Braid opened his eyes, jarred awake once again by the rain that plagued his memories of these past few weeks. He groaned, his cot swaying as he slowly worked himself out onto the cold, hardwood floor. As he laced up his steed toed boots, he thought to himself “Damn rain. How many nights of this hell are we gonna stay through?”
He stood, threw on his cloak, a chest-plate with a strange black sheen to it, with a dark hood on the back, and meandered his way across his room, stopping just left of the door. He opened an old cabinet, filled with a various mix of potions and powders, all in damage resistant glass. He took out a silver syringe, already primed, left by himself the previous night. Taking a quick breath, he injected it into his arm. Just seconds after using it, he already felt more awake, ready to bounce around, even if it was in this hellscape.
He strode confidently to the doors of his cabin, picked up the rifle hanging on the doorknob, slung it over his shoulder, and with a loud bang, slammed the doors open. As he fell upon the threshold of the barely lit deck, and after signaling the helmsman to start waking up the majority of the crew, he took a deep breath.
“WE”VE GOT A LONG DAY OF HUNTING AHEAD OF US… SWITCH WATCHES, WE NEED OUR BEST OUT HERE” The helmsman yelled out over the decks.
Blocking the noise out of his mind, Braid wandered over to the taffrail, watching the seemingly dead ocean for any signs of movement. The environment here could be misleading, according to the information his crew had gathered. Braid could almost taste the musty air, air that seemed alive, with fog that tasted like salt and gave more than a few hints of things long rotten lurking under that water. Next, he looked to the clouds, always black, not a hint of sunlight for leagues, just that blue, eerie light that leaked up from the depths, its source always out of their sight.
Those in his crew that weren't already on watch started filtering onto the deck. They looked disheveled, not having any time to take care of themselves, due to being attacked three times the previous night. The pirate captain felt for them, but he still had his job to do, and a reputation to keep up. Walking over to where the crew had congregated, he snapped his fingers to gather their attention “We don't have time to stand around. Get your lazy bones to work before I throw you off the back of th-” as he was finishing his statement, he felt something impact the back of his head as he got sent flying forward a few feet and despite trying his best, he fell flat on his face. He was about to pull his rifle out to shoot the bloody traitor when he heard someone chuckling behind him. Even though his laugh sounded like a sick banshee, it was welcomed among the dreary atmosphere.
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“Well, well, how the mighty have fallen. You, good sir, need a break.” It was his first mate, Orum Jurim, a forest Ent.
“Well maybe someone needs to catch up with the mood, you overjoyous bark-for-brains.'' The tired captain retorted with a smirk.
He looked back at his crew from his position on the floor, and righted himself, “Alright, get to work, but remember, we're hunting a big one this time. Keep up your guard, I don’t want anyone dying on my watch.”
A screeching wail went off in his mind, and he sent a few mental commands to lights on the ship. His crew tensed, conversation dying down. The lights were in a combat position, combing the sky, the black waves, anything that could give a hint to what was setting off his remote alarm drones. Braid’s eyes widened, as he saw what was approaching their ship this time. He excitedly slung his rifle off his shoulder. “Get ready for combat” he whispered into the stone that made up the clasp of his cloak. The crew all started pulling out weapons, started aiming cannons that slid out from beneath the panels on the deck, tying ropes, getting safety lines secure, while wizards started chanting spells to power the sails if necessary, and warlocks prepared their worst hexes for what abyssal horror came to face them. The rain died down, as it always does when one of these creatures started to surface, leaving only the sound of the black waves lapping against the still ship. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, a terrible shrieking came from the starboard side of the ship, the sound worming its way into the mind, aiming to drive any and all who heard it to madness.
Some of the crew fell over, unconscious, but some others fought through the mental pain and stayed standing, if only barely. Braid and Orum barely reacted at all, having long built-up mental resistance to these horrors. As Braid saw the full visage of the monster that rose to greet them, the crew looked at him for the signal to raise sails and were instantly cowed by the manic grin on his face.
“Lucky first catch… It looks like it’s gonna be fun” Braid said as he loaded a bullet in his rifle’s chamber and prepared to dance.