Sicily had everything a pirate could possibly want. It was settled just enough that one could find partners to exchange news with and trade with without running into the law. But more importantly, it had a prime location. To the north of the Sicilian harbor was the Etruscan Leauge, the rising city of Rome, and other small time chiefdoms that dotted the boot-like peninsula. To the West were Carthage and the Phoenician settlements on Sardinia. To the East was the Greater Mediterranean.

Today they sailed east. Amentuankh had enjoyed his respite in alcohol, jewelry, and some of their captured girls but his business here was finished. Slaves and cargo had been sold to merchants who didn't ask where such things came from, the crew was rested, and the more mundane supplies restocked. Each and every day the Egyptian stayed in this haven was a day where he wasn't making money. Sure, he worked under the Greek bastard Alkestis who technically owned the ship, but aside from a share in the profits the self styled 'King of the Sea' didn't ask for much.

Returning to the galley to Amentuankh was like returning to home. Unlike some of the larger warships some maritime states could afford, the galley he worked with only had a single sail and a one and a half rows of oars partially recessed into the deck. The ship was light, though, and more importantly fast. Looking around, he noticed most of the crew had already returned aboard - though a brief look to his right showed the face of one of the prettier crew members - for a second, Amen tried to remember his name. Looked a little roman, though some features reminded Amen of his homeland ... If he was like some of the more greek members of the crew he might make an offer. They'd practically jumped to join the pirate crew during their last fight on the sea ... and decent with a sword the time he'd fought almost immediately afterwards. Or enthusiastic, at least.

Oh right, Rys. "Rys! Enjoy your stay here? Ready to set out on the sea once again?" The well jeweled 'captain' slapped his arm around the man's shoulder, rings briefly grasping the mans bone briefly and somewhat affectionately - or domineeringly, depending on who you asked. "Or are you already missing home?"

Ryssa sighed as she walked through the throng of people, irritated at the two facts that were plaguing her. One, they still were not even close to Egypt her mother's home and the land she longed to return to. For while she had grown up in Rome and learn the tongue of the people there, her mother had despised the city and it's people. Though it was not fault of hers. Bet'anya had not come to Rome willingly. Rather she had been sent there as part of a marriage deal that had fallen apart and left the young woman a widow on the streets. Ryssa's birth had come not long after and the girl had spent her life being taught by her mother how to not be the gender she was or how to manipulate men. But that led her to the second reason she was irritated.

The loud and overly elaborate captain slapped an arm around Ryssa's shoulders. The woman was decently taller than most of her gender and her build was a good deal more athletic. Sliding out from under the arm, before the captain got any ideas the supposed 'man' gave a blank look at the leader of the pirates. Dressed in breeches made of a wrap around, and the same for her upperhalf. There were enough layers of bindings to hide the obvious and enough layers over that to hide the bindings. With slightly higher collar on her makeshift hood, and her lean features. Her face was rather asexual. Neither looking like a man's nor woman's. Her silvery hair had gone grey at a young age. Most likely due to the stress of life, though others had called it a curse and shoved her from their presence. Letting it fall wild and long about her, she looked like a half mad individual but few came near.

Few, sadly, not including the captain who was so jovial. "Home is sand." Rys the bloodthirsty marauder grunted in a monotone voice. Hoping her thin shoulders had not been noticed. Or if they had, he would merely be listed off as fragile or younger than he appeared. Which slightly worked. Rys had killed a man when he first came aboard, the bastard having caught sight of the woman's little truth. Rys had played it off as her own bloodthirsty nature, but it had been to close. So the lass had taken to clostier herself in shadowy parts of the ship when she wasn't needed elsewhere.

Still not receptive to joking or messing around? The captain decided to deal with the problem in front of him before the pair returned to the ship.

Backing off to a short distance, the captain gave a slight smirk for a couple of seconds before rolling his eyes at the newest member of his crew. Amentuankh assumed the most bland, tough guy, monotone grunting voice he could manage. "I'm new crew member. I lurk in dark corner. Broody and bloodthirsty. I never discuss past. I don't talk to fellow crew, I simply glare angrily at sea."

His mocking finished, Amen gave Rys a slightly more genuine and helpful smile along with a small pat on the shoulder. "Look, kid. Listen up cause I'm not saying it again. We're all glad ya don't whine and bitch, certainly. But while being tough might get some respect, sure ... but being likable will keep ya alive. The guy you stabbed? Carpus? Tough as bronze, sure ... but he had the charisma of a dying slug, and look at how enthusiastic we were to avenge him."

The galley and other crew members were upon them now, so the conversation was wrapped up. It was all Amen had to discuss anyways - it only seemed responsible to give advice to the newer crew members, but they weren't babies. Rys would learn or die. "Hey, Epizelos! Slaves finished loading the cargo?"

A middle aged man worn by many years at the sea didn't even bother to look in Amen's direction, instead responding as he worked on double checking the inventory. "Course, Amentuankh. We said eastwards again ...?" As Amen approached, the pair entered into a more quiet conversation over a small map as some of the slaves and crew finished those final preparations.

Rys would find themselves on the deck of the galley, with most of the slaves chained in place by the oars and the vast majority of the cargo loaded in. Near the back of the ship Amen was in conversation with the older Epizelos as they looked over the map. A younger crewmember - maybe sixteen at most - was helping prepare the sails he climbed up the mast with his lighter body. If Rys had bothered to pay attention, she'd possibly recognize him as Ahirom, a Phoenician.

At the front of the ship were three pirates in their twenties and thirties - some of the more warrior like ones based on what Rys had likely seen. Sidon was a pretty Phoenician in his mid twenties, bragging to his older brother Balthasar (whos most notable characteristic was the long scar going down his right arm) and Neriad a deadly spear wielder from the kingdom of Judea - who most notably worshiped a strange god periodically. Although there wasn't a lot of room on a ship for privacy, to the right of their discussion was a nice spot where the side of the ship lent a bit of shade where one could take a nap. What would Rys do?

Ryssa gapped at Amentuankh's mockery of her. It wasn't that he was wrong, or that it was bad advice. But rather she was fighting back the heating of her cheeks at the irritation of being so shamed. "I'd discuss my past, but I don't have much of one." The 'man' muttered in disgust as Amen moved off to join the older Epizelos. Rubbing her shoulder, and Ryssa noted Ahirom monkeying up and down the mast to prepare the sails. As much as she would wish to help the pale figure was certain she'd only make a fool of herself or reveal herself as a woman. Both were problematic. A sly look at Neriad and the brothers only urged her towards the mast to try her hand at helping. Better the mast than to get a lot of warriors insistent at dragging her out to drink. Something that would only make keeping her secret harder.

Moving towards the mast, the supposed man eyed how Ahirom was climbing. It looked doable with her own lithe form. Keeping a ear on the conversations she could possibly catch, the woman in disguise clambered up the mast. Copying Ahirom's movements as she observed him, trying to aid him best she could. Often keeping one hand to catch herself, making her slower at the tasks though no less proficient. Amentuankh was a decent person for a pirate 'captain'. He kept gold flowing and gave sound advice. But it was irritating at how close he kept getting! More than irritating it was dangerous!

Ahirom slid down the mast slightly in surprise as he noticed someone coming up to help him. The older ... Rys, right? The one who had killed Carpus? Honestly Ahirom had never been a big fan of Carpus so it wasn't too much of a loss, though he was still shocked to see the seemingly bloodthirsty sailor offer him a hand. "T-thanks!" Ahirom let out in the cheerful - slightly higher pitch voice of a young man still growing somewhat into adulthood.

Looking at the work he was doing, Ahirom realized he was the more senior between them when it came to this sort of work. "Pull on that rope when I do - one, two, three ..." Overall Ahirom was polite though efficient as he gave Rys directions on how to help him when it seemed they were confused.

From the short mast Rys would be able to hear some of the details of the conversation between Amen and Epizelos. "So if the Lycian coast is that badly inhabited, we could end up as a target as well ...." The conversation quieted for a few lines. "... if your contact says they'll be sending those good to Crete, though, I'm inclined to believe them. That's a lot more profitable than robbing grain from Egypt, for sure." The two seemed to have come to a decision, and now were speaking quietly over the details.

Eventually the work Ahirom did was finished, and he dropped to the deck and quickly hurried over to Amen, who dismissed him briefly we a smile. "We sail East! Sidon, get them to work the oars for long distance travel. If we are lucky, we'll hit a target away from the coastline!" Some of the slaves shackled to the oars let out sighs of relief as they wouldn't be ordered to exhaust themselves, though any further commentary quickly silenced itself. After all, slaves who served well had freedom dangling in front of them after about a half-year of service.

Ahirom hurried back over to Rys, putting his hand awkwardly on the back of his head. "Hey, um, thanks. Guess I owe you one."

Rys followed Ahirom's instructions, finding the task harder than one would expect. Though her ear turned towards the deck and snippets of conversation that was coming from the captain and the older man. Her frustration grew at the words she was hearing. Damn them! Egypt was her destination and every voyage she spent with these pirates was putting her into more and more danger. Crete was south slightly, but it was not south enough. Sliding down the mast after the work was finished the deck felt oddly comforting beneath her feet. As comforting as the sway of the ocean could be.

Listening to the slaves about her sigh with relief that they would not have to push themselves so hard for the current time, Rys had to agree. Their lives were hard, but Rome's outlook on Amen's little 'service' would have called the pirate captain weak. It was one of the reasons Ryssa had turned to the ship. For all he was a pirate, he was a good pirate. Not good, but well funded and reasonable for his ilk. Looking to Ahirom as the boy who was far closer to her own age than the men about her, she gave a nonchalant shrug. "I do not like to sit about idle and I am eager to be gone from this port." And eager to return to her mother's people. For while she had been born and raised in Rome, she had learned Egyptian ways first. Perching in the shade of one of the crates, Rys pulled up her hood against the spray of the salt as to not get the irritating in her eyes as she kept a keen eye on the waves. Her ears sharp as she listened to the goings on about the ship. "Where do we head now?"

The teenager looked at his strange new companion as they set off, trying to remember for a moment what had been said to him. "We head to the isle of Crete - he mentioned something about a shipment of fine pottery from Carthage." Ahirom paused for moment. "An if there's pottery, there's also things inside the pottery. No point in just transporting a pot. Some prefer to have their wares a little tested."

The boy shrugged after a moment. "It's not exactly the most lucrative of ventures, but with a few new crew members ... and non members aboard he'd prefer to take something a bit of an easier target. And besides, the boat itself will be worth something along with whatever crew we can sell. Although I think he has different plans, something about taking over a small town for a bit ..."

He shrugged. "... but anyways, Epizilos is the mastermind behind all of this. The brothers and the weird guy are muscle. And me and you? We are the quick ones." Despite thinking Rys was tougher than he was, it wasn't hard to tell that they were the two youngest members of the actual crew. The teen gave his companion a slight punch on the shoulder to show their camaraderie before looking around. "Also, if ya want, I can ask the captain if we can drink some of the booze. Y'know. Before he drinks all the good stuff as usual."

Ryssa blinked in shock. Pirates going after pots? Fine pots, sure. But at they end of the day they were chasing down pots. Her lips twitched as she fought back the tickle in the back of her throat, knowing she wouldn't be able to hid a silver laugh as a man. Coughing violently, the 'man' rolled a shoulder, working out a kink in muscles that were not used to clambering about a ship's mast. Though this news about taking a small town was worrisome. "No booze." Rys said though not unkindly. She dared not get drunk as she had no tolerance for the wine.

"What is this about taking over a small town? How would that work?" The newest member of the crew frowned as they fixed a tie on their sandal that held the rags tight to their feet. Making them look larger than they actually were. Her mother had warned her that feet and hands were easy to give her away as what she was. Though she could do little about her hands aside keep them busy and play off as a dainty lad, she could and did wrap her feet to mask that fact. If they were taking over a small town and sticking about there, Ryssa would need to find another ship that was heading south, to Egypt. She wasn't about to risk everything because the idiot captain thought a small respite in a town was a good idea. It was something that could get her found out or killed.

The young man seemed a little disappointed as his offer to share a drink was turned down, though was a little surprised as Rys seemed to know very little about how pirates tended to operate. "Yeah, we're tougher than most villagers, so you find a small hamlet or villa - we'd outnumber and be stronger than their guards, so we raid the village together ... y'know. Steal their supplies to keep expenses low, take their tougher men as slaves to work on our galley or be sold elsewhere, take some cute girls for the trip and sell them on the market ..." The man's face flushed a bit, making it clear that he had in fact very little experience especially with the final part of his statement. "It's also not a bad way to gather news and access a new market. We'll just stay for a couple days and leave before a more organized force finds it's way to us. We'll probably start heading south afterwards."

The kid blinked a couple times. "It'll probably be pretty easy, really. Most peasants aren't too keen on dying."

So they meant to take over a small area that wasn't heavily guarded. Perhaps if they did that near Egypt, Ryssa would have her chance to slip away. It was as good an idea as any. Her eyes grew sharp at the mention of 'cute girls'. Oh, these fools. One was among them and if she played her cards right they would have no idea that she was there. A blessing for her, a curse for any other woman who crossed paths with these men. But the world was a harsh place, a fact that Ryssa had learned early on. The strong survived and the weak died. Picking at the wood of the deck the supposed man mussed in thought.

"No one is keen on dying except the cursed or desperate and even then death isn't a common want." Rys stated in a harsh voice, though he shrugged absently. A slight smirk of a smile forming on lips the sea had roughed from their original delicate shape. "Though if you are so eager for women, surprised you haven't tried to attract the sirens of the sea. There are probably a few who would oblige you." For a fee however, nothing in this world was easy and nothing was free. The price to Egypt seemed to be costing Ryssa her nerves and reasonable people around her.

The boy blushed slightly as Rys mentioned the sirens of the sea. "H-hey! I-I'm fine with normal women. T-that's all." He turned away awkwardly, looking around. "Um, yeah. So uhhhh, thanks for the help with the mast and all." The sixteen year old walked away, looking around and sitting in a shaded part of the galley.

The other members of the crew were still up to the same activities - would Ryssa talk with them or settle down for the trip?

Ryssa leaned back in the shade. While she wasn't keen on approaching the fighters and less fond of approaching the captain. Listeing to the ebb and crash of the waves and swells of the ocean. She closed her blue eyes to slits. Looking peaceful for once, as she listened to the chatter of the ship. Gossip would tell her more than approaching the others. That and she was rather edgy about approaching the fighters. The boy was easy to fool. Harmless to fight. The rest of the crew? Not so much.

Ultimately Ryssa wouldn't get to listen to much - it wasn't long before the conversation broke up on it's own as Amen began to sail the ship towards his desired location. The waves splashed against the hull of the ship, and it probably wouldn't be long before a couple of the other crew members decided that sleep was the next best option. A canopies that would be burdensome in combat were raised over portions of the ship to provide shade as they continued in their journey.

Amen personally had noticed that Rys had helped the boy set the sails and talked with him - even briefly - and made note of it. He was glad to see that this crew member wasn't intending on playing the 'strong, silent' type forever. As the midday headed into the night, the group made camp on a shore of the southern italic peninsula, far from any civilization.

---

The crew found themselves surrounding the fire, regaling old tales of fights and raids they had been on - when the strange fighter from Judea approached Rys carrying two long sticks. Neriad tossed one of the sticks over - it could be the length of a sword - and it was obvious that he wanted to spar as he backed away from the fire and took up a strong sword stance. The two brothers snickered a bit expectantly at the two of them, while Amen just rolled his eyes.

"Well, go on." Amen looked at Rys before turning his gaze towards Neriad. "I don't want any bodies, alright?" If Rys stood up to fight Neriad with the stick, she'd notice that he was waiting patiently for the woman to make the first move, his entire body loose and ready to pounce.

Ryssa was considering slipping off to find a shadowy spot to doze, for she slept lightly, when Neriad approached her. Shape blue eyes watch the stick sail her way as a hand caught it easily. As the man backed off and took a stance for fighting with the damnable captain noting he'd rather neither of them died, Ryssa was tempted to bonk him on the head with the stick. With a reluctant sigh, 'he' uncooked from the sand and dusted the sparse grains from his hands with a finance at the warrior who was asking for a fight. Idiot.

Tempting as it was to wait him out, which was something she could do as Ryssa was a very patient person, it wasn't in the best interest if she wanted the rest if the group to leave her alone. She could already hear the damned captain's mocking voice as he accused her, or rather Rys, of being a moody sore spot. Not that she wasnt... But he did not need to put it like that! Shifting her stance, the supposed man didn't bother with taunts or games. Rushing Neriad as their stick came up to strike at the foreigner's middle area. Ready to whirl the stick up to block the return blow, the whirl back with a hand freeing itself to throw sand into the man's face. Rys didn't fight fair or for fun. He fought to survive and reach Egypt after all.

Neriad managed to use a soft block to parry the incoming strike along with maneuvering to the right simultaneously to give him a better position before swinging his stick down to hit Rys. The disguised girl likely wouldn't have a problem blocking the first blow, but the second one would have gotten her if sand hadn't sprayed into the man's eyes it would have been over. Instead, the man jumped back instinctively and started to wipe his eyes, listening intently.

Ryssa felt a fierce glee as Neriad was forced to block and then blinded as her ploy worked. Moving quickly, for speed was her best weapon when a man like this one had the weight and strength. The sand shifted under her shod feet as she moved, for better or worse sand cushioned noise if one was not listening for it. But if one was of a very keen ear it was easy enough to pick out. So Ryssa moved all the quicker, her staff whirling to strike the points where muscles joined with joints on Neriad's body. Namely the knees and elbows. Had the warrior, Rhys, been trying to kill the fellow pirate, he would have gone for the head or neck. A good jab right in the throat would have bought even more time for damage to be dealt.

Rys would probably be caught off guard - as she began to swing, she'd find her first blow countered. Whether it was luck or due to the predictability of the girl's movements, it was hard to tell. The man stepped inward towards her attack, slamming his body into her own as he finished wiping the sand from his eyes, likely making it difficult for the girl to have the remainder of her swings be delivered with any sense of grace or balance.

The older man grinned at the Roman, raising an eyebrow. "Oldest trick in the book for a novice fighter. But you won't be finding sand on a ship." He smirked a bit, clearly enjoying this more than a bit. The man finished his speech with a feint towards the head and then a swipe towards the shin. It was rather apparent the man was a skilled, seasoned fighter.

As for the other pirates, a few cheers were elicited. "Dethrone him Rys!" "Kick his ass!"

Wincing as the sticks crashed together, jarring her slight form. Stepping back Rys bared 'his' teeth at the foreigner. Taking a second step away, Rys regained her balance as she ducked the blow towards her head. A easy thing to do, as the head was a small target. But a strike there would be incredibly effective. All of which Neriad most likely as knew as an experienced fighter. Not bothering on a reply and wasting breathe. Or risk revealing too much.

Deflecting the blow to her shin, the disguised woman feinted towards the older warrior's head namely the throat, moving her 'staff' aiming a strike for Neriad's armpit. Pain would drive this one out of the fight. The cheers only annoying her as she fought. She didn't want attention, to be noticed. The man she was dueling was riling her anger at the risk he was forcing upon her. Her staff whirled for a second blow into Neriad's wrist.

Rys was naturally skilled - Neriad had to give them that. However, there were only some things professional training a years of experience could teach a warrior. The shot to the armpit was blocked with a little difficulty, and the follow up would find itself swatted out of the way with little effort. The warrior proceeded to use his feet to maneuver himself to the girl's right before tapping them on the thigh - with some force, not enough to leave a bruise - clearly indicating that he was the winner.

"Good try - Sand was fun, but your footwork leaves a bit to be worked on."

As if nothing had happened, Neriad walked to return to the campfire where a series of disappointing and sympathetic looks traveled through the party. Amen had been wiser than to get his hopes up though - there was little that seemed to be able to overcome this professional warrior.

"Nice try."

Rys gave a snarl as Neriad smacked his thigh with the damned staff. The lad disliked looking on a good day in Rome, but this was worse to Rys's point of view. But he quelled the irritation. It wouldn't do to have the men see her like this. Tossing the wooden staff to the side, the woman disgusted as a man moved to sit half in shadow. Hoping it would just be taken as her sulking. Which was true.

Nodding slightly at Amen's offer of "Nice try." Thus shrugged as if to say it wasn't much either winning or the looking. "I am not one for staves." The young Rys admitted in a gruff voice.