[Secyclion] Not All Boat Threads Suck (Roscarnis)

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

It had been a long time since Rosie had properly danced. These days, if it wasn’t bawdy and fast-paced, she had no want of it. But as Pierrefonds’ arm wrapped around her waist and he took her hand in his, everything else seemed to melt away. She was a little rusty but still able to keep up with his lead. The music surrounded them, their boots floating across the wooden floor. To her, it was the perfect end to an exciting meeting. After all this time, liberty felt like it was within reach. Now all she had to do was take it.

A tall order considering how flighty she tended to be. Right now though, she was content to have received something of a blessing from one of her father’s heroes. She would have preferred if Jean-Michel had rallied and promised to become president of Jaedaxia once it was all over, but she hoped she could save that idea for another day.

The song was only vaguely familiar, one that she was sure held some sort of significance, but she couldn’t put her finger on it just yet. Still, she hummed along as best she could, eyes sparkling in the sunlight that filtered through the windows and a pleasant grin affixed to her lips. For once, Rosie was satisfied with an easy moment in time.

It didn’t last long though. Once the song was over, she figured it was time to liven things up and she started clapping a syncopated rhythm and stomping her foot. It didn’t get past her that Jean-Michel and the others were depressed and downtrodden, even with her vow to finish the work they’d started. When someone she cared about (like it or not, Jean-Michel was one of those people, new acquaintance though he might be) was down, Rosie felt it her duty to cheer them. Even if it was only a temporary fix.

She wasn’t very good at her magic, and she hated that she even had access to it, but this situation seemed to call for it. Clearing her mind, she began to sing, weaving the essence of hope and cheer into her shanty. When the chorus came, she sang louder, ”Soon may our freedom come, to bring us liberty, peace and fun. One day when the Empire’s done, they’ll let my people go!”

At some point, she twirled over to Alexandros and held his hand tight. She pointed to the window where the suns were just beginning to set. Despite all that had happened, Rosie hadn’t forgotten about the ghost ships or their promised rendezvous under the stars. While she wasn’t known for keeping her word all the time, she mostly did.

She didn’t think there was much else she could do here, not unless Jean-Michel and his men suddenly had a change of heart and wanted to set sail for Jaedaxia straight away. Which left her itinerary wide open. ”It’s been an exciting day, mon ami. Will the evening live up to expectations?”

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

One lost track of time when there was alcohol and dancing involved, and the beauty of Secyclion was that it was always time for drinking, dancing and other nefarious activities. But for a moment of time, it only showed what Jaedaxia yet might be. Sure, sure, compared to these islanders, most mainlanders were considered and too prim to allow themselves to indulge in daytime partying, but really, they were missing out.

It was when Rosie leaned into whisper to Alexandros did the Eunesian sweep her off her feet and into his arms gracefully, loudly proclaiming that they were leaving for the beach.

Laughter, claps surrounded the White Ox, filled with people who were aware of Alexandros' antics.

Jean-Michel only smirked wryly, perhaps thinking that her time in Secyclion would eventually disavowal her of her audacious ambitions, yet then again, he did give her his ring. How she used it, would be up to her. "I bid you adieu, and may the Dragon God watch you." A shotglass filled with that same colorless liquid was lifted towards her, a toast, to Jaedaxia.

As for the evening plans? The suns had already set by the time they made it down to the caldera of the Red Island and they had to walk past the docks on the way to the beach, where it seemed a commotion was brewing. It seemed that a certain someone had been pulled out of the waters by a local fisherman, as Alexandros translated the passerbys conversation to Rosie.

Whe they finally moved past the circle of people, Rosie could see for herself that it was a scrawny looking man who clearly spent some time in the water. Or was it sweat? Whatever the case, he was shivering, screaming incoherently and a group of people surrounded him. His face was white, his eyes wide like he had just seen Jalat himself. Fear dripped out of ever soaked pore on his body, and he was crying as he kept on muttering the same words over and over again.

"Ghosts, feth, they're real! Fuck! Fuck! They took them, they took them all." Enamorian, from the accent, and was clearly in a state. Only other mainlanders seemed to bother with him, trying to shake him out of it, but the islanders? Well they just shook their heads and moved on with their lives.

"Stupid, silly mainlanders."

"Still want to go hunt for ghost ships, kyria?" Alexandros joked, shaking his head. The copious amount of alcohol seemed to have at least made him less nervous about this topic than before, but it remained to be seen if he would truly go with it. It was hard to take anything seriously now, both of the almost steeped to the brim with ouzo.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

Rosie, half drunk and riding high from her interaction with her childhood hero, squealed with delight when Alexandros lifted her into his arms. She did enjoy a man who knew what he wanted and took action to get it. But it was the words of Jean-Michel that would ring loudest in her ears in the coming weeks. She vaguely remembered her father telling her stories about the dragon god and the cult that worshipped him, but it would take some time for those memories to come back.

For now though, the revolutionaries parted and Rosie was whisked away back towards the beach.

She asked Alexandros to let her walk once it became clear that there was a commotion down by the water. The pair eventually arrived in time to hear the ravings of a man driven mad by whatever he’d seen: ghosts, apparently. Rosie squeezed Alexandros’ arm to contain her excitement. If every day on Secyclion was like this, Rosie might have to visit more often.

”Of course I do,” she said, still shocked that anyone would doubt her when she resolved to do something.

Whether her island companion followed her or not, Rosie pushed through the crowd towards the man who was crying. She crouched beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder in an effort to soothe him. ”Come now, cher. It can’t be that bad.” It probably was, but he didn’t need to hear it. Anything that could make a man break down like that in public had to be shocking. Which only made Rosie want to find out more.

”Who did they take? Where?” She could only assume the ghosts had somehow managed to kidnap this man’s crew, perhaps even had his ship. And if Rosie could save these people from the ghosts, maybe she could find herself in possession of a new ship to add to her fleet, complete with loyal crew. There was no downside to this that she could see.

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

Rosie was the first person to make physical contact with the inconsolable creature, it seemed, he turned towards her as he grabbed her arm, as though she was the only anchor to this world and the only thing keeping him in the grips of sanity. His eyes, veins were bulging with considerable strain, and his voice was agitated. Pleading.

"Dead! All of them! The Xet ghosts took them. Jalat protect them, my poor crew... please... help them." A universal gaps of surprise and shock from the bystanders at such an ominous declaration. Xet? So close to Eunesia? It was inconceivable. The Eunesian isles had been one of the few fragments left of this broken Empire where the ravages of the Xet Invasion had not touched.

Or were they just blissfully unaware?

Dead Xet ghosts. That's novel, at least. The man kept crying, screaming about incoherent things. Something about insects and wings and being swallowed by the fog and pirates. It all sounded ridiculous, really. Advice started flying around from the onlookers, none seemed willing to actually do something to help the poor, spooked man.

"Poor sod, must have drank too much seawater."

"Give him some ale, settle his nerves."

"Did the sirens get to him? He seems pretty messed up."

Turning around, she would notice her Secyclionian hunk was nowhere to be seen. Did he abandon her? It was hard to tell, they did drank so, so, so much that even if she stood still, the whole Red Island was spinning. Or was it her that spinning? Hard to tell.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

The guy wasn’t making any sense. How would a Xet ghost ship get all the way to Secyclion? Didn’t they usually just haunt the waters in which they sank? If ghosts could travel anywhere, was dying really such a scary thought? She shook her head, best not to think about dying on the precipice of an adventure. She could save that for those long nights at sea where all she has is the open water and the stars to keep her company.

”Okay, but where?” she asked again, but her question became lost in the statements of all the other do-gooders in the area. Rosie stood and shook a hand them. ”If you’re not going to be useful, bugger off!” Hopefully that did the trick.

Only now the island was spinning, or maybe she was and just didn’t realize it. As perpetually drunk as she usually was, Rosie hadn’t felt like this in a long time. The rum that she made was so weak that she had to drink half a bottle to get the slightest buzz. That ouzo was obviously much stronger.

And where was Alexandros? Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. Weren’t they supposed to be getting it on right now? ”Where did you go, mon amoureux de l'île?”

Oh right, the ghosts.

Rosie turned her attention back to the crying man, eyes wide as she fought to keep them open. ”Word of advice, mon ami hanté,” she said and collapsed onto her ass beside him with a surprised grunt. She brought a finger up in front of her face and pointed at the air as if she was giving an important lecture. ”Don’t drink the ouzo.”

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

Things were certainly devolving. Her mind certainly was, and ouzo was hitting her hard.

"Oh well, now there are more crazies." More murmurs around them, though at Rosie's outburst, people were backing off and moving away, the allure of seeing crazy mainlander antics was starting to wear off. The man seemed to have calmed down somewhat as she sat next to him, turning towards her and wiping at the tears off his cheeks.

Just what had he seen that would reduce a grown ass man to this catatonic mess? Certainly eldritch horrors were not so uncommon in Aelyria, so whatever spooked this man, must have been something out of the norm. Whatever it was, he clearly wasn't thinking/speaking straight, which really made it quite hard to sympathize with. It's perhaps only slightly bearable to Rosie because she was getting quite deliciously drunk.

"Will you help them? Please?" The man grabbed her again agitatedly. "We need to help them, oh God, I promised Arcturo's mother I'll keep him safe. Oh God.. oh GOD!" And then the crying continued again.

It was then, when the pirate queen of Jaedaxia would hear a familiar voice call out to her.

"Rosie? Ça va?" William reaching over to put a concerned hand on her shoulder. On his other hand was a Secyclionian woman who peered at both Rosie and spooked man with a concerned expression. Judging from the way her long hair was, it was obvious that someone had been doing more than a little bit of naked fun times.

It seemed her crewmates were doing mightily fine for themselves this time round, or better than her at least, since she seemed to have misplaced her own adonis-

-And then a known figure pushed through the crowd, almost shoving poor William in the sea. He was strapped in hard leather helmet and greaves, brandishing a long bronze sword in Secyclionian make. His rondels were silver, carrying the same white ox sigil of his tavern, and he looked like one of those legendary Eunesian heroes the islanders whispered about in tones of awe.

"Kyria, are we ready to go hunt some ghost ships?"

Alexandros himself, looking gloriously drunk and ready to regret this tomorrow.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

Rosie was certainly glad that the ouzo didn’t kick in while she was talking with Pierrefonds and his men. That would have been embarrassing. But public drunkenness was such a common occurrence for her, that yelling at a bunch of locals and then falling into the sand barely phazed her. Plus it was easy not to give a shit when her inhibitions had withered away and been replaced with alcohol-infused bravado.

Oh hey! The crying man wasn’t crying anymore, but he was talking. Rosie nodded along, pretending to listen but all she really heard was I wish I was as cool as you, captain! She couldn’t blame him really; she was a badass. ”Don’t worry, I’ll save them!” she said, but didn’t move. She first had to wait for the world to stop spinning. The first rule of adventuring: don’t fight the tide, just go with the flow.

And then her first mate decided to show up, with a sexy local woman attached to his arm, too. That reminded Rosie that she’d lost her island boytoy and she frowned at William. ”Just enjoying the breeze,” she told him, not wanting to interrupt his evening. She also wanted to keep the whole ghost ship thing a secret from him. That way, later, when they were back on the ship exchanging stories, her adventure would be the best one. Ghosts and revolutionaries definitely beat sexy beach antics.

She shooed him away with her hand.

Alexandros turned up again, this time looking like a fairytale hero and Rosie jumped to her feet, drawing her cutlass and whipping it through the air (watch out crying man!). ”Oui, mon ami! Let’s show these ghosts who’s boss.” Spoiler alert: it was Rosie; Rosie was the boss. ”Do you think swords work on ghosts? Or will the blade just--?” she stabbed the air as if it was a ghost and the blade went right through it. Hard to tell, she hadn’t been on many ghost fighting expeditions.

”I suppose we’ll find out,” she said and turned to grab the crying man by his collar and drag him to his feet. ”All right, monsieur émotif. Time to show us where your friends are so we can save them.” She shoved him forward with a kick to his rear.

To Alexandros, she said, ”Whoever kills the most ghosts wins.” A funny thought-- to kill a ghost. Rosie laughed: a loud, belly chuckle. ”Or whatever the equivalent is.”

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

The boat that Alexandros had found was a mid-sized fishing vessel that could be steered by two. It wasn't nowhere near what Rosie was used to, but it needs be when the Devil drives. No other sensible Secyclionian would take them, or loan them their ship, and the mainlanders were getting drugged, drunk or robbed blind this time of the darkening. Only fools sailed this late into the darkening in these treacherous waters.

And so with the three in tow - Rosie, Alexandros and the screaming raving mad man (Alexandros had sedated him with more alcohol which calmed him down somewhat) were sailing off one of smaller harbours off Neos Megalis rather than the main harbor. How Alexandros managed to find a vessel was anyone's guess, but it seemed there had been a lot animated shouting in Eunesian between her paramour a

By the time they stepped foot on the fishing boat, Rosie would have forgotten how they had ended up here in the first place from the main harbor.

In another time and place, Alexandros would have been the perfect First Mate, he knew his way around the vessel, understood how to minimize stretch on the sails, how to manage the different lines and the way he rigged everything was fascinating to watch; taking it like a literally fish out of water, but not in a bad way. Perhaps it was time Rosie thought about employing more Eunesians onboard her vessels - they clearly knew their craft and was easy on the eyes.

The sea air was invigorating, and seemed to sober both Rosie and Alexandros up somewhat, Alexandros was still securing everything and the way he leaped over lines and ropes, jugging multiple things with two hands and teeth (at times), the economy of his motions, was fascinating to watch.

The wolfish smile was back as he slid into her presence. The moonlight was twinkling in his eyes as he held Rosie's waist by one hand and pulled her close to him. The masculine smell of sweat and alcohol, mixed in with the spray of salt from the sea - was a most mesmerising thing. He grinned, ignoring the whimpering sob near the bow of the boat at the moment.

Perhaps a good show might even jolt him out of his stupor. Who knows?

"If I'm heading to the pits of Aeternia with you... I think some reassurances are in order, don't you think, kyria?"

He took Rosie's fingers to his lips, kissed them and placed them at the straps that would unhook the leather chest piece from his torso as the hand holding her to his hips slide down with a determined, deliberate grip.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

One minute Rosie was shoving the crying man forward and the next, she was on an unfamiliar ship watching Alexandros ready it to set sail. She blinked, drinking in the fresh air in an effort to clear her head. She could have helped, could have unfurled the sails and tied some knots, but Alexandros seemed determined to prove that he knew what he was doing. Who was she to stop him? His skin glistened in the moonlight and Rosie enjoyed every moment, watching as his muscles rippled, smiling as he used his teeth to hold line while his hands busied with other work. Mesmerizing.

The crying man seemed resigned to his fate at the bow of the ship, only a few irregular sniffles here and there. If he’d been a woman, Rosie might have tried to comfort him. But he wasn’t and she was more than a little disgusted by his emotional display. Men were supposed to be better at hiding those outbursts.

When everything was ready to go, Alexandros stood before her, so close that it was impossible to ignore the chemistry between them. His hand slipped around her waist, the other hand placing her own on the clasps that would rid him of his ridiculous armor. He issued a demand that might have earned himself a slap to the face and a knee to the groin from most other women. With Rosie, it was par for the course. She was used to men forward with her, something about her brazenness must have brought it out of them.

Slowly, she unhooked his chestpiece, helping him to remove it and drop it onto the deck. ”I can’t think of anything better to do to pass the time until we reach the ghost ships,” she said with a devious tilt to her lips.

Before they could take it any further though, Rosie dislodged herself from his grasp and turned the yardarm so that the ship’s sails caught the seabreeze, setting them off in whatever direction the crying man indicated. ”No peeking,” she warned him, but knew that there was little she could do to prevent him. Not unless she wanted to knock him over the head with the hilt of her cutlass and force him to pass out, but then they’d be without their guide. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had an audience.

She took her place back in Alexandros’ arms, one hand classily cupping his member through the fabric of his trousers. Smiling up at him, she said, ”This could very well be the last time either of us gets to do this. Better make it good.” The potential danger only made it more exciting.

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

OOC: Sexy times in sexy lion incoming, pls do not read if such content bothers you

He watched her as she set off the sails in the moper's direction, his eyes gleaming as he tugged off the leather kilt that all Secyclionian meh seemed to wear, standing proudly and as naked as the day he was born. He was a fine specimen of the classic Eunesian masculinity and there was something about the way he was so unabashed in all these that may excited the Jaedaxian.

"Might make him feel better if we got to watch." He shrugged, waving to the Enamorian as he turned his attention back on Rosie, pushing her back against the ship's wheel as each hand grabbed at the wheel's handles in an attempt to corner the pirate queen. He leaned in for a quick kiss, a teasing one as he nibbled at her lips playfully, hard, but not hard enough to draw blood.

Alexandros pulled her shirt up as he regaled in her nakedness, another had quickly going for her bel which he whipped off with ease. His kiss against her cheeks was hot, sourish with with the after taste of ouzo, but the hot, wet sounds of his breath against the pores on her neck only glided upwards outer shells of her ears as he licked it eagerly. One finger, and then two ran against her lips as he brought the digits to his own mouth, wetting the tips of it generously.

Those fingers then down her collarbone, then down to the her body as the navigated the curves of her form, the slickness that he left, when combined with the sea's wind and his hot, sizzling touches would seek to send a shiver of joy through her. He kissed her again, harder now as his fingers found their destination.

"Maybe we'll haunt the ghosts with your screams instead, kyria." Whispering softly into her right ear as he pressed his body against hers. The surface of his skin felt like it was on fire.

And that was when she would feel him reaching deeper inside, his other arm holding her in place as he as his knees pushed against her legs in a longing manner. Eyes were watching hers now as he looked to be savoring any hint of pleasure leaking from her body and he wanted her to know that it was him.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

The small ship set sail for ghostly waters, their only guide the ramblings of an overly emotional man. For all Rosie knew, he could be leading them straight into an ambush, but she wasn’t thinking about any of that right now. Too caught up in the romance of a spontaneous adventure, the pirate queen was willing to risk it all for a new story to tell her crew once the suns set.

And then there was Alexandros, naked, with his olive skin that glistened in the starlight, his muscles highlighted and taut, his easy smile that made her think maybe they weren’t sailing to their collective doom. No one could ever accuse Rosie of not getting caught up in the moment.

He pushed her against the ship’s wheel, pinning her there so that she had no other choice but to reach behind herself and hold the helm steady. Her clothing was next to be removed, as much as she would have preferred a quick fuck with only her pants pulled down, she said nothing in protest. Especially not when he claimed her mouth with his own, biting at her lower lip with such eager insistence that Rosie’s knees nearly buckled.

Alexandros licked his fingers, blazing a trail down her curves, raising goosebumps and shivers upon her skin, until he found what he was looking for between her thighs. Rosie caught her lips between her teeth, stifling a groan when his digits plunged inside of her. She leaned her head back, savoring the tempered method with which he worked her over. Grinding her hips against his hand, she reached around his neck and pulled him in for a deep and lingering kiss, moaning against his mouth in response to his statement about haunting the ghosts with her screams. It was a thought she rather enjoyed and any reservations she had about being seen (by the Enamorian or otherwise) fell to the wayside.

It wasn’t until she was close to climax that she pried his hand from between her thighs and turned around, pressing her ass against his now throbbing cock. Holding onto the wheel handles for leverage, she said, ”Then make me scream, mon amant de chasse aux fantômes.”

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

And so he did.

Placing his own fingers above hers as she grabbed onto the wheel's handles, he tilts his heads upwards and forward against her as she would feel him slide in slowly. And the when their bodies were finally locked together, one hand pulled away from hers and found a new grip in her hair as he pulled her head backwards and towards him so that the motion forced her body to arch backwards and closer towards him.

This singular action only allowed him to push himself further and harder inside her, before he released the other hand from hers to deliver a sharp slap on her left butt cheeks, softly at first, almost playfully, before he delivered another harder, sharper slap, enough to color her pale skin. Then releasing both hands suddenly, Rosie instead found her hips being held in place now by his strong hands, his fingers digging eagerly, urgently into her skin.

And that was when he started to rock his body against hers, transiting from slow and hard to quick and fast very quickly as the passion seizes him. Even if the Enamorian could not see them in their throes of lust, he would be able to hear them between the smack of his yearning thrust against her behind and the grunt and moans of the Eunesian. A few hard claps against her other butt check, the sound seeming to spurn him on even more as he quickened his

It seemed these Secyclionian men liked it a lot dirtier and nastier than the mainlanders.

Alexandros would make sure she would finish first, his tongue licking at her neck and even sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her nape. Fingers once more reached for her red hair, his fingers curled up in a fist with a turn of his wrist to gather those red strands to pull her head back up once more, making sure she could feel every. Single. Inch. Of. Him.

He got there himself in a few more moments, finishing inside her as he panted against her right ear, his breath wet and hot in the tangles of her hair. A breathless laugh escaped his lips.

"Promise me we're going to do this again, kyria." He whispered breathlessly, he reached over, finally flipping her around before he kissed her. But instead of the warmth of his sizzling body that she had felt moments earlier while they embraced in post-coital glow, a sudden coldness swept through the boat, an almost unnatural chilliness in the air. The air stung the sweat off her body, the shivers she felt now not wrought out of pleasure, but a cold, rap sensation.

The Enamorian cries out, as though he had just saw something. Well technically, he may have seen many somethings from Rosie and Alexandros, but it was what he said next that made it very obvious he wasn't talking about them.

"Oh feth, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuck!"

This was probably a good thing, since Rosie did not seem like the cuddling type.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

The Secyclion obeyed her command and took control of her body. His fingers bit into her hips, positioning her how he wanted, and then he slipped inside. Pushing deep and slow at first, and then thrusting with such a relentless pace that Rosie had to grip the wheel tighter and shift her weight so that her knees wouldn’t buckle. He nibbled on her neck and she groaned at the mixture of pain and pleasure. As someone who lived her life on the edge, she appreciated this sort of manhandling. It was a reminder that she was alive and still able to find joy, despite the horrors she’d endured.

He yanked her hair back, turning her face towards his and she flicked her tongue out to caress the lines of his chiseled face with a smirk. His spanks further excited her, the skin of her ass blossoming a bright red beneath his palm. It didn’t take long for her to feel the pressure building within her, her insides quivering with anticipation. She could feel his cock stiffen impossibly harder with his own impending climax and it was enough to send her over the edge.

She cried out into the dark night, alerting the sea and the stars (and the Enamorian) to her euphoric delight. Alexandros held her tight against himself as he spilled his seed inside of her, their mingled moans becoming less frantic as they returned to their senses and vision became clear once again. He asked her for a promise that she was unwilling to give. Shaking her head as he turned her around and drew her in for a kiss. Rosie knew the dangers of sleeping with the same man more than once. That was how feelings grew and she had no interest in matters of the heart. At least that’s what she told herself in order to protect herself.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she lost herself in the kiss, allowing the unfamiliar feeling of belonging to wash over her, if only for a brief moment.

And then the air became cold. More so than a simple breeze. Goosebumps rose upon her skin and she stepped away from Alexandros to peer over the side of the boat. The Enamorian resumed his usual state of overreacting to things and Rosie beamed at the Secyclion as she grabbed her clothes from the deck and scrambled to put them back on. They were finally here!

Tugging her shirt over her head, she pushed a hand through her very obviously honey blonde hair. For the first time that day, she was unsure of what to do next. ”Full disclosure,” she said and affixed her whip and cutlass to either side of her hips. ”I have no idea what we’re doing here.” The excursion had been a whim, a flight of fancy. Now that they were there, she figured they’d just have to play it by ear. That usually worked out pretty well for her.

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

"Well, neither do I." Alexandros smirked, but it was clear that the post-coital bliss was already fading. The alcoholic haze too, had started to melt away, taking with it the courage that had brought them here at the first place, and the sounds of the sobbing Enamorian had snapped them back to this cold, frightening reality. For Alexandros, it was the tales of childhood, of a superstitious upbringing to have respect and reverence for the brings unknown by not courting these dangers.

He gripped his blade nervously and moved forward. Pride alone, mad him move one feet after another, rather than letting Rosie take the lead.

And as they moved forward, she could see... them.

Two phantom ships, flicking through the air in its pale, ghastly gray shadow. A boarding plank had been placed over their small fishing boat, and a man clad in old Imperial navy livery stood atop the plank, stepping onto their vessel. The Enamorian shrunk away from the phantom, his eyes full of fear. Alexandros, for his part, merely stood rooted to the ground, his lips parted slightly as he stared transfixed at the figure and the apparition behind him.

"Who goes there?" The figure wore a large bicorne with an emblem of the imperial warbird as its emblem. His ghastly face was half-rotted away, exposing part of his skull and empty socket. From the crevices, barnacles, mud and seaweed slide from his wet and decomposed face. He smelled terrible, like wet plague pits. He moved forward, step by step as wet sand dropped out of his wet knee-high boots.

His voice was like a cellophane whisper, with white noise of a dozen different screams in them. He narrowed his empty, hollow sockets towards Rosie, and then at Alexandros, then back at Rosie.

"Who dares to stir the shades of Admiral Crowham and disturb the rest of the crew of the A.E.S. Victoriam?"

Rosie, veteran of the seas would know of this ship of course. It was consecrated after the first victory against the Xetan invasion at Medonia, and had been presumed lost at seas shortly after her maiden voyage. They had said that the ship was overtaken by pirates, their crew brutally slaughtered, and others fed in pieces to Eunesian sharks. Other, more insidious legends, spoke of more venal crimes, of a ship that pilfered from the foreign settlements off the coasts of Trelore and had set sail for far away lands to live in wealth - desserters who took one of the greatest ships every built and turned into privateers.

Then there were others who claimed they had looted one wrong port too many and finally had a curse put on them by a Ciel magician to wander the seas forever, trapped in this plane even after death.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

Whatever thoughts Rosie may have had in regards to what she and Alexandros had just done, fell to the wayside the moment two ghost ships surrounded them. Before any of the living people had a chance to react, a boarding plank crashed into the deck and one of the most frightening creatures she had ever seen stepped onboard.

She gazed up at him, eyes wide with wonder and terror. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest and she instinctively took a step back. Though, where her feet thought she could run, she didn’t know. They were sort of trapped now.

As horrifying as the ghost was, Rosie did her best to remain calm. He seemed reasonable enough, only wanting to know who dared disturb the slumber of his crew. To be quite honest, if Rosie was the captain of a ghost ship, she’d be pretty upset about adventurers treading into her waters, too. She couldn’t blame him for being angry about being stuck there. Nor could she fault him for his gruesome appearance; some things just couldn’t be helped.

”Admiral Kyrillos, sir,” she said with a half-hearted salute, two fingers tipped at the side of her brow. The one detail about this guy that annoyed her was his status as an Imperial. Anyone who pledged allegiance to the Empire began with low esteem in her book. Then again, he and his crew had died for the Empire and where had that gotten them? Other than stuck in the material plane, doomed to roam the ocean until the end of time? That meant there was still hope.

If she could get him to realize that the Empire had abandoned them (which, obviously it had, otherwise someone would have cared that they were still around and not resting peacefully in the afterlife), then perhaps she could earn herself a pair of ghost ships. Probably not the greatest idea, but Rosie was a glutton for new boats, always on the lookout. Besides, what else did they have going on? Why not team up with her and “live” to fight another day? Only this time, they’d have the added pleasure of her command. The life of a pirate in Rosie’s fleet was much more fun than that of an Imperial sailor. Or, she assumed, a ghost.

If the rumors about this crew were true, perhaps they would be amenable to an alliance, if it meant they could resume what they’d begun near the end of their lives. It was worth a shot at least. Rosie always preferred the diplomatic approach first (though her idea of diplomacy was much different than most, more antagonistic and sarcastic than anything). Plus, they were ridiculously outnumbered here. She had to do her best to stay on the ghosts’ good side.

”We heard reports of ghost ships out here, kidnapping people and sinking ships. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?” She smiled and shook her head, clucking her tongue as if chiding a child. ”What would your Empress say if she could see you now, monsieur fantôme amiral?”

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

"Kyrillos? I do not recognize this... name." The creature was confused, as he hesitated. However her next line seemed to elicit somewhat of a more negative reaction as he hissed, frothing at his lips like crabs out of the water. One water-logged boots stepped forward, landing heavily with wet sounds as he moved, though not a single footprint appeared on the deck of their boat.

"Feth your Empress, and I hate Jaedaxiennes." One hand reached forward and held her neck, lifting her off the ground as he brought her to eye level. Up close, his smell was even worse, and his half-decomposing hands was so icy cold that it burned its marks into her throat. Bits of tiny crustaseans crawled in and out of his rotting flesh as slivers of sea worms slithered deeper into the many sockets left by the exposed bone.

That seemed to spur Alexandros on as he shouted out. "Oi, take your slimy hands off her, you offal."

The Secyclionian stepping in, striking a blow at the Admiral Crowham's arm, almost slicing parts of Rosie off as she felt the -whoosh- of his blade coming dangerously close to her nose. The sharp edge of the blade cut through, no- went through the ghost admiral as he blinked that one good eye of his, smirked and then with his other arm, sucker-punched the muscular islander on the nose, breaking it as it bled.

Alexandros went down holding his nose as he groaned in pain. "Not cool man, not the fething nose."

"Oh God, oh no please! No!!!" The unknown Enamorian shrank back in fear as he watched the writhing figure of the Eunesian, but doing nothing to to help him as he pushed himself further and further away from the spiritual encounter.

More phantoms crossing the plank to board their ship, some of them bearing one limb, some without a head, some holding their head in their hands as they surrounded the living trio of mortals. The Enamorian spoke again.

"I fulfilled my promise by bringing others, now can you let my crew go now?" That snake. It would appear that Rosie had unwittingly walked into a trap, spun by man and ghost.

It was a good thing Rosie preferred the diplomatic approach, because it did not seem as though they could fight their way out of this.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

Rosie wasn’t surprised that the ghost admiral didn’t recognize her name. She was more infamous than anything; and, back when these guys had been alive, she’d only been a first mate on a legitimate merchant ship: definitely not a household name. Still, it was a little annoying to not have her stellar reputation precede her. Something she’d have to work on so that the next deceased Imperials she came across would give her the respect she obviously deserved.

He lifted her from the deck with a disgusting grip on her neck, saying some truly terrible things about Jaedaxians. Rosie clawed at his hands, struggling to gasp for air, and finding it pretty difficult to get a hold of him. What few breaths she was able to manage, she regretted. Crowham’s stench filled her nostrils and made her stomach churn.

Alexandros didn’t have much better luck. Rather than relieving the ghost admiral of his appendage, the Secyclion’s sword nearly took off Rosie’s nose and earned himself a punch in the face. Her lips curved into a frown. It didn’t seem fair that Crowham could touch them but they couldn’t return the favor.

More spirits crossed onto the small fishing vessel and it became apparent that the Enamorian had lured them there in exchange for his crew. It was a tactic that Rosie would have utilized in a heartbeat for her own men, so she couldn’t be too angry at the guy.

”You fish kissing, scurvy ridden, sea bass!” she shouted at him through labored breaths. Even if she could relate to his motives, that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. ”I’ll sink your ship myself!” Or, more likely, she’d steal it from him and force him to work for her.

After she dealt with Crowham and his crew first.

Turning her attention back to the more important matters, she was at a loss. For once.

”Not my Empress,” she muttered. At least the two of them agreed on that particular subject. ”Hating Jaedaxians is a character flaw that I’m ill-equipped to help with. Just know that you are, and shall always be, wrong.” Rosie’s diplomacy was an acquired taste.

”So what’s the play? Conscription for me and Alexandros here? Doom yourselves to an eternity of dealing with my loud mouth and snark?” As much as she had to live for, she wasn’t exactly scared of dying. At least not at the moment. That would quickly change the closer she got to it though.

”I’ll tell you right now that if you kill either of us, I’ll spend eternity making you regret it.” She looked over at Crowham’s crew and smiled. ”I’ll lead a mutiny and take your admiral’s hat within a year.” Easy peasy.

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

"Double-crosser."

A gurgling sound escaped the throat of the admiral turned his head at the Enamorian. It was hard to tell if the creature was pleased, or otherwise, tiny little sea mites seeming to cover his half-rotting skull now. He only half craned his head towards the rest of his crew, as though he wanted their opinion.

"Kill the double-crosser." One of them hissed back. A cacophony of ghostly sounds agreeing.

"Yes." The admiral murmured in a strange-far away tone, as though in a trance. Without warning, one of his crew, a tall, slender creature showcasing yellowed, seaweed stained bones plunged a cutlass into the Enamorian's body. Not a sound was made as Alexandros seemed utterly rooted by the complete violence that had just taken place. At the very least, he didn't scream.

The Enamorian's body was the unceremoniously tossed into the seas, sinking through the waters for the critters to be had.

As for the rest of Rosie's protest? The admiral seemed unmoved, or that he didn't understand. After all, those damed to be tethered to the material plane often held part of the aspect that made them, them. These creatures were not fully sapient, and thus could be manipulated. It was how adjurators made these restless souls do their bidding, after all.

"The debt must be paid." The admiral murmured, a mouthful of salt water with sand bubbling through his mouth, falling over his body like silt, his grip on her neck tightened every so slightly, squeezing the last bit of air out of her throat. It seemed, if anything, Rosie had simply ended up antagonizing the spirit of the ex-Imperial more than anything.

"The debt must be paid." The rest of his crew agreed. In front of her, the two Imperial-class ships continued to shimmer, as though it was the light of the moons that fed its very essence. A dozen pair of soulless eyes watched from the galleys, other trapped souls haled away by the

"Our debt must be paid." Admiral Crowham echoed again. It seemed he had no desire to parley with this one, perhaps more familiar with begging from his would be victims, rather than just affront. Either that, or he simply did not care what she had to say.

"Cut her tongue first, she talks too much." Admiral Crowham tossed Rosie onto the deck roughly as he stepped back onto the gangplank. His crew, each one nastier looking than the other closed around them in a tight circle as one of them pulled out a short dagger, a weapon quite suitable for cutting the organ out of one's mouth.

It was only then when Rosie would notice the glimmer of metal partially submerged in decomposing mud. A metal pin carrying the insignia of the Third Empire under the reign of Empress Alyssa Chrysiniara. Something that had slid off the Admiral's decomposing flesh. It was barely within reach of the Jaedaxienne, and the other ghosts were closing in on them.

"Bind him!" Alexandros too, seemed to have caught the shimmer, his eyes widening in fear as his eyes centered on the bauble.

 

[Rosie Kyrillos-Thorne]

It would seem that Rosie and Crowham were slightly on the same page in regards to double crossers. Even though Rosie understood why the Enamorian had done what he did, she completely agreed that he deserved to be punished for it. It wasn’t a happy situation, but here they were. Actions had consequences and all that.

The crying man’s body was flung over the side, never to be seen again (or at least never to be seen alive again, Rosie wasn’t too sure about the rules surrounding becoming a ghost, so it was entirely possible that he’d make an undead come back sometime in the future).

She then went on a long rant about how much Crowham would regret hurting her or Alexandros. All bluster and no substance, but then, wasn’t that what negotiating was all about? Just insulting and threatening the other person until they gave you what you wanted? It was in Rosie’s experience. However, it didn’t seem to be working on this particular target.

They all started chanting about some debt they had to pay. Crowham’s fingers flexed, cutting off the last of Rosie’s air and leaving her unable to issue any other demands. Legs dangling in the air, she did her best to try and free herself. It was futile and her vision began to darken at the edges.

Just as she was about to pass out, he dropped her onto the deck. Rosie wheezed and coughed, lungs burning and eyes watering as she tried to gather her senses. The order to cut out her tongue shouldn’t have come as a surprise. This wasn’t the first time a magical sea creature tried to liberate the world from having to endure Rosie’s nonsense. Her voice was the subject of a curse already put on her. She briefly wondered if losing her tongue would trigger that curse too and if she would be doubly damned.

Not if she could help it.

Crowham stepped out of the way of his men while they encircled Rosie and Alexandros. ”Wait!” she managed to squeak out, holding up a useless hand as if that would stop any of this.

It was then that she noticed the shining metallic object in a clump of rotten mud and flesh. Now wasn’t really the time to go treasure hunting, but seeing as how this might be her last chance at it, she somersaulted across the deck to retrieve it.

Alexandros shouted something that she didn’t understand, but she figured it was worth a shot. Clasping the brooch in her hand, she yelled, ”I bind you?” For extra emphasis, she showed all the ghosts the thing in her hand, especially holding it out towards their admiral. ”Call off the goon squad and let's talk about this debt of yours.”

If that didn’t work, Rosie was prepared to jump off the ship and swim towards the shore. There would be no tongue cutting today!

 

[Roscarnis de Lylles]

The ghosts stared at her. She shouted some things. They continued to stare.

Nothing happened.

And then they laughed.

It wasn't a particularly pleasant sound. There was a white noise underneath that sizzling chortle of a hundred screams that gave hint that these were not at all benevolent spirits. A mixture of wet mud and seaweeds spilled from their mouths, their distorted jaws of flesh and bone that carried with it the choking breath of death itself.

"Kyria, really?" Alexandros' voice was incredulous, his shoulders slack as though defeated.

"That's not really how you bind a ghost." Spoken in a tone that suggested that he himself had no idea as well, how to exactly hold sway over these phantoms, but that what she did was certainly not the way. And even so, Alexandros' comment was not really useful at all. At least her antics seemed to have given the ghastly creatures cause to stop with the tongue separation.

That's if, she hasn't already jumped into the sea, leaving her Eunesian paramour to fend for himself.

The long dead admiral craned his head at her; there was certainly something strange in the way he spoke now, more cautious, thoughtful. Was it the badge she held in her hand? It was hard to tell, whatever flesh left on the Imperial's face gave little to form coherent expressions that could give any insight to what the creature was thinking, or if the bauble truly had the power for them to subdue him.

"On second thoughts, keep her tongue, she may yet fetch a price when we sell her as a jester to a nobleman's court. Should write off a good portion of our debt." Admiral Crowham snarked as he strode back to his own phantom ship, leaving his ghostly crew to capture the two mortals to be taken prisoner.

"Yes, our debt." The other crewmen intoned stonily, refocusing on their task at hand. A net was dragged across the deck of the fishing boat by one of them as they approached slowly, one step after another, not hurried at the very least. Death, after all, was a very permanent, unyielding thing, and nothing, hastened, or otherwise, was going to change that.

"Give it to me," The Secyclionian gestured for her to hand over the Imperial brooch, though it was clear that he had no idea what he was going to do as well.