Lukos didn’t hide from the archers but he didn’t aim to make himself or his men easy targets, either. The archers on the other ship would have to contend with movement from not only the sailors, but the gusts of wind, plus, he hoped, Arktos coming to attack them. He did not believe he would see death or lose many, if any, men today. Having lived his life out on the water since he was a child, Lukos did not fear the threats of merchants. He’d engaged in too many sea battles not to know the risks. Pulling the ship away from the other, he joined the man at the tiller, pointing out and making a gesture with his arm that suggested a circle. It didn’t matter to him if the other ship understood that he was preparing to ram them. There was nowhere for them to go. If they chose to try and flee, he’d pursue them to the ends of the earth for the sheer thrill. No, out on the water, there was no hiding. Not his actions, not theirs, and so all of his plans were undisguised.
Despite flying arrows, the pirate ship soon went out of range, only to make a wide arc and head straight for the side of the merchant vessel. Lukos wasn’t going to sink the other ship, but he’d make sure there was nothing they could do to prevent the collision. His heart hammered in his chest and he stood at the railing, his white knuckled grip and crouched stance the only thing that would keep him from flying forward once the bow of his ship hit the other ship’s stern. With luck, he’d take out their tiller too and make it really hard for them to sail into port. A nice middle finger to the figurative spit they’d thrown on his offer to be kind.
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Her immediate, snarling ”Fuck you” earned her a laugh that echoed across the water. He put a hand on his stomach and sagged a little against the ropes, almost missing her little jibe at Arktos too, who didn’t seem too terribly bothered about it. After a few moments, while she spoke to Arktos, Lukos recovered himself and used his hold on the rope to pull backward, stepping off the railing and back onto the safety of the deck.
“Bring us closer,” he shouted. Activity picked up on the deck. No matter what that woman said, no matter what Arktos decided, he would be boarding that ship. The conclusion of this venture was so fixed in his mind that he was only half paying attention once he was addressed again. Glancing up, he squinted, trying to discern who it was that wanted what from him.
“Oy! Looks like my decision’s been made for me. Care to lend a hand?” Arktos called and Lukos shook his head. He cupped his hand against his mouth and shouted, “I’m coming to you!”
At the sound of Demetrius giving the orders for archers, Lukos rolled his eyes, gave Arktos a wave, and pointed with a sword toward the archers, raising his eyebrows as he did so and gave a meaningful look of Do you mind? Think you could possibly? If Arktos was on the other ship and willing to actually put in some work and prove himself, possibly shove people off, thereby saving Lukos’s crew in the process, Lukos was willing to place more trust in the giant.
Lukos didn’t hide from the archers but he didn’t aim to make himself or his men easy targets, either. The archers on the other ship would have to contend with movement from not only the sailors, but the gusts of wind, plus, he hoped, Arktos coming to attack them. He did not believe he would see death or lose many, if any, men today. Having lived his life out on the water since he was a child, Lukos did not fear the threats of merchants. He’d engaged in too many sea battles not to know the risks. Pulling the ship away from the other, he joined the man at the tiller, pointing out and making a gesture with his arm that suggested a circle. It didn’t matter to him if the other ship understood that he was preparing to ram them. There was nowhere for them to go. If they chose to try and flee, he’d pursue them to the ends of the earth for the sheer thrill. No, out on the water, there was no hiding. Not his actions, not theirs, and so all of his plans were undisguised.
Despite flying arrows, the pirate ship soon went out of range, only to make a wide arc and head straight for the side of the merchant vessel. Lukos wasn’t going to sink the other ship, but he’d make sure there was nothing they could do to prevent the collision. His heart hammered in his chest and he stood at the railing, his white knuckled grip and crouched stance the only thing that would keep him from flying forward once the bow of his ship hit the other ship’s stern. With luck, he’d take out their tiller too and make it really hard for them to sail into port. A nice middle finger to the figurative spit they’d thrown on his offer to be kind.
Her immediate, snarling ”Fuck you” earned her a laugh that echoed across the water. He put a hand on his stomach and sagged a little against the ropes, almost missing her little jibe at Arktos too, who didn’t seem too terribly bothered about it. After a few moments, while she spoke to Arktos, Lukos recovered himself and used his hold on the rope to pull backward, stepping off the railing and back onto the safety of the deck.
“Bring us closer,” he shouted. Activity picked up on the deck. No matter what that woman said, no matter what Arktos decided, he would be boarding that ship. The conclusion of this venture was so fixed in his mind that he was only half paying attention once he was addressed again. Glancing up, he squinted, trying to discern who it was that wanted what from him.
“Oy! Looks like my decision’s been made for me. Care to lend a hand?” Arktos called and Lukos shook his head. He cupped his hand against his mouth and shouted, “I’m coming to you!”
At the sound of Demetrius giving the orders for archers, Lukos rolled his eyes, gave Arktos a wave, and pointed with a sword toward the archers, raising his eyebrows as he did so and gave a meaningful look of Do you mind? Think you could possibly? If Arktos was on the other ship and willing to actually put in some work and prove himself, possibly shove people off, thereby saving Lukos’s crew in the process, Lukos was willing to place more trust in the giant.
Lukos didn’t hide from the archers but he didn’t aim to make himself or his men easy targets, either. The archers on the other ship would have to contend with movement from not only the sailors, but the gusts of wind, plus, he hoped, Arktos coming to attack them. He did not believe he would see death or lose many, if any, men today. Having lived his life out on the water since he was a child, Lukos did not fear the threats of merchants. He’d engaged in too many sea battles not to know the risks. Pulling the ship away from the other, he joined the man at the tiller, pointing out and making a gesture with his arm that suggested a circle. It didn’t matter to him if the other ship understood that he was preparing to ram them. There was nowhere for them to go. If they chose to try and flee, he’d pursue them to the ends of the earth for the sheer thrill. No, out on the water, there was no hiding. Not his actions, not theirs, and so all of his plans were undisguised.
Despite flying arrows, the pirate ship soon went out of range, only to make a wide arc and head straight for the side of the merchant vessel. Lukos wasn’t going to sink the other ship, but he’d make sure there was nothing they could do to prevent the collision. His heart hammered in his chest and he stood at the railing, his white knuckled grip and crouched stance the only thing that would keep him from flying forward once the bow of his ship hit the other ship’s stern. With luck, he’d take out their tiller too and make it really hard for them to sail into port. A nice middle finger to the figurative spit they’d thrown on his offer to be kind.
To his credit, there was at least a pang of guilt across Arktos’s face when he pushed the first archer overboard, a man he had sailed next to all these months. That seemed to be the final knife in the back for Demetrius and his wife both, the former drawing his sword and striding toward the man while the latter screamed in shock. How could he so blithely destroy what they’d previously thought of as a comfortable camaraderie? Just went to show, who could ever really know someone?
The other archers started scattering, much to the captain’s dismay. Granted, they weren’t some highly trained military unit, but he thought his crew had more cohesiveness than this. At the first sign of danger, they ran instead of fighting? Gods, but what a mess this day had become. To have his first mate turn on him and the rest of his crew panic in the face of adversity… if they made it through this alive, Demetrius would be taking on some new sailors once they sailed into port.
If Lukos had his way, however, they’d be lucky if they even made it through this battle. A dawning horror was rising on Callidora’s face as she realized what the pirate meant to do, lining up his ship so he could ram theirs. With Arktos and Demetrius occupied with each other, Dora ran to the wheel of the ship and desperately turned it, hoping beyond hope that somehow they could avoid the worst of the collision. She started yelling to the rest of the crew to brace for impact, to move the ship so they wouldn’t bear the brunt, but no one was listening. They were all in an uproar.
Demetrius held his blade at his now former first mate’s throat, the much larger man looking down on him with a feral smile. “You gonna kill me, Captain?” he asked, parrying a sudden thrust with his own sword. “Didn’t think you had the balls.”
The merchant captain ignored the man’s taunt, feinting again, only for Arktos to block it. Neither of them seemed aware of the looming danger, though finally Dora’s shouts seemed to break through the tension. It was just long enough for Demetrius to break his focus and stare down the opposing ship as it came hurtling towards them.
The impact was resounding, the sounds of creaking and shattering wood rending the air. Dora held onto what she could, though she did lose both her footing and her grip—sprawling across the deck with a shout as she went hurtling against the starboard wall. Demetrius and Arktos too were thrown in opposite directions while yet another of their archers fell overboard, sacrificed to the murky depths below.
Desperately casting her gaze around the panicking ship while she slowly pulled herself up, Callidora’s heart sank. Was this what it had all come to? All these years of travelling the seas, of gaining their fortune, was this how it ended? Chaos, destruction, and betrayal?
No. It couldn’t end like this. She wouldn’t let it end like this.
Her husband lay dazed in the bow of the ship, having hit his head during the impact. Arktos meant to take advantage of his vulnerability, striding toward the fallen captain with purpose in his step. Upon seeing this Callidora snapped back to attention, her dagger firm in her grasp. No, this monster may have betrayed their crew, but he would not take Demetrius from her. If they lost everything else today, that was one thing she would not be letting go of.
Jumping over debris and winding her way through the panicked sailors, Dora brandished her weapon and ran straight toward Arktos, the rapidness of her tread giving the man just enough of a clue to turn before she was on him. “Callidora, no!” was her husband’s shout before she was shoving her knife into the meaty flesh of Arktos’s arm, cutting off the swing of his sword just as it meant to remove the captain’s head.
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To his credit, there was at least a pang of guilt across Arktos’s face when he pushed the first archer overboard, a man he had sailed next to all these months. That seemed to be the final knife in the back for Demetrius and his wife both, the former drawing his sword and striding toward the man while the latter screamed in shock. How could he so blithely destroy what they’d previously thought of as a comfortable camaraderie? Just went to show, who could ever really know someone?
The other archers started scattering, much to the captain’s dismay. Granted, they weren’t some highly trained military unit, but he thought his crew had more cohesiveness than this. At the first sign of danger, they ran instead of fighting? Gods, but what a mess this day had become. To have his first mate turn on him and the rest of his crew panic in the face of adversity… if they made it through this alive, Demetrius would be taking on some new sailors once they sailed into port.
If Lukos had his way, however, they’d be lucky if they even made it through this battle. A dawning horror was rising on Callidora’s face as she realized what the pirate meant to do, lining up his ship so he could ram theirs. With Arktos and Demetrius occupied with each other, Dora ran to the wheel of the ship and desperately turned it, hoping beyond hope that somehow they could avoid the worst of the collision. She started yelling to the rest of the crew to brace for impact, to move the ship so they wouldn’t bear the brunt, but no one was listening. They were all in an uproar.
Demetrius held his blade at his now former first mate’s throat, the much larger man looking down on him with a feral smile. “You gonna kill me, Captain?” he asked, parrying a sudden thrust with his own sword. “Didn’t think you had the balls.”
The merchant captain ignored the man’s taunt, feinting again, only for Arktos to block it. Neither of them seemed aware of the looming danger, though finally Dora’s shouts seemed to break through the tension. It was just long enough for Demetrius to break his focus and stare down the opposing ship as it came hurtling towards them.
The impact was resounding, the sounds of creaking and shattering wood rending the air. Dora held onto what she could, though she did lose both her footing and her grip—sprawling across the deck with a shout as she went hurtling against the starboard wall. Demetrius and Arktos too were thrown in opposite directions while yet another of their archers fell overboard, sacrificed to the murky depths below.
Desperately casting her gaze around the panicking ship while she slowly pulled herself up, Callidora’s heart sank. Was this what it had all come to? All these years of travelling the seas, of gaining their fortune, was this how it ended? Chaos, destruction, and betrayal?
No. It couldn’t end like this. She wouldn’t let it end like this.
Her husband lay dazed in the bow of the ship, having hit his head during the impact. Arktos meant to take advantage of his vulnerability, striding toward the fallen captain with purpose in his step. Upon seeing this Callidora snapped back to attention, her dagger firm in her grasp. No, this monster may have betrayed their crew, but he would not take Demetrius from her. If they lost everything else today, that was one thing she would not be letting go of.
Jumping over debris and winding her way through the panicked sailors, Dora brandished her weapon and ran straight toward Arktos, the rapidness of her tread giving the man just enough of a clue to turn before she was on him. “Callidora, no!” was her husband’s shout before she was shoving her knife into the meaty flesh of Arktos’s arm, cutting off the swing of his sword just as it meant to remove the captain’s head.
To his credit, there was at least a pang of guilt across Arktos’s face when he pushed the first archer overboard, a man he had sailed next to all these months. That seemed to be the final knife in the back for Demetrius and his wife both, the former drawing his sword and striding toward the man while the latter screamed in shock. How could he so blithely destroy what they’d previously thought of as a comfortable camaraderie? Just went to show, who could ever really know someone?
The other archers started scattering, much to the captain’s dismay. Granted, they weren’t some highly trained military unit, but he thought his crew had more cohesiveness than this. At the first sign of danger, they ran instead of fighting? Gods, but what a mess this day had become. To have his first mate turn on him and the rest of his crew panic in the face of adversity… if they made it through this alive, Demetrius would be taking on some new sailors once they sailed into port.
If Lukos had his way, however, they’d be lucky if they even made it through this battle. A dawning horror was rising on Callidora’s face as she realized what the pirate meant to do, lining up his ship so he could ram theirs. With Arktos and Demetrius occupied with each other, Dora ran to the wheel of the ship and desperately turned it, hoping beyond hope that somehow they could avoid the worst of the collision. She started yelling to the rest of the crew to brace for impact, to move the ship so they wouldn’t bear the brunt, but no one was listening. They were all in an uproar.
Demetrius held his blade at his now former first mate’s throat, the much larger man looking down on him with a feral smile. “You gonna kill me, Captain?” he asked, parrying a sudden thrust with his own sword. “Didn’t think you had the balls.”
The merchant captain ignored the man’s taunt, feinting again, only for Arktos to block it. Neither of them seemed aware of the looming danger, though finally Dora’s shouts seemed to break through the tension. It was just long enough for Demetrius to break his focus and stare down the opposing ship as it came hurtling towards them.
The impact was resounding, the sounds of creaking and shattering wood rending the air. Dora held onto what she could, though she did lose both her footing and her grip—sprawling across the deck with a shout as she went hurtling against the starboard wall. Demetrius and Arktos too were thrown in opposite directions while yet another of their archers fell overboard, sacrificed to the murky depths below.
Desperately casting her gaze around the panicking ship while she slowly pulled herself up, Callidora’s heart sank. Was this what it had all come to? All these years of travelling the seas, of gaining their fortune, was this how it ended? Chaos, destruction, and betrayal?
No. It couldn’t end like this. She wouldn’t let it end like this.
Her husband lay dazed in the bow of the ship, having hit his head during the impact. Arktos meant to take advantage of his vulnerability, striding toward the fallen captain with purpose in his step. Upon seeing this Callidora snapped back to attention, her dagger firm in her grasp. No, this monster may have betrayed their crew, but he would not take Demetrius from her. If they lost everything else today, that was one thing she would not be letting go of.
Jumping over debris and winding her way through the panicked sailors, Dora brandished her weapon and ran straight toward Arktos, the rapidness of her tread giving the man just enough of a clue to turn before she was on him. “Callidora, no!” was her husband’s shout before she was shoving her knife into the meaty flesh of Arktos’s arm, cutting off the swing of his sword just as it meant to remove the captain’s head.
Lukos’s eyes widened. His heart thudded. The crew of the Aceton were totally silent as every eye watched, every man crouched, all poised. The ship’s prow sliced through the water, rippling splashes thrown against the hull the only sound that mattered. He heard Dora’s futile attempts to rouse her crew but it didn’t matter. There was no stopping the inevitable, unstoppable conclusion to his own actions. Even if he’d wanted to, he could not alter the course of his own ship; not now. Not when they were moving so fast, so precisely. Dora’s adorable attempt to turn her ship wouldn’t work. There wasn’t enough wind for a hard turn like that, and certainly not enough time to get a vessel of that size out of the way completely.
“Brace for impact!” Lukos commanded, gripping the railing. His eyes were not on the rostrum, long nose of the ship, but on Dora’s ship. The rostrum was designed for two purposes: cutting through the water, and being the strong, bracing point at which the ships would collide with each other first. Because it was narrow, it would batter straight through the merchant ship’s hull, causing a massive hole. By the time the rest of the Aceton hit the other ship, the timbers probably wouldn’t crack and the water and impact would have slowed them enough that he wouldn’t sail straight through them. They’d be stuck together for a time, like a fist through a wall.
The seconds slipped by impossibly slowly, his own voice coming out deep and sliding away, lost to the breeze. The ship dipped, he stared into the crystaline blue depths of the Aegean, then the ship’s nose rose, Lukos blinked, and the merchant vessel’s hull appeared. The rostrum punched through and Lukos’s body flung forward, his arm pulled nearly out of socket from the rope wrapped around his wrist and forearm, but he did not roll across the deck. Splinters, some as thick as his finger, flew in all directions. Chunks of wood scattered across his decking, but the railing of his ship was now almost level with that of the other vessel.
“Board!” Lukos roared at his crew who were working on picking themselves up. “Go! Go!” Uncoiling the rope from his arm, he unsheathed his sword and leaped with the agility of a cat up the foot or so of distance and onto Dora’s ship. “Take it all!” he shouted. What he did not specify was if they were to kill or not. Before, he’d promised everyone would be allowed to live if Dora and her husband stood down and let them just come and take what they wanted. That plan had been spurned. Lukos’s generosity was mostly gone, along with his mercy.
At the grunt of Arktos, Lukos saw the gorgeous spray of blood from the man’s arm and dove toward Dora. Catching her around the middle, he flung her to the ground and kicked his boot toward her face, intending to get the toe of his boot beneath her chin. Rattle her teeth in her skull a little bit and it might daze her. This one he didn’t intend to kill. If anything, Lukos would make sure this mouthy bitch saw all her hopes and dreams sliding away from her with no ability to stop it.
“Fuck you and your mouth,” he snarled down at her.
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Lukos’s eyes widened. His heart thudded. The crew of the Aceton were totally silent as every eye watched, every man crouched, all poised. The ship’s prow sliced through the water, rippling splashes thrown against the hull the only sound that mattered. He heard Dora’s futile attempts to rouse her crew but it didn’t matter. There was no stopping the inevitable, unstoppable conclusion to his own actions. Even if he’d wanted to, he could not alter the course of his own ship; not now. Not when they were moving so fast, so precisely. Dora’s adorable attempt to turn her ship wouldn’t work. There wasn’t enough wind for a hard turn like that, and certainly not enough time to get a vessel of that size out of the way completely.
“Brace for impact!” Lukos commanded, gripping the railing. His eyes were not on the rostrum, long nose of the ship, but on Dora’s ship. The rostrum was designed for two purposes: cutting through the water, and being the strong, bracing point at which the ships would collide with each other first. Because it was narrow, it would batter straight through the merchant ship’s hull, causing a massive hole. By the time the rest of the Aceton hit the other ship, the timbers probably wouldn’t crack and the water and impact would have slowed them enough that he wouldn’t sail straight through them. They’d be stuck together for a time, like a fist through a wall.
The seconds slipped by impossibly slowly, his own voice coming out deep and sliding away, lost to the breeze. The ship dipped, he stared into the crystaline blue depths of the Aegean, then the ship’s nose rose, Lukos blinked, and the merchant vessel’s hull appeared. The rostrum punched through and Lukos’s body flung forward, his arm pulled nearly out of socket from the rope wrapped around his wrist and forearm, but he did not roll across the deck. Splinters, some as thick as his finger, flew in all directions. Chunks of wood scattered across his decking, but the railing of his ship was now almost level with that of the other vessel.
“Board!” Lukos roared at his crew who were working on picking themselves up. “Go! Go!” Uncoiling the rope from his arm, he unsheathed his sword and leaped with the agility of a cat up the foot or so of distance and onto Dora’s ship. “Take it all!” he shouted. What he did not specify was if they were to kill or not. Before, he’d promised everyone would be allowed to live if Dora and her husband stood down and let them just come and take what they wanted. That plan had been spurned. Lukos’s generosity was mostly gone, along with his mercy.
At the grunt of Arktos, Lukos saw the gorgeous spray of blood from the man’s arm and dove toward Dora. Catching her around the middle, he flung her to the ground and kicked his boot toward her face, intending to get the toe of his boot beneath her chin. Rattle her teeth in her skull a little bit and it might daze her. This one he didn’t intend to kill. If anything, Lukos would make sure this mouthy bitch saw all her hopes and dreams sliding away from her with no ability to stop it.
“Fuck you and your mouth,” he snarled down at her.
Lukos’s eyes widened. His heart thudded. The crew of the Aceton were totally silent as every eye watched, every man crouched, all poised. The ship’s prow sliced through the water, rippling splashes thrown against the hull the only sound that mattered. He heard Dora’s futile attempts to rouse her crew but it didn’t matter. There was no stopping the inevitable, unstoppable conclusion to his own actions. Even if he’d wanted to, he could not alter the course of his own ship; not now. Not when they were moving so fast, so precisely. Dora’s adorable attempt to turn her ship wouldn’t work. There wasn’t enough wind for a hard turn like that, and certainly not enough time to get a vessel of that size out of the way completely.
“Brace for impact!” Lukos commanded, gripping the railing. His eyes were not on the rostrum, long nose of the ship, but on Dora’s ship. The rostrum was designed for two purposes: cutting through the water, and being the strong, bracing point at which the ships would collide with each other first. Because it was narrow, it would batter straight through the merchant ship’s hull, causing a massive hole. By the time the rest of the Aceton hit the other ship, the timbers probably wouldn’t crack and the water and impact would have slowed them enough that he wouldn’t sail straight through them. They’d be stuck together for a time, like a fist through a wall.
The seconds slipped by impossibly slowly, his own voice coming out deep and sliding away, lost to the breeze. The ship dipped, he stared into the crystaline blue depths of the Aegean, then the ship’s nose rose, Lukos blinked, and the merchant vessel’s hull appeared. The rostrum punched through and Lukos’s body flung forward, his arm pulled nearly out of socket from the rope wrapped around his wrist and forearm, but he did not roll across the deck. Splinters, some as thick as his finger, flew in all directions. Chunks of wood scattered across his decking, but the railing of his ship was now almost level with that of the other vessel.
“Board!” Lukos roared at his crew who were working on picking themselves up. “Go! Go!” Uncoiling the rope from his arm, he unsheathed his sword and leaped with the agility of a cat up the foot or so of distance and onto Dora’s ship. “Take it all!” he shouted. What he did not specify was if they were to kill or not. Before, he’d promised everyone would be allowed to live if Dora and her husband stood down and let them just come and take what they wanted. That plan had been spurned. Lukos’s generosity was mostly gone, along with his mercy.
At the grunt of Arktos, Lukos saw the gorgeous spray of blood from the man’s arm and dove toward Dora. Catching her around the middle, he flung her to the ground and kicked his boot toward her face, intending to get the toe of his boot beneath her chin. Rattle her teeth in her skull a little bit and it might daze her. This one he didn’t intend to kill. If anything, Lukos would make sure this mouthy bitch saw all her hopes and dreams sliding away from her with no ability to stop it.
“Fuck you and your mouth,” he snarled down at her.
The deck of Poseidon’s Pride was utter chaos, its sailors looking on in paralyzed horror as the pirates boarded. Few of them had ever been on a ship under attack before and once confronted with the situation, had no idea how to act. Should they fight back? Risk their lives for a bit of cargo? Or should they simply cave and let them take what they want? Perhaps they’d be spared if they did…
Both reactions were prevalent amongst the crew, many simply holding their hands up and backing off as the pirates took everything in sight. Others fought bitterly against the staggering odds, swinging swords and fists alike to protect both themselves and what they carried. The screams and grunts of men in pain echoed across the water whilst Demetrius stared at the sky in despair.
Was this what it all came to?
Shaking off the painful daze that threatened to consume him, Demetrius slowly sat up, just in time to see his wife strike out at Arktos. It seemed it was but the work of a few seconds before she was under the boot of a different assailant, the captain struggling to his feet with wide-eyed fury.
“Release her!” he shouted at the pirate, stumbling toward Lukos and Callidora with a stubborn resolve coloring his features. Something in his leg had definitely snapped when he’d been thrown against the hull, but he shoved the pain down as he struggled toward his wife. It didn’t matter what happened to him, the ship, the cargo… all that mattered in that moment was the last person on Earth that he gave a damn about any more. He couldn’t let anything happen to Callidora.
Before he could reach her, he was intercepted by none other than the one she’d attacked. Holding his injured arm to his chest, their former first mate struck out with his sword, Demetrius only dodging him in the last moment. “Out of my way!” he bellowed with a slow counter-attack, the other easily ducking his blade.
Arktos ignored the captain’s demand, feinting again and this time managing to just barely catch the side of his leg. Hissing in pain, Demetrius went down to one knee and sent a prayer up to the gods for he and his wife both. If he couldn’t protect her, surely they could…
The spitfire in question, however, had certainly not given up yet. Brought to the ground with a boot in her face, Dora only snarled up at her attacker. “You think I’m afraid of you, you lousy sack of shit?” Green eyes met his with a bright defiance even as a bruise started swelling on her chin. Tightening her grip on the knife she still held, Dora brought it up quickly, aiming for Lukos’s knee. “Think again!”
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The deck of Poseidon’s Pride was utter chaos, its sailors looking on in paralyzed horror as the pirates boarded. Few of them had ever been on a ship under attack before and once confronted with the situation, had no idea how to act. Should they fight back? Risk their lives for a bit of cargo? Or should they simply cave and let them take what they want? Perhaps they’d be spared if they did…
Both reactions were prevalent amongst the crew, many simply holding their hands up and backing off as the pirates took everything in sight. Others fought bitterly against the staggering odds, swinging swords and fists alike to protect both themselves and what they carried. The screams and grunts of men in pain echoed across the water whilst Demetrius stared at the sky in despair.
Was this what it all came to?
Shaking off the painful daze that threatened to consume him, Demetrius slowly sat up, just in time to see his wife strike out at Arktos. It seemed it was but the work of a few seconds before she was under the boot of a different assailant, the captain struggling to his feet with wide-eyed fury.
“Release her!” he shouted at the pirate, stumbling toward Lukos and Callidora with a stubborn resolve coloring his features. Something in his leg had definitely snapped when he’d been thrown against the hull, but he shoved the pain down as he struggled toward his wife. It didn’t matter what happened to him, the ship, the cargo… all that mattered in that moment was the last person on Earth that he gave a damn about any more. He couldn’t let anything happen to Callidora.
Before he could reach her, he was intercepted by none other than the one she’d attacked. Holding his injured arm to his chest, their former first mate struck out with his sword, Demetrius only dodging him in the last moment. “Out of my way!” he bellowed with a slow counter-attack, the other easily ducking his blade.
Arktos ignored the captain’s demand, feinting again and this time managing to just barely catch the side of his leg. Hissing in pain, Demetrius went down to one knee and sent a prayer up to the gods for he and his wife both. If he couldn’t protect her, surely they could…
The spitfire in question, however, had certainly not given up yet. Brought to the ground with a boot in her face, Dora only snarled up at her attacker. “You think I’m afraid of you, you lousy sack of shit?” Green eyes met his with a bright defiance even as a bruise started swelling on her chin. Tightening her grip on the knife she still held, Dora brought it up quickly, aiming for Lukos’s knee. “Think again!”
The deck of Poseidon’s Pride was utter chaos, its sailors looking on in paralyzed horror as the pirates boarded. Few of them had ever been on a ship under attack before and once confronted with the situation, had no idea how to act. Should they fight back? Risk their lives for a bit of cargo? Or should they simply cave and let them take what they want? Perhaps they’d be spared if they did…
Both reactions were prevalent amongst the crew, many simply holding their hands up and backing off as the pirates took everything in sight. Others fought bitterly against the staggering odds, swinging swords and fists alike to protect both themselves and what they carried. The screams and grunts of men in pain echoed across the water whilst Demetrius stared at the sky in despair.
Was this what it all came to?
Shaking off the painful daze that threatened to consume him, Demetrius slowly sat up, just in time to see his wife strike out at Arktos. It seemed it was but the work of a few seconds before she was under the boot of a different assailant, the captain struggling to his feet with wide-eyed fury.
“Release her!” he shouted at the pirate, stumbling toward Lukos and Callidora with a stubborn resolve coloring his features. Something in his leg had definitely snapped when he’d been thrown against the hull, but he shoved the pain down as he struggled toward his wife. It didn’t matter what happened to him, the ship, the cargo… all that mattered in that moment was the last person on Earth that he gave a damn about any more. He couldn’t let anything happen to Callidora.
Before he could reach her, he was intercepted by none other than the one she’d attacked. Holding his injured arm to his chest, their former first mate struck out with his sword, Demetrius only dodging him in the last moment. “Out of my way!” he bellowed with a slow counter-attack, the other easily ducking his blade.
Arktos ignored the captain’s demand, feinting again and this time managing to just barely catch the side of his leg. Hissing in pain, Demetrius went down to one knee and sent a prayer up to the gods for he and his wife both. If he couldn’t protect her, surely they could…
The spitfire in question, however, had certainly not given up yet. Brought to the ground with a boot in her face, Dora only snarled up at her attacker. “You think I’m afraid of you, you lousy sack of shit?” Green eyes met his with a bright defiance even as a bruise started swelling on her chin. Tightening her grip on the knife she still held, Dora brought it up quickly, aiming for Lukos’s knee. “Think again!”
Figures darted to and fro, mere shadows and impressions of people in his periphery, rather than anything clear and distinct. The ship rocked hard beneath their feet with the constant, furious motion of its passengers. The men who gave up immediately were tied into clusters and made to stand like they were human sheaves of wheat. The ones who chose to fight were met with the avid bloodlust and passionate joy that Lukos’s crew, in particular, possessed in such instances. The air stank of blood, sweat, cleansed in relieving gusts of salt scented wind by the Aegean.
Lukos glared down at Dora, teeth bared, tip of his sword digging against her pristine cheek. Her husband’s barking demand reached him from across the deck and Lukos glanced up to watch the pitiful attempt the man made at rescuing his bitch wife. Arktos lumbered between them, blocking most of Lukos’s view. Occasionally that happened; fights became utterly dull simply because there wasn’t a good enough vantage point to see them. It was almost a reprieve to hear Callidora’s snarling from under his boot.
”You think I’m afraid of you, you lousy sack of shit?"
“You’d be an idiot not to, sweet heart-fuck!” he shoved violently away from her, the glint of the sun on the dagger’s blade the only thing that saved his knee. His butt hit the deck and he immediately brought his sword up, to keep her away from him while he gained his bearings. Before he could scramble to his feet, two men landed between himself and Callidora, rolling and tumbling over each other, limbs kicking and hitting anything within reach. Lukos scooted out of the way, momentarily confused by the copious blood trail but thought nothing more about it as he shot to his feet once the men were past. With Arktos dealing with the husband, he was free to take the wife.
He dove for her, catching her about the middle again and slamming them both onto the deck. Then he was straddling her, attempting to wrestle the knife from her hand, squeezing her as painfully hard as he could with his thighs, and rolling with her to keep her from stabbing him. Any time she took a swing with the knife, he flung himself to the side, legs still gripping her. They went from him on top, to her on top, back to him, then her, ending in him, until he was nearly dizzy, blood pouring from his leg the entire time from a gash he couldn’t feel yet. As soon as he could get her knife from her, he intended to punch her in the gut and her pretty face. See how she liked being sassy then.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Figures darted to and fro, mere shadows and impressions of people in his periphery, rather than anything clear and distinct. The ship rocked hard beneath their feet with the constant, furious motion of its passengers. The men who gave up immediately were tied into clusters and made to stand like they were human sheaves of wheat. The ones who chose to fight were met with the avid bloodlust and passionate joy that Lukos’s crew, in particular, possessed in such instances. The air stank of blood, sweat, cleansed in relieving gusts of salt scented wind by the Aegean.
Lukos glared down at Dora, teeth bared, tip of his sword digging against her pristine cheek. Her husband’s barking demand reached him from across the deck and Lukos glanced up to watch the pitiful attempt the man made at rescuing his bitch wife. Arktos lumbered between them, blocking most of Lukos’s view. Occasionally that happened; fights became utterly dull simply because there wasn’t a good enough vantage point to see them. It was almost a reprieve to hear Callidora’s snarling from under his boot.
”You think I’m afraid of you, you lousy sack of shit?"
“You’d be an idiot not to, sweet heart-fuck!” he shoved violently away from her, the glint of the sun on the dagger’s blade the only thing that saved his knee. His butt hit the deck and he immediately brought his sword up, to keep her away from him while he gained his bearings. Before he could scramble to his feet, two men landed between himself and Callidora, rolling and tumbling over each other, limbs kicking and hitting anything within reach. Lukos scooted out of the way, momentarily confused by the copious blood trail but thought nothing more about it as he shot to his feet once the men were past. With Arktos dealing with the husband, he was free to take the wife.
He dove for her, catching her about the middle again and slamming them both onto the deck. Then he was straddling her, attempting to wrestle the knife from her hand, squeezing her as painfully hard as he could with his thighs, and rolling with her to keep her from stabbing him. Any time she took a swing with the knife, he flung himself to the side, legs still gripping her. They went from him on top, to her on top, back to him, then her, ending in him, until he was nearly dizzy, blood pouring from his leg the entire time from a gash he couldn’t feel yet. As soon as he could get her knife from her, he intended to punch her in the gut and her pretty face. See how she liked being sassy then.
Figures darted to and fro, mere shadows and impressions of people in his periphery, rather than anything clear and distinct. The ship rocked hard beneath their feet with the constant, furious motion of its passengers. The men who gave up immediately were tied into clusters and made to stand like they were human sheaves of wheat. The ones who chose to fight were met with the avid bloodlust and passionate joy that Lukos’s crew, in particular, possessed in such instances. The air stank of blood, sweat, cleansed in relieving gusts of salt scented wind by the Aegean.
Lukos glared down at Dora, teeth bared, tip of his sword digging against her pristine cheek. Her husband’s barking demand reached him from across the deck and Lukos glanced up to watch the pitiful attempt the man made at rescuing his bitch wife. Arktos lumbered between them, blocking most of Lukos’s view. Occasionally that happened; fights became utterly dull simply because there wasn’t a good enough vantage point to see them. It was almost a reprieve to hear Callidora’s snarling from under his boot.
”You think I’m afraid of you, you lousy sack of shit?"
“You’d be an idiot not to, sweet heart-fuck!” he shoved violently away from her, the glint of the sun on the dagger’s blade the only thing that saved his knee. His butt hit the deck and he immediately brought his sword up, to keep her away from him while he gained his bearings. Before he could scramble to his feet, two men landed between himself and Callidora, rolling and tumbling over each other, limbs kicking and hitting anything within reach. Lukos scooted out of the way, momentarily confused by the copious blood trail but thought nothing more about it as he shot to his feet once the men were past. With Arktos dealing with the husband, he was free to take the wife.
He dove for her, catching her about the middle again and slamming them both onto the deck. Then he was straddling her, attempting to wrestle the knife from her hand, squeezing her as painfully hard as he could with his thighs, and rolling with her to keep her from stabbing him. Any time she took a swing with the knife, he flung himself to the side, legs still gripping her. They went from him on top, to her on top, back to him, then her, ending in him, until he was nearly dizzy, blood pouring from his leg the entire time from a gash he couldn’t feel yet. As soon as he could get her knife from her, he intended to punch her in the gut and her pretty face. See how she liked being sassy then.
There was a smirk of triumph on Callidora’s face when the blade landed, even if it wasn’t the spot she’d actually aimed for. Either way, it was a strike, and any blood she could draw would ultimately help her if she wanted to make it out of this alive. The pirate launched himself back while Dora struggled to her feet, ready to press her advantage and make another pass at him. However, before she could advance any further on her quarry, two men rolled between them and cut off her view—changing her strategy in an instant and deciding that perhaps now would be the best time to try and run.
Perhaps not the most brilliant tactic, after all. Within moments, Lukos was tackling her back to the deck, Callidora hitting the wood with a sharp gasp. His legs around her waist were bruisingly tight in their grip, the woman wincing and clenching her jaw as she fought to make another slice land anywhere she could.
Flipping over and over again as Lukos practically rolled them across the deck, Callidora cried out in frustration at the futility of her situation. He was bigger, stronger, and far more experienced in a fight—what hope could she really have to win? Would it be better if she just surrendered and let him take what he wanted?
No. That sort of thinking was only going to get her into trouble. More trouble. At this point, there was no way he was just going to let them get off without making sure they paid for their resistance. Maybe they should have just given in from the start, but passivity had never been Dora’s way. That wasn’t likely to change any time soon.
If she had any time soon, anyway.
Pinned back down again, she pushed up against him with all her might, arms and legs working together to try to heave him off her. If she had any chance of getting out of this relatively unscathed, she had to put distance between her and the pirate. If she could just get to Demetrius, grab him and get him over the side of the ship…
“Your kind are vermin,” she spat at her assailant, verdant eyes aflame as they glared into his face. “Less than vermin. Claiming the spoils of hard-working people as your own without putting in the effort to earn it yourself. When you face Hades’ judgment in the afterlife, may you know nothing but torment until the end of time.”
Swinging her knife for his face and kicking out as hard as she could while trapped beneath him, she fervently prayed that this attempt would finally dislodge him, and she might get free…
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There was a smirk of triumph on Callidora’s face when the blade landed, even if it wasn’t the spot she’d actually aimed for. Either way, it was a strike, and any blood she could draw would ultimately help her if she wanted to make it out of this alive. The pirate launched himself back while Dora struggled to her feet, ready to press her advantage and make another pass at him. However, before she could advance any further on her quarry, two men rolled between them and cut off her view—changing her strategy in an instant and deciding that perhaps now would be the best time to try and run.
Perhaps not the most brilliant tactic, after all. Within moments, Lukos was tackling her back to the deck, Callidora hitting the wood with a sharp gasp. His legs around her waist were bruisingly tight in their grip, the woman wincing and clenching her jaw as she fought to make another slice land anywhere she could.
Flipping over and over again as Lukos practically rolled them across the deck, Callidora cried out in frustration at the futility of her situation. He was bigger, stronger, and far more experienced in a fight—what hope could she really have to win? Would it be better if she just surrendered and let him take what he wanted?
No. That sort of thinking was only going to get her into trouble. More trouble. At this point, there was no way he was just going to let them get off without making sure they paid for their resistance. Maybe they should have just given in from the start, but passivity had never been Dora’s way. That wasn’t likely to change any time soon.
If she had any time soon, anyway.
Pinned back down again, she pushed up against him with all her might, arms and legs working together to try to heave him off her. If she had any chance of getting out of this relatively unscathed, she had to put distance between her and the pirate. If she could just get to Demetrius, grab him and get him over the side of the ship…
“Your kind are vermin,” she spat at her assailant, verdant eyes aflame as they glared into his face. “Less than vermin. Claiming the spoils of hard-working people as your own without putting in the effort to earn it yourself. When you face Hades’ judgment in the afterlife, may you know nothing but torment until the end of time.”
Swinging her knife for his face and kicking out as hard as she could while trapped beneath him, she fervently prayed that this attempt would finally dislodge him, and she might get free…
There was a smirk of triumph on Callidora’s face when the blade landed, even if it wasn’t the spot she’d actually aimed for. Either way, it was a strike, and any blood she could draw would ultimately help her if she wanted to make it out of this alive. The pirate launched himself back while Dora struggled to her feet, ready to press her advantage and make another pass at him. However, before she could advance any further on her quarry, two men rolled between them and cut off her view—changing her strategy in an instant and deciding that perhaps now would be the best time to try and run.
Perhaps not the most brilliant tactic, after all. Within moments, Lukos was tackling her back to the deck, Callidora hitting the wood with a sharp gasp. His legs around her waist were bruisingly tight in their grip, the woman wincing and clenching her jaw as she fought to make another slice land anywhere she could.
Flipping over and over again as Lukos practically rolled them across the deck, Callidora cried out in frustration at the futility of her situation. He was bigger, stronger, and far more experienced in a fight—what hope could she really have to win? Would it be better if she just surrendered and let him take what he wanted?
No. That sort of thinking was only going to get her into trouble. More trouble. At this point, there was no way he was just going to let them get off without making sure they paid for their resistance. Maybe they should have just given in from the start, but passivity had never been Dora’s way. That wasn’t likely to change any time soon.
If she had any time soon, anyway.
Pinned back down again, she pushed up against him with all her might, arms and legs working together to try to heave him off her. If she had any chance of getting out of this relatively unscathed, she had to put distance between her and the pirate. If she could just get to Demetrius, grab him and get him over the side of the ship…
“Your kind are vermin,” she spat at her assailant, verdant eyes aflame as they glared into his face. “Less than vermin. Claiming the spoils of hard-working people as your own without putting in the effort to earn it yourself. When you face Hades’ judgment in the afterlife, may you know nothing but torment until the end of time.”
Swinging her knife for his face and kicking out as hard as she could while trapped beneath him, she fervently prayed that this attempt would finally dislodge him, and she might get free…