❝Dead men tell no tales, lass. That's why very few pirates have cemented their names in history. The road to piracy leads to a short drop and a quick stop.❞
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The life of a commoner never sat easily with her, especially when she was su...
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"HARD TO PORT!" The Captain roared, but his voice was muffled out by the thunderous drum of the rain as it poured down on the crew. The ship's hull scraped over a cluster of jagged rocks, and you realized that it must have redirected itself off course from the hard wind. What the captain should have really said was 'furl the sails', rather than moving portside to keep them from tearing, but it was already too late.
The ship veered dangerously to the side, sending you hurtling over the edge of the crow's nest. It was only by your luck and your tenacious ability to think quickly on your feet that you were able to hold onto the railing with the tips of your fingers, only just barely though. With the slipperiness of the rain, you were quickly losing traction, and it would only be a matter of time before you plummeted to your death.
Another shriek sounded in the distance and you whipped your head in the direction of it.
This one had been much closer than the last; it sent a chill down your spine. The intonation, the pitch, the very quality of it was like nothing you'd ever heard of before. Not a seal, not a whale, nor even a seagull. It was something very different; something dangerous.
With a pained whimper, you gathered every bit of strength in your arms and hauled yourself back onto the crow's nest, falling to all fours on a staggered breath before you slid down against the side. For a moment, you held your face in your hands, taking in deep, composed breaths as you attempted to gather your wits about you again, but between the shrieks and the cries of the men, and the deafening hail of the rain, you couldn't even make out your own thoughts. This was all quickly descending into chaos.
The mist grew thicker -- if that was even possible, and you could barely see three feet ahead of you without having to stand up and visibly hold your hand above your brow to keep the rain from blinding you. In the midst of it all, you saw a crack of lightning flash through the gray clouds; its vibrant nature illuminating the blackness of the night until you saw a ship. Despite its faint outline, you knew exactly what it was, or rather, who it was -- The Berserker, Devourer of ships.
Its black, tattered, sails ruffled in the harsh wind, and the flag bore the torn remnants of a crimson skull and crossbones. You squinted against the darkness to gain better sight of it; if you weren't so terrified and sore, you thought you'd be able to appreciate its beauty a lot more. The ship, though beautiful, was inherently terrifying in its visual appearance alone; a hull the color of raven's wings with three rows of canons carved into the shape of a wailing banshee, and its figurehead that depicted that of a skeletal woman, her boney hands clenched around blackened chains which held two hanging bodies -- decomposed and tethered by the vertebrae of their spine. Even without the other parts, the bow alone was enough to make you shiver. Like the Flying Dutchman, The Berserker had fang-like teeth lining the entirety of the front half of the ship as a ram of sorts to deter potential threats. It was terrifying in a blood-chilling type of way, but you also felt yourself grow warm with anticipation.
