Rohaan scrubbed at his eyes and gave one final spit before he opened them and looked up at Hana, who had clearly given up the gentle coaxing strategy. If Berlin had been paying attention, he would have been proud of that. The lad often needed a little force to keep in line. The boy glowered up at her, and considering he was already somewhat soapy, he snatched up the bar and, grumbling, scrubbed. For all his dawdling in the bath, he made quick work of it--the sooner over, the better. When he'd rinsed, he shot out of the tub and proceeded to toss his clothes in for a scrub. When those had been sufficiently wrung dry and hung over the lip of an empty barrel to dry in the sun, Rohaan shamelessly streaked down to the crew quarters and found his spare pair of pants. They were a more fitted cut but were too big for him by a little bit, so he cinched them around his waist with an old piece of rope tied in a square knot that would have made Pieter proud. He didn't have a spare shirt, as the one that wasn't currently hanging to dry had previously been lit on fire.

Rohaan found Hana again and was about to ask her about this linament he'd so dutifully bathed for when he caught sight of Berlin. He'd spent a lot of time relying on visual cues rather than verbal ones, so he was fairly perceptive of those things for a ten year old. And he knew his captain. He didn't know what it was exactly, but something had happened.

--

Berlin turned sharply, suddenly alert. He assumed it was another vessel, and as magically gifted pirates they really had little to fear out on the high seas. The captain considered merchant ships to be opportunities and naval ships to be a nuisance at worst. So it was with an intrigued expression that he pulled out his spyglass from a pouch at his belt and squinted through it to peer at the faint dark shape Pieter had indicated. The little smirk he had melted away almost immediately. For a while he was silent, but whatever he was seeing was clearly not at all what he expected and not at all comforting.

Then in typical Berlin fashion, he calmly handed the spyglass over to Pieter and said, "Priest...mind telling me what I'm looking at?" He assumed that if it wasn't a vessel, then it had to be something of The Salt, and he guessed and hoped that Pieter would have some idea of what exactly he was looking at. "Is...that...something in your jurisdiction? Or is that something else entirely?"

--

Uban plunked down hard in a seat with a tin mug of rum with a wedge of lime floating in it. As soon as he sat, he realized that it would be some time before he was willing to get up again; the high of his power was fading already and it left him feeling absolutely exhausted. For once, Uban was actually quiet as he drank, and by the time he got to the bottom of the cup he was beginning to nod and more than once the cup almost fell out of his hands. "Damn..." he muttered, suddenly as groggy as if Berlin had just commanded him to sleep with his influential touch. But even he could see the dark shape out in the distance. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, but he assumed it was a ship and groaned. He even entertained the idea of getting up, but instead just leaned back with a sigh and said dismissively, "Eh. Just don't let 'em kill me, mate, yeah?"

Once Hana saw that the brat was cleaning himself, she stumped back to her seat and settled back with her book. She politely kept her gaze on her book when she heard him splash out and start cleaning his clothes. She'd done the same plenty of times on the road, and without the benefit of warm water. She was soon engrossed in her reading, and didn't notice anything was amiss until Rio stopped in front of her silent. She looked up to see his mouth slightly open and his attention fixed on Pieter and Berlin.

"Wha-" She said, "What's going on?"

---

Pieter chewed his lip and raised the spyglass to his eye. Before he looked through he knew something was amiss; he'd been addressed as Priest. Whatever was on the horizon was beyond the ken of a first mate, and that worried him.

His unsteady hands and the rocking of the Borealis made the small circle of vision of the spyglass veer wildly across the sky, and Pieter first saw nothing important. He removed the glass from his eye, wiped his palm down his trousers, spotted the dark shape on the horizon, and looked again.

It was... An eel? Or a snake. Flying. Were their wings? Yes, he saw the movement on the sides, with a rather concerning wingspan. It was at some distance, and the clouds obscured the long and sinuous creature from them. He'd never seen something quite like this. He'd been told dragons existed across the Eastern Ocean, but he'd never heard of one crossing the Ocean, going over Elbar and the rest of the continent to come here.
The clouds parted, and Pieter could see more. The dragon had the color of sallow skin, and was just smaller than the Borealis. It glided in wide circles, dipping low suddenly to surge back in altitude. Swinging the spyglass to follow the dragon, he saw the dragon plunge over a ship.

A galley.

The wind picked up, and Pieter thought he could hear the turtle's laugh in the snap of the sails.

They'd found the slavers.

A cloud of smoke lifted from the galley, and the dragon wheeled upwards.

The galley and dragon were moving in a diagonal line to the southwest of them, moving faster than what he thought reasonable. They were over open ocean. How could the Barizians take a galley across the ocean? There was no way they could carry enough food and water for the crews needed to make such distances. And to carry slaves as well?

He had no clue as to how often a dragon needed to feed. It was over the open ocean, and he didn't know if dragons ate fish.

He shook his head, handed back the telescope to Berlin, and said, "That's a damn strange scene, captain. There in the sky looks like a dragon," He pointed, "And it's hunting a slavers galley."

---

Wheel sucked on the lime, enjoying the sourness. He was pleasantly sore, and there was a looseness like he'd been massaged. Of course, while a berserker's definition of pleasant and sore were different than most people's The slight smile on his face was genuine. The curse had faded to a slight buzz and filled him with good cheer. He rolled a cigarette while he drank, and broke the silence with the occasional unhurried remark. Uban's oath made him look up, and he scanned the horizon until he saw what was going on. It was some distance away, "We could meet them in an hour and a half, two hours," He stood up, lighting his cigarette, "Sit easy, I'll find out what the plan is."

Rohaan just sort of shook his head and gave a distracted shrug. "Dunno...but I know whenever Berlin stands like an admiral instead of a pirate, somethin's up. Somethin' bigger than just another ship 'cause we just burn those." He said this casually. What else would one do with another ship? "Maybe...I think your lin...ment is gonna have to wait." The boy didn't move yet, but he didn't relax either and stood at the ready for whatever his Captain ordered. The command came even sooner than he thought.

--

Berlin waited in suspense as Pieter looked out at the anomaly on the horizon, and though he wouldn't have guessed it himself, Pieter's answer somehow didn't surprise him. That shape would be a dragon, wouldn't it? But then...he'd never once seen a dragon in these parts that wasn't Rohaan. And especially not one on the ocean and not one that...big. He was used to cyradan, which were somewhat small as far as dragon species went, so maybe that wasn't unusual. He didn't know. Really, he didn't know much about dragons, but he knew who did.

"Rheoaan!" It was an order. The lad knew it and sprang from Hana's side as a bird and glided from the aftdeck to where Berlin stood, crossing the space in the same amount of time it would have taken him to just reach the stairs if he'd walked. The boy shifted back and landed with a couple steps to stop his momentum and stood alert at Berlin's side. To his surprise, Berlin knelt down to his level. "Drop this and I'll kill you, lad," he said in a soft tone, holding out the spyglass. When Rohaan blinked up at him in confusion, he explained, "There's that dark shape out there, see? Take a look and tell me what you can see."
"Me?"
"Aye. You happen to be our dragon expert."

Rohaan's eyes widened in recognition and he nodded, carefully taking the device and fitting into his eye. He had about as much trouble as Pieter keeping it steady, so Berlin put a gentle hand over his to offer a bit more stability. The man knew that when the boy scowled, he'd found his mark.
"It's them! It's the gal..gal..."
"Galley, lad. Aye. But the dragon. Is that a dragon?"
"Uhm...well it looks like one. But not one I ever seen. It's real big. Like way big. And kinda weird colored but I seen 'em in lotsa colors so I dunno. Can I go? I wanna see it." And more grimly he added, "And I want to get them."
"There's more than likely live slaves on that ship. Do you want to burn them alive?"
Rohaan looked a little stunned; he hadn't thought of that. "No."
"Then go look. Don't get in over your head. We'll be on them in maybe an hour and a half or something and we'll engage them properly then. Aye?"
"Aye."

The young shifter hopped up onto the gunnel and vaulted off it; the boy's shape disappeared behind the side of the ship and what came back up was a cyradan, bioluminescent red stripes pulsing and flashing as he pumped his wings for more speed and altitude. Berlin watched him go and desperately wished he could have ridden on Rohaan's back to see for himself, but the lad was sore already from training and he would be faster and more agile alone. So he watched the sleek dark shape soar off towards the distant one, and when the vokurian was too far to see with the naked eye he watched through the spyglass.

--

Uban was perhaps the only person on the ship not at all concerned. He was too exhausted for it. Sending Rohaan out to investigate something wasn't that unusual either, so he didn't give that much thought. He sucked at his lime as he squinted out to the horizon, seeing nothing in particular of note yet. But squinting brought his eyelids even closer together, and they closed. "Mm, right," he said to Wheel through a lime wedge. He forced his eyes back open. Come to think of it, something did seem a bit off. The way Berlin and Pieter were standing made him sure of that. Curious... Unbidden, the memory of the encounter with the turtle came to his drifting mind and he softly muttered the last thing the turtle had said to them, "Watch out for a rotting eel..."

Uban fell asleep with a lime still between his teeth and his chin on his chest as his tin mug finally clattered to the deck and rolled away.

Hana watched silently as the Rio-dragon lifted into the air and angled towards the approaching shapes on the horizon. She turned away when Wheel approached her, a twinkle in his eyes betraying his otherwise deadpan face. "What do you know about dragons?" He asked. She'd been asking herself the same question, "Honestly? Not much. I know that they live in the east, they know more than any single human could possibly know, and you can win their favor by fairly beating them in a game. Oh, and they're incredibly dangerous." He nodded, looking out on the horizon. "Can you think of any reason a dragon would be out this far at sea?" She shook her head, "I have no fucking clue." Surprised, Wheel let out a barking laugh.

"Alright, come with me, we're going to get the weapons out."

And Hana followed him down to the armory, trying to ignore the worry building in her breast.

---

Pieter heard the clatter of Uban's fallen mug. A smile briefly warmed his face when he looked at his resting apprentice. "The lad will be fine," He thought to himself, "An hour nap should put him back in service."
He took stock of the wind, and adjusted course. Thankfully, the wind was with them, and they'd be able to maneuver the Borealis with ease. Of course, a galley didn't rely on the wind, and he didn't know what to expect with a dragon. He waited for the boy to return.

---

Although nobody on the Borealis had a reference point for what a healthy dragon would have looked like, it's unlikely they would have described what was in the air above them. The eyes were a clouded milky white, and the membrane of it's wings were scarred and mottled like patchwork. The dragons great mouth hung open, and massive, yellowed fangs jutted out. Impossible to see from a distance, but those close enough would have been able to make out three figures atop the dragon. They clambered across the dragon, which seemed to either duly tolerate or ignore them. The figures were bundled in thick jackets and trousers to fight the chill, and one of them would peer over the side of the dragon to look at the galley below.

From such a distance, the sailors aboard the top deck of the galley were miniature, and it was easy to assume the danger they represented was as slight as their size. The faint crack of gunfire whenever the dragon ducked lower was very real, however.

The dragon and the galley were in a stalemate. The galley didn't have powerful enough guns to hit the dragon when it was at a distance, and the dragon and those atop it seemed reluctant to dive into the range of the slavers. It would have been a trivial matter for the dragon to drop a heavy rock on the ship and anyone unfortunate to be standing beneath, but nothing like that occurred.

By now, both the dragon and the galley had spotted the small ship approaching them. Neither of them changed course. The dragon lifted further into the sky, staying completely out of range of gunfire.

Clouds rolled across to the east, and the wind was stiff. The distances between the galley, the dragon, and the Borealis created a sensation of stillness. Nobody was moving, the sea and sky around them shrank.

Soon, the space between them would disappear completely, and it was anyone's guess to what would happen then.

Berlin felt his stomach twist. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good. He'd assumed that much even when he thought it was something of The Salt, but when Pieter was just about as lost as he was, a little worm of anxiety crawled into his chest and slowly made its home there. If any ship's crew was equipped to handle the unknown, they were. Together, they were a disturbingly powerful force, and yet... He put the spyglass to his eye again. Rohaan was very far out now, barely a flapping dark shape that seemed to eat the light around it instead of reflect it like most objects did. What had he just sent him to? Berlin trusted the lad to take care of himself most of the time but some part of him that he hesitantly thought of as fatherly always worried anyway.

He was going to fuss over the direction but Pieter had it handled. Damn, he hated waiting. Hana and Wheel had gone below to prepare weapons, which was good. They'd need that. Rohaan was out, Pieter was manning the wheel and...ah. Uban. Despite the tightness in his stomach he had to laugh a little. He hadn't been kidding when he said he'd crash. Berlin made a mental note of how long that had taken and how much effort had been exerted before he got to that point; it would be important to know in the future. Berlin stooped and picked up the mug, then plucked the wedge of lime from Uban's teeth with a chuckle, plunking it into the mug and setting them both aside.

The captain reached his hand out and placed it softly on Uban's shoulder. He did not stir. "Uban, mate..." Though the volume and tone of his voice was soft, there was something about it that gave it command. When he earned a soft grunt from Uban, he continued. "Get up Uban. Go down below and get yourself in bed for some proper rest. You earned it. I'll call you when I need you." The nine-fingered sailor made a noncommittal noise but his muscles moved and he stood, swaying a bit. Berlin walked with him, keeping his hand on the man's shoulder (it was easier if he had constant contact) and the still very much asleep Uban swayed and stumbled before him as obediently and unwillingly as someone held at knifepoint. Berlin had to hold the hammock steady in order to help maneuver Uban into it, but he succeeded and released his hold over him; Uban sighed sleepily and melted into the canvas.

Berlin was back up on deck in a moment. He was still very concerned about what was happening out there and productive distractions would only get him so far. He went out to the prow with his spyglass and squinted through it as best he could to keep eyes on the situation.

--

The photophores in Rohaan's black, scaly dragon skin pulsed their red, almost reflective light in a quick but steady rhythm as he pumped his wings. He could feel his blood was up, and despite knowing better, he wanted to tear that ship to pieces and burn it down, and personally chew (or just plain eat) any slaver that dared try to escape him. Berlin was right though. There were people on that ship that didn't deserve to die. People like him. But he would not let them get away while the Borealis caught up and he'd hunt them down all night if he had to.

As he drew closer, he could see that this dragon was indeed massive and far larger than him, though considering his species of choice that wasn't a surprise. Cyradan were neither large nor armored. This one wasn't extremely well armored as far as some dragons went--he'd seen some before that looked like living stones. Clearly the slaver's guns gave the thing some pause and even Rohaan shuddered at the sound of them, remembering all too keenly the very recent gunshot wound of his own. It had taken him out of the sky, but the sky was HIS. That anyone had the gall to remove him made his blood boil further.

Rohaan noticed there were people on the back of the dragon. Multiple people. He was trying to identify something about their clothing or colors or...anything really, but they weren't familiar to him. Well. There was no sense in being stealthy; it was time they knew he was here. Rohaan kept out of range of the gunshots, but he cried out with his dragon voice that was both shrieking high and rumbling low at once like two voices become one. He could not speak words, not in this form, but still he spoke in his own way.

I am here. And your hours are numbered.

He came in really close then. He did a swooping fly-by over the back of the large, pallid dragon, studying both it and the people riding it. Due to its size, he could dance circles around it. If it was a galleon, he was a schooner. He tucked his wings in an angled fold and dropped down to sweep under it, his black tail following his svelte body like liquid. Rohaan flapped a few times and then came back up above the dragon, circling overhead. He roared again, sort of testing the waters to see if either the dragon or its riders would acknowledge or engage him. Again he swooped low, then pivoted back up and circled it. He liked the idea that these people and this creature were obviously hunting the Barizians, but he wasn't sure that automatically made them allies, either. His captain needed to know.

Hana walked up the stairs, carrying a stack of muskets like firewood. Dropping the muskets onto a tarp tacked to the deck, she massaged the knot in her shoulders and looked around the Borealis.

Wheel was readying the guns Hana had brought up previously. Although he was busy cleaning and loading the muskets, there was a stillness that surrounded him, and Hana was reminded of the priests who dragged sticks in the sand, creating meaning out of the world around them. She had already reached the armory before she wondered what meaning a gun would bring.

---
Getting closer, Rio could see that the dragon was far from anything he'd seen before. A thick, waxy hide dully glinted in the sun. What had seemed like whiskers were arms. Human arms, all of the same size and shape, the same jaundiced yellow of the dragon. Some dangled limply, others held lines of rope or tack. The dragon flew dumbly, moving through the air than with it.

Tents were strapped to the back, along with cases of supplies. Wheel would have said it looked like a supply wagon far from home.

It was only after the small dragon screeched did the riders notice him. They were bundled in thick sheepskin to protect against the biting cold, but that didn't stop one of the riders from moving quickly. They surged across the back of the dragon, running while the dragon bobbed up and down in it's flight. They returned with a gun capable of killing an elephant. The rider didn't fire, but kept steady aim on the cyradan.

The galley let off a hail of gunfire when they saw the cyradan, and the oars began to beat faster. The crew below had a mercenary look to them. The ship might fly a Barizian flag, but the hired killers came from all over.

The dragon lifted in altitude, trying to lose the smaller dragon through height. The rider with the gun ran across the dragon and fell over the side. Swinging somehow beneath the belly of the dragon, the rider keeps their bead on Rio.

Rohaan heard the crack of gunshots that were now clearly aimed for him, though he was careful to stay out of their range. He burned with anger. How DARE they! They had hurt him twice now, and they deserved to die. Die slowly by his hands, or rather, his teeth. They did not deserve the quick death of severing, but drowning, burning, and being eaten alive. He would show them fear. He would show them fear like they had never felt before, and he vowed that they dared shed his blood again, it would burn them like acid in the end. He'd make sure of it.

Enraged but still remembering he was alone and outnumbered and that Berlin had instructed him not to fully engage, Rohaan sent a ball of fire streaming down towards the galley. It fizzled out some twenty feet over the sailor's heads, but that was enough for now. They just needed a reminder of what he was. What he could do. Muskets be damned, he'd have them by the end of the night. Somehow that didn't feel like enough though, so on an impulse and out of sheer spite, the dragon changed into a small bird in the blink of an eye, and as a much smaller target Rohaan swooped down in an irregular pattern towards the galley and swept past them as fast as his wings would take him. But as he did, his talons snatched one of the sailors' hats off his head. And in the space of a breath he was shooting back up into the sky towards the large dragon, now in his cyradan form. The hat was a nasty thing and he would likely burn it later, but for the moment it was his prize and it was also a metaphorical middle finger.

The dragon was a matter that confused him entirely, though. It smelled like death, and looked like it too. The part that stuck with him the most were the arms. Human arms that stuck out from the side of the thing like....like....he didn't know what. It would be of particular interest to Berlin, so he made sure to really take a good look at them even though something in him wanted to look away. It made him uncomfortable, the whole picture. And if he wasn't so fired up by the slavers below, he might have just done a quick flyby and returned to the Borealis. But he was feeling bold and determined and he would not be cowed so easily.

He was keenly aware of the dragon rider who leapt up at his approach and trained a gun on him, though the fact they did not fire gave him pause. He was in range and he was not a small target. Though he was small for a dragon, he was still a dragon. The rider could have shot at him. But they appeared to be waiting for something? That was his guess. Probably reading his intentions as much as he was reading theirs. Berlin would not have approved of his next thought, but Berlin wasn't here.

Following the dragon up higher into the sky, Rohaan kept his eyes on the rider with the gun. He roared at them once, a quick call, not a drawn out howl of battle and rage. The shifter took advantage of his superior speed and maneuverability to surge back up above the dragon, except this time instead of circling around or diving back down, the svelte black shape angled back a bit and with steady wingbeats he hovered just above the larger dragon's back, near the aft. And then, his form shifting into a man, he dropped and landed.

He did not revert to his natural state of a (now clean) pirate child of ten, but an older version of himself. He appeared to be about twenty now, with a very short but rather full beard the same blonde as his unevenly curly hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail like Berlin's. He was tall, fit, but had a distinctly 'travel stained' look about him. Calloused, worn, weathered, and hale. He called out in a voice that was both his and not his. It still had an accent that in these parts was unidentifiable, but it was a man's voice, not a boy's.

"That ship down there will burn tonight. What do you want with it? And who are you?"

---

Berlin still anxiously watched the horizon through his glass. There wasn't much he could do that far out--both Pieter and Wheel relied on being close by to attack, Berlin's greatest power was through touch, and Uban, who was still too far away to do anything, was open-mouthed snoring below deck. Hana was likely the only one who could do anything if something went horribly wrong out there, but he didn't know the range of her abilities either. So he watched.

The black shape swirled around the larger pale one, flitting in and out like an angry sparrow pecking away at an eagle. But then the black dragon hovered momentarily above the thing and was still, and then it was gone. Berlin knew it did not disappear, not truly, but he couldn't make out specific humanoid shapes from that distance, and so he could not be certain what happened to his shifter. Desperately, he looked to the space below the dragon, hoping he would not see a tiny speck falling from it. He didn't. That made him release a tightly held breath. But then the implication of that realization settled in, and his heart began to race again. If Rohaan did not fall, then he probably landed.

"SHIT. Rheoaan! Damn it!" Berlin whirled around, going right for Pieter. "Damn it, the boy landed. I can't fathom WHY, damn it, but he's decided to parley with whoever's riding that thing. Idiot. Bloody idiot. Remind me to slap that boy when I see him next!"

The fireball burned low over the heads of the Barizians, and the gunshots paused. The galley began to slowly alter it's course to run away from the Borealis, then fled as quickly as they could. They must have had another set of men to row the oars, because a normal crew would have been exhausted. The galley beat it's way south by southwest, running as fast as a sail ship sailing in the wind.

The dragon continued to beat it's great wings, and the rider holding the gun took a half step closer to Rio. She wasn't particularly tall, but the way she held herself with the control of a hunting beast. Her quilted jacket was buttoned against the cold, and her chin length blonde hair was covered with a leather cap. The tentacles grew from her upper back and latched onto the rough nubs of bone that protruded up and down the dragon.

Her eyes were the color of the sky on hanging day, a flinty blue grey that stared Rio down before she spoke. She lowered the gun so it wasn't pointing directly into Rio's face and called, "It seems we are not enemies, Shifter. Return to your ship, tell them to let the galley live for a while longer. We'll speak with you, stranger."

Two men watched the exchange, one fore and one aft. They were dressed like the woman in a quilted jacket and trousers, but were too far away for Rio to make out any detail.

There was a pause, and the only sound was the wind, tearing past the wings and ripping at the riders clothes. It made sense they dressed so warmly, being up this high got cold quickly.

---

Wheel lowered the cannon, taking aim against the galley. Firing, he watched the ball arc harmlessly into the water near where the ship had once been. Preparing the cannon again, he took mental note of the range, estimating how long until they would come into range. The Borealis was lucky and had the wind, they would soon be on the slavers. "Hana," he said, "Is there anything that we could use to hide or escape? If that dragon turns on us, I want you to be ready." He looked away before he saw Hana's nod, but he heard her descend to her room to gather supplies.

Rohaan couldn't figure out where these people were from, but he wasn't fully convinced they were human. One had...tentacles. Maybe he'd ask Pieter about it, he seemed to know about things with tentacles. At any rate, they knew what he was. Though it would have seemed obvious, he didn't think about the fact that shifting in front of them would mark him as a shifter. He was too focused on what he wanted to pay attention to that. It put him a bit on edge, as people were never kind to shifters, but he did note the aim of the gun lower...a little. He shivered--he did not have the hide of a dragon in this form, nor did he have one of those quilted jackets the riders had. Which vaguely reminded him that he had no winter gear that fit him anymore--last year's was too small. That was a later problem.

He didn't want to let the ship go, but he could hear the beating of the drums increase even over the rushing wind. He could see that they were gaining speed fast. They'd lose them. His bright eyes flicked from the woman in front of him to the ship below and he wanted desperately to shoot down there and burn them all. He would make the ocean red with their blood. They would all suffer. But...he was alone. His crew was still too far out, and they had a lot of guns. If he got shot again, Hana might be able to fix him up again...if he didn't just die first.

It looked for a while like the blonde man would jump into the air in pursuit once more; he was tensed and poised to move, but he seemed undecided. Finally he made up his mind, though it seemed to pain him. Later. They would die later.

"Will you speak to my Captain? He would like to learn of you." Rohaan tried to keep his responses simple and short, as he was decent at imitating the way adults spoke and even more decent with Carisian, but he was not perfect and he knew it. He wasn't ready to reveal his true age just yet. Not alone. "I can take you, and can return you when you are finished. But know that ship down there is as good as burned. If not right now, then later, I will see it to ash. Will you come?"

Rohaan didn't exactly want to have her on his back--he didn't know her and wasn't sure he liked her. But more strongly he needed Berlin to handle this. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, engaging them in the first place, but he had no idea how to handle it now that he did. Berlin would.

The woman remained latched to the dragon with one tentacle, while the other curled underneath the small fur cape that hung from her shoulders. She had pulled down the wrap that covered her face, and while she studied him Rohaan could finally see her face. She had pale blue eyes and a narrow mouth. Her dark brown hair looked like she'd cut it into a chin length bob with the knife strapped to her leg. If conditions at sea were harsh, the sky had ravages of it's own. The wind and sun had chapped her face, and the blazing light could have been the cause for her steady squint at the shifter. It was only when the rest of her crew had joined her did it become apparent she had been stalling. "This one is a shifter, stay sharp." She called back, tilting her head while keeping her eyes on Rohaan. The rifle was aimed at his midsection now, as if a gut wound was more polite than one through the lungs.

The two other riders were men, one taller and one shorter. Both were wearing similar jackets and trousers to the woman, though they wore leather harnesses and cloth turbans. The harnesses were to move around the dragon. Bone spurs grew out of the dragons skin and formed rings that the metal calipers could clip to. By unclipping and clipping to the different spurs, they were able to travel safely along the dragons back. The taller man's turban was white, while the shorter man's was red. The taller man had a full, groomed mustache and white flashing teeth, while the shorter man wore dark glasses that obscured his eyes. The two had been affected by what could be called dignified surprise, the tall man and replied loud enough to be heard over the wind, "Well, it's always a pleasure to meet someone else who doesn't like slavers." His Carisian was accented He said something privately to his compatriot, and he walked to stand next to the woman. They conferred for a moment, and the man laughed, "We'll fly to your ship. You're welcome to join us," he called to Rohaan.

He tugged at his mustache and bowed, the metal harnesses clinking as he said, "I am Kaga-met ir Sabdul, captain of the dragon ship Swift Justice." He raised his head, and he stared directly into Rohaan's eyes. The Justice slowly wheeled, and began gliding towards the caravel.

"Now," He said, "Tell me who you are and who you serve."

"Damn right," was Rohaan's first reply to the woman's remark about him being a shifter. They should stay sharp. He was dangerous, after all, to anyone who was dangerous to him. His tone came from pride, not from challenge though. If he thought there would be much of a fight, he might have taken knife and cut his finger to show his blood--a long standing Vokurian battle ritual meant to remind their enemies of just what they were up against. But that gun kept getting lower. He didn't think it would escalate to a fight, not yet.

He became more aware of the two men standing with the woman, and his eyes were fixed on the shorter one with the shaded glasses. Rohaan would kill for glasses like those that would hide his eyes and allow him to move about port towns with ease. Instead of sneaking around he could actually sit comfortably in taverns, mill through squares, and buy clothes that actually fitted him instead of guessing and snatching ones that looked close. If things went sour, he would find that man first and steal his glasses. He wanted Hana to see them--she seemed like she would know where to find something like them or could maybe make some.

He gave his attention to the speaker, the captain of this...ship? A dragon ship. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but he wasn't convinced he liked it. But he was heartened to know that they also disliked slavers. "Bar..i..zian, " he said with some difficulty, as the word was somewhat new to him, "slavers burned my home. They killed my family. They will be ash if they cross my path. I will leave nothing for the sharks that prowl the sea, nothing for the gulls to pick and steal." He stood up straight, proud. "I am Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen of the pirate ship Borealis. We serve none. You can call me Rio. My captain is Berlin. Come in peace and he will speak with you. I will tell him you're coming."

Rohaan took a few steps back and, being already at the rear of the dragon, stepped straight off its back and fearlessly plummeted down into open air before shifting to a cyradan again and zipping off with full speed (which was considerable) towards his ship. Rohaan returned, gliding gently towards the ship before pulling up to a halt and shifting back to his boy form, his feet hitting the deck with a hard thunk. Berlin was on him in an instant.

"Boy! What did you do?"
"Talked. They wanna talk too, so they're coming. I don't think they wanna fight, but get ready anyway."
"Tell me about them. And the dragon."
"I think..." The boy screwed up his face in thought. "I think it's...well, it kinda looks dead. It's a dragon ship, Swift Justice. The captain is Kaga-met ir Sabdul," he said very slowly. "There were people walking all over it like it was a ship, but it's a dragon? Biggest I ever seen. They could have shot me, but they didn't. They do not like slavers. And a lady had like...tentacles?" He shifted to a copy of her, though the form felt wrong and 'unclean' somehow, so he reverted quickly. He shivered. "I don't know if I like them or not. But they didn't shoot me and they want the slavers dead I think. The dragon had...arms on it..."

"It...what?" Berlin couldn't really process all of this at once. He looked back with his telescope at the now much closer dragon, and he could now see what Rohaan was talking about. It did look kind of...necrotic, in a way. And there were people riding it. But he noticed the human arms like whiskers on the thing and his heart skipped. "Wheel!" He shouted, his tone commanding. "Come tell me what I'm looking at. You know something of...this sort of thing, don't you? Damn it, someone wake Uban!" He looked back to Rohaan. "Anything else?"
"Berlin, one of them had..had.." he made circles with his fingers and put them over his eyes.
"Spectacles?"
"But like, dark ones. So you can't see his eyes." Rohaan didn't have to explain the implications of that for Berlin to catch on. The man nodded. He'd look into it if he got the opportunity.
"What's with the hat?"
Rohaan beamed. "I stole it!"
Berlin couldn't help a smile. "Good lad." But that smile faded as he looked towards the approaching dragon. He had absolutely no idea what to expect.

Hana shaded her eyes as she watched the cyradian glide into an easy landing. She was almost finished readying the muskets and pistols, when the fighting came, there would be no wait. Rio was speaking quickly, his eyes darting between Berlin, Pieter, and back towards the sky, where the dark smudge was growing bigger by the second. Hana was too far away to hear most of what he was saying, but she gathered that he’d made contact with the people on the back of the dragon. The word ‘dead’ reached her, and dread stirred the hairs on her neck. What was up there? Already, she had seen such incredible, terrible things. What could shake these people? Then, the boy became a tentacled woman, and Hana gasped.

---

Wheel struggled mightily to look like he was doing fine. Slowly carrying pails of sand to various parts of the ship, the curse went wild. His emotions leapt from ecstasy to despair, and he stumbled when half of his body went ice cold and the other burning hot. The bucket almost tipped over, and he roughly set it down, panting. He had more important tasks to finish, if he thought the dragon was going to breath fire, what would pails of sand do? He didn’t move, just stood there, trying to take deep breaths so he could get some air in him. Standing in the hallway, he could hear the cyradan’s leathery wingflap over the crashing waves and creaking sails. The boy’s footsteps were a hard patter, Pieter walked with confidence, though he sometimes favored his left leg. Berlin walked with more grace than his heavy tread let on. Hana’s fast gait gave her away, and Uban never stopped walking like a farmer. He leaned against the bulkhead as tiredness stole through him. Lethargy dulled his awareness, and his head grew heavy and began to sink. He rested his eyes, plotting, desperate to wake up. The most he could do was keep himself upright, fighting the urge to lie down and sleep. He didn’t know what would happen if he did, so he forced himself to stand. He couldn’t say how long he stayed trapped in the exhaustion. It could have been minutes, it could have been a half hour. With what felt like a crack, a burning alertness drove him up the stairs to the deck. It felt like a cheap second wind, but if that’s all the curse wanted to give him, he’d take it.
It was only when he was squinting into the bright sky and he watched the dragon glide towards them did he have the sinking feeling that he’d walked into a trap.

---

The dragon was in eyesight before long, the long, snakelike body undulating with the steady beat of massive wings. By the time it was with cannon range, it had begun to circle high above the Borealis. A keen observer with a spyglass would have seen the riders standing at the head and looking at the ship below. The caravel wasn’t judged as a threat, and after wheeling away to gain some distance, angled down towards the water. The dragon’s wings were spread to slow its descent, and sunlight shone through the vellum wings, dark veins standing out like ink. Its forelegs were flexed and the claws lifted as it neared the water. The three riders crouched low on the back, bracing before it touched the water. It was big, though not on the same scale as the turtle. Before reaching the water, it folded its wings against its sides and struck a landing as gently as it could. Avoiding what could have been a very large splash, the dragon began to sinuously twist its long body, swimming along the surface of the water.

It closed the distance between the caravel, and the three riders were standing at the head, with the tentacled woman waving.

---

And he saw her. Millie.

---

“Permission to board?” She called to the pirates.

Wheel never seemed to hear Berlin's command. The captain just cursed; looking at the man, he could see there was something up. Always something on this ship, he thought. He wanted to ask after him, but Berlin knew when the Curse was flaring, it was best just to let Wheel handle it until it became a problem. Still, he'd never seen him quite like this. And knowing that one of his heavy-hitters was 'off' somehow made a bead of sweat form on his brow. More than one. He didn't think this would end in conflict, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be ready for it. Screw it.

"Wheel." His voice was even despite how anxious he felt. If Berlin couldn't do that, then he was no good to anyone. "Report." It wasn't like he could ask 'are you okay?' because Wheel would inevitably answer 'yes'. Besides, he wanted more information than just his physical status. "What's happening? Who are they?" He meant a lot of things by that question. He just needed answers so he could go into this interaction with something resembling levelheadedness.

--

Rohaan spared no time in galloping off down below deck to find Uban. The man was very soundly sleeping and didn't even stir at Rohaan's thundering footsteps, or the first few times the lad shook him. "Uban...Ubaaaan! UBAN!"
The lad was not prepared for the sudden burst of Uban's reaction as the older man sat up in a panicked scramble, uttering a kind of half-muffled cry. He was sweating. His eyes darted around and found the boy, and something in his expression calmed and he remembered that he was tired. "Oi, nightmare. Sorry." It had been the turtle. He'd fallen asleep thinking about it and that thought colored his dreams. Dreams in which the great reptilian beast opened its mouth wide, leaned in, closer, closer, the black abyss of its great maw consuming the horizon until his jaws snapped shut on...Pieter? He shook his head as if to clear it. "That thing!" He said with sudden realization. "There was a thing..?"
Rohaan nodded, grabbing Uban's hand and pulling him towards the stairs. "Aye, a dragon ship? And I think it's dead and its got uh, arms on it and I don't like it? But we're being boarded."
Rohaan spoke fast, Uban barely kept up as he followed him topside. "Sorry, a what? We're what? Shit..." Bad time to fall asleep, he thought. "Rohaan, we're gonna have to have a conversation about your communication ski--oh shit." He stepped into the harsh light of day and saw the thing heading towards them. Uban blinked hard, patting himself down as if to look for his pistols or knives. He had the one knife at least. "Are we...is this a fight? Are we fighting?"
Rohaan shook his head. "Don't think so. They wanna talk."
"I heard that before."
"Nah, I think they mean it. They're hunting the slavers too."

Rohaan was already gone, leaving Uban to just stare dumbly at the approaching dragon. He continued to do that for some time, unsure of what else to really do. Battling a dragon was not his territory, that was all Wheel and Rohaan. Really the best thing he could do was to try and eat something and get a little stamina back. Maybe he should--oh. He turned to go to the galley but Rohaan was there instead holding some dry bread, a little salted meat, and a mug of hot black coffee. "Oh. Thanks mate." He took the proffered grub, though as he took the coffee, it dawned on him where it came from. Only place on the ship to find coffee was Berlin's personal stash. Wordlessly, he gave Rohaan a half horrified, half admonishing look. The shifter gave a toothy, too-innocent grin that meant he was anything but, and Uban nodded conspiratorially and drank the hot liquid. After all, they snuck him booze sometimes, it was only fair he snuck them other dainties.

--

The dragon landed and slid through the water until the two vessels were within boarding distance. All of Berlin's focus was on the thing, and the people riding it. He felt like his eyes were playing tricks on him; he did not believe what he was seeing. It was a ship, and that woman did have tentacles just as Rohaan had shown him. Probably a good thing he had, or he would have been horribly surprised. Right now, he needed to be unflappable.

The crew stood by. Uban, who quickly finished eating, stood still but at the ready. He could produce some lightning if needed, he was sure of it. And Rohaan had wandered over to stand near Hana. He kept close, though it wasn't because he was nervous. He was, in his own way, but not too much. He was mystified by these people but at the end of the day, he did not fear them. No, instead he casually seemed to position himself always between her and the other ship. It wasn't an obvious thing, but he seemed to be aware of her and them at all times. He knew she wasn't a hardened warrior (though he still secretly harbored the belief that she could be dangerous if she wanted) and if he was honest with himself, he guessed he sort of liked her. If this went ugly and someone tried to hurt her (or anyone else for that matter, even Wheel) they'd answer to him first.

Berlin raised a big hand. "Granted." He wouldn't ask them to come unarmed--his crew would be armed and he wouldn't walk onto another man's ship without a weapon to hand if he could help it. But as long as they didn't draw their weapons, he was fine. He waited for them to come aboard, then greeted them with a polite head nod. "Welcome aboard the Borealis. I am her Captain, Berlin. You must be Kaga-met Ir Sabdul. The boy tells me we might have a mutual goal." As always, Berlin was charismatic. He didn't have the kind of extroverted charm Uban came by so naturally, but he did have a general quiet likability. Despite his size, it was hard to believe just by looking at him that he could be a tempest, but he could.

Millie studied the caravel below. The white sails looked like cresting waves against the green waters She swaying in time with the wingbeats, she held onto one of the Swift’s hands with a tentacle, trying to guess what would greet them. . As they drew closer, she could make out human-shaped sailors crossing the deck. The shifters were hiding -or- it was easier to sail a ship as a human. Idly, she wondered what a ship sailed by animals would be like. Dogs pulling the ropes, rat helmsmen, and (why not?) a raven in the crow’s nest.
A fly fumbled into her face, and she twisted away from the buzzing shock at her cheek. Clinging to her shoulder for a moment, it rubbed its hands together in thought and was whipped away by the wind. A summons from Yawar ir Shrajr, the ship’s chiurgeon.

Climbing up, she went to join her crew.

___

Watchers lurked beneath the impenetrable waters. A storm was brewing above, and sight was clear under it.
___

The prince and the chiurgeon lifted their heads from conversation as Millie entered the cabin. Made of waxed canvas stretched over a hollow in the Swift’s back, it held three chests of personal possessions, two bunks, a glowworm lantern hanging from the ceiling, a folding canvas stool, and a small pile woven carpet. The beds were occupied, so Millie took the stool. They had spoken privately since she’d relayed the conversation she’d had with the shifter. Nothing she did was confidential anyways, Yawar saw what his flies did, and he told Kaga-met everything. They nodded in greeting, and Kaga-met spoke, “I’ve heard stories about shifters. They’re driven by passion, so we must tread carefully. They’re hunting Path of Prosperity, so we might be able to draw them into some deal.” Millie leaned forward and added, “I counted at least five, maybe six. Pirate ships don’t carry big crews, but if they’re hunting a slavers galley?” She shrugged, unsure of what was waiting on the caravel below. Yawar’s dark glasses caught a glint of lanternlight, and flies crawled beneath his glasses and flew away, like bees from a hive. He raised his hoarse voice and said, “The Swift was fed yesterday, it can get itself out of the ocean in a hurry if need be.” Kaga-met looked down at the swirling designs of the carpet silently, weighing his thoughts. “We’ll set down, perhaps we can make some deal with these pirates.”

____

Pieter leaned on the rail next to the cannon. He held a smoldering bit of rope unobtrusively at his side. If fighting broke out, he didn’t want to have to go looking for flint and steel. It took a while for the dragon to reach them. His heart dropped as the whole Borealis was cast in the shadow of the dragon. It slowly looped the Borealis, gliding lower until it descended into the water. The crash of water was smaller than he expected, and there, he could finally see, like overgrown whiskers along the side of the dragon, arms. They were hard to make out, because they were the same yellowed, slightly translucent hide that covered the dragon. They worked in motion, paddling while the dragon twisted in the water. The rope fell from his fingers and went out with a hiss on the wet deck. By the time he’d rekindled it, the dragon had drawn alongside the Borealis.

___

It was Millie, back from the dead. It was a monster with tentacles and Millie’s face. But not the face she’d had in Vyrm, she’d grown and aged. And had tentacles. He couldn’t feel the curse, felt great, actually. He picked up one of the muskets Hana had loaded, felt ready. Ready to banish an evil spirit wearing an old face. He had backed out of sight by the time she was leaping aboard portside. The kid could watch him from the ropes. He wouldn’t interfere, Wheel thought, not when monsters were aboard. He knelt, hefting the musket, aimed it her head.

___

After receiving permission, Millie leapt across first, keeping her tentacles curled behind her back and her heavy spear steady as she landed on the deck. The flies that had clung to her covertly peeled away, infiltrating the ship. Kaga-met went over after her, his curved dagger rapping against his waist as he caught his balance on board. He was studying the pirates before Yawar had jumped over. An old man covered in tattoos stood next to a cannon (charming), a bear of a man with a ponytail, a sailor who looked like he’d been on watch the entire night, an East Continental woman holding a staff and watching them intensely, a child with cherubic curls perched in the ropes. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. The man that had flown up to them wasn’t present. At least one was a shifter, and there could be more. The large ponytail man approached them, and Kaga-met bowed at the waist. Captain Berlin seemed to be a reasonable man, and Kaga-met felt more confident as he replied, “Thank you, Captain Berlin. I am Captain Kaga-met ir Sabdul of the dragon-ship Swift Justice please, call me Kaga-met,” It wasn’t likely that the pirates would appreciate formality, “We’re hunting the slaver fleet operating in this area. We’d be interested in working with you on driving them to hell.

Berlin studied each of them carefully. They were such an odd bunch, and at first he couldn't figure out where they all must have come from. Not all from the same place, he thought. They looked and spoke too differently to all be kinsmen. The tentacles were throwing him off, too. Of course, in typical Berlin fashion, none of this showed on his face. Instead, he displayed a careful neutrality. Rohaan's assessment had been right though, they were after the slavers. Well, finally some good news.

Berlin, always surprisingly polite for a pirate, bowed a little and said, "A pleasure to have you aboard, Kaga-met." He had a million questions, first and foremost was a burning Sweet Tevira WHAT IS THAT THING as he stole a glance at the Swift Justice, but he had more decorum than that. "We're a small pirate crew that has a special distaste for slavers. Some of us have had rather personal experiences with them, so we're quite motivated to see them all destroyed. If they have any captives still alive, my hope is to rescue those we still can. We offer no mercy to our targets. Not this time. I know we don't look like much but..." Berlin smiled, a mischievous gleam in his gray eyes. "We're more than we seem. Allow me to introduce my crew."

Berlin turned to look at them, noting that Wheel was nowhere to be seen. Interesting. There was more to that story, and he'd get to the bottom of it in time. "This is the first-mate, Pieter, Uban, Hanabaptiste, and you've already met Rio." He gestured to the boy, who flashed the visitors a wicked little sneer of a grin that said, Not what you expected, am I? Berlin, still looking at Rohaan, spoke in vokurian and instructed him to put on a pot of tea. The shifter nodded once, changed to the shape of a sparrow and swooped down from his perch in the ropes and straight down the steps to the galley below deck. Speaking to his guests he said, "Can I offer you some tea? I'd like to discuss strategy with you, if you've got the time and inclination. They outnumber us greatly, so our hope was in stealth and infiltration, something me and my team does very well. We have a...very specialized skillset. And I assume your plan was not to fire cannons at them all night either..." he said, stealing another glance at their semi-alive ship. "I'd like to hear what you had in mind, and what you know about them, if you're willing to share."

The Swift's riders struggled to keep their expression neutral when the boy revealed himself to be a shifter. Millie ignored the sudden urge to knock the kids smirk off his face. Looking at the other pirates, she wondered if the other pirates were shifters too. No way to find out unless she opened their veins.
Kaga-met smiled at the prospect of tea, "We'd be happy to share your tea. The Swift can do much, but there's no fire aboard and no tea."
Yawar stood silently, watching past his dark glasses. His vision was split across several dozen flies, each buzzing and darting and looking out with 360 degree vision. It was radically different than human eyes, but he'd become used to interpreting what he saw. There he stood, seemingly watching the two captains speak while he peered into every corner of the ship. There weren't any other pirates below-decks, but there was a man hidden from them aiming a musket at them. Leaning his head, Yawar whispered to Millie, "A man is pointing a musket at us, no, there."

Without speaking, Millie lifted her spear and aimed it at the hiding gunman. "Best come out, friend."

Berlin smiled and looked over Kaga-Met's shoulder towards the man's er...ship. "I can imagine." Does that thing feel pain...? Just how sentient is it? "I'm sorry to say it's not excellent tea, but it serves well enough. Do you like mint?" Sometimes it was hard to believe he was a pirate with the way he acted. Most people who saw him apart from his crew or his ship were sort of confused by the juxtaposition of his clothes and his manners. Berlin just knew how to talk to people, and he always said words were his best weapons. That and maybe a loaded pistol...

Rohaan trotted back up topside not long after with a beat-up wooden tray that looks like it'd kissed fire at one point or another, and a mismatched set of wooden and chipped ceramic mugs stacked beside a small black kettle. He set this down on an upturned crate that he kicked irreverently into place. He looked to Berlin, who nodded his approval, and then the lad went to go sit on the gunnel next to where Uban leaned against it. The man was ready and capable of engaging in a fight if he had to, but he was deeply hoping he wouldn't have to. Rohaan pushed an apple into his hand that he seemed to have procured from nowhere.
"Sweet Tevira lad, you're the best," Uban whispered back.

Berlin was just pouring tea into his collection of sad, mismatched cups when he saw tentacle-lady's spear lift. His blood ran cold for a second, and his brain raced. What happened? Hadn't it been going well? Hadn't--he took a look around, quickly counting heads. Rohaan, Uban, Hana, Pieter...

Wheel.
Damn. DAMN. Berlin felt a sudden rush of hot, boiling anger rise up in him but he held it in check, and the only evidence of it was a quiet storm behind his eyes. This was a delicate situation and that was a sure fire way to screw it up. He'd box his ears later though when he didn't have to play host.

Berlin smiled tersely, and if he let a bit of his magical charm loose while he did it, he could hardly be blamed. He slowly set the mug and kettle down and spread his arms in a placating gesture. "Easy now, there's no need for weapons among allies." He emphasized that last word a bit. "Wheel." He kept his voice reasonably low, but it had an edge to it that Berlin rarely used. "Stand down." Again, he did not bark, but the restraint in his tone made it seem to his experienced crew like he'd shouted. "The only bloodshed here will be the blood of slavers. We've got a common goal, Kaga-met. I assure you I'm more interested in my quarry than fighting you and yours."

Wheel hears Berlin, that old nag, speaking. What's said doesn't register. Hes gone numb, and the distance between his finger and the trigger is unfathomable. Speaking only to her, he says,
"You owe me an explanation. "
"So do you."
They stare at each other.
Millies voice is level, " I thought you were dead."
"I might as well be."
"Not yet."
"No."
Millie lowers the spear, he keeps the musket level. Her lips twitch in what could be a smile.
Her tentacles unfurl, raising high above her in the air.
She is terrifying, something monstrous still human.
So is he.
Her tentacles drop, dragging briefly on the deck before she pushes them erect, crossing the deck faster than anything should.
Towering over him, she stares down the barrel of the gun to his unmoving face.
"I went after you," she says in a choked whisper.
The gun trembles briefly, and he jerks it down as soon as he notices.
Weakness is how you die.
He can barely stand.
She drops heavily to her feet, her tentacles limp.
He buries himself in her arms.
"I'm sorry" he says, inaudibly.
They look up to the crowd watching them, and their scowls are identical. They beat a fast retreat to the far side of the deck, not speaking until their heads are bent close and they are safe.

The air aboard the Borealis became static as everyone watched the exchange between this tentacled stranger and Wheel. From the first word, Berlin quickly put it together that they knew each other, and he had yet to decide if that was a good thing or not. So far it was pointing to not. And yet...he knew if Wheel really wanted this person dead, they'd be dead without so much fuss or drama. He liked that about Wheel, he was practical. So he waited. With bated breath he waited and hoped that his crew was ready to fight if it came down to it. He hoped the Swift Justice didn't breathe fire. Did all dragons breathe fire of some sort or another? Could that one anymore, even if it once could?

Uban bit into his apple with care in order to be as quiet as possible; he absolutely wanted to hear what was being said and without too much crunching to drown it out. He could see tentacle-lady tensing, and inwardly he groaned. Why'd he have to pick today to show off and experiment? If he was honest with himself, his current wildest fantasy was for someone to feed him in bed, and here they were about to engage with some people that were--dare he think it--even weirder than they were. He felt exhausted. Uban, perhaps even more than Berlin, did not want to see this whole exchange escalate.

So when the woman vaulted across the deck and managed to weird him out more than Rohaan (an impressive feat), and said shifter instantly dropped from his seat on the gunnel, Uban shot a hand out faster than he thought he was currently capable of to grab the lad's shirt collar. He yanked back a little, earning a strangled "Ghhllk" sound from the boy, who immediately turned his scowl on his mate.
"Shh," Uban hissed even though the boy hadn't said anything. "Wheel can handle himself, don't make this worse. Besides, I'd like to see her just try to stick him with that spear."
Rohaan whispered a little wicked cackle. "Yeah!" He was right, Wheel could handle himself. And that freed up his attention to now focus on the other two, especially the man with the glass circles over his eyes. Rohaan wanted those. If he had them, their next trip into port would be a whole new experience for him, one he thought denied to him at birth. He could hide in plain sight. So those infamous lapis eyes settled with the weight of boulders on the man with the spectacles. If things went sideways, he would be Rohaan's first target.

The wind rattled the tack and made the water slop against the sides of the boat, but still, no one fired any shots or punctured any lungs. And Berlin's expression went from tight to unabashedly surprised as Wheel and the woman...hugged? He actually blinked a few times just in case. No, still there. And it was still him and not some cursed (er, doubly cursed) version of Wheel, Berlin realized as they both served them all up such sour frowns as would turn new milk. Berlin actually sighed, feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. He stole a quick glance to Pieter that simultaneously said 'thank the stars' and 'this is why I drink.'

The captain turned back to Kaga-met and his mate. "Seems we have some mutual friends. Good. Very good." He seemed a little more relaxed, a little more assured of their odd alliance. Berlin picked up two mugs of mint tea and offered them to Kaga-Met and Yawar. "Cheers, mates." He drank from his own mug, wishing it was of better quality. Mm, he'd have to shake down a merchant ship soon to get them some. "So...I know we don't look like we'd be much of an asset to you and yours, but I've hand-picked my crew over the years and I'm very pleased with what they're capable of. Hana here is a right-fine mage and has been working with Uban there to create some special explosives. Uban can summon lighting from his hands." Uban held up his thumb and forefinger and let a short arc jump between them for show, but then he found himself only wishing for his hammock even more. "The lad there's a shape shifter, as you've seen. A terror in battle, but also a first-rate topman, if I may say so myself." He added the last bit with a little bit of an edge, as if to preemptively defend the lad and Berlin's choice to keep him on board. "Pieter's been my friend and shipmate for many years, and he has a knowledge of the...darker parts of the sea that has proven invaluable. Wheel..." he glanced back to where he and the woman had retreated and simply said, "is one of the best warriors I've ever seen. And I..." Berlin gave an honestly embarrassed smile. "I'm not sure how to describe me. Perhaps I could demonstrate? May I have your hand a moment?"

Berlin reached out one of his own to Kaga-Met as if to shake hands, offering such a charming smile as he did it. "Now, I'm going to ask you to do two very simple actions. And I would like for you to not comply. Ready?" Berlin let his power flow into Kaga-Met and said, "Tell me your name, and clap your hands once." Nothing odd or humiliating, but enough to get his point across. Berlin let go of his hand. "So...that's us. How long have you been chasing this lot? Do you know much about them? I was sort of planning to sneak aboard their ships one by one and...sow a little chaos. Make them kill each other. Once our cover was blown I figured..." Berlin shrugged. "We'd blow them to bits, burn down their ships, you know. But if you've got other thoughts, I'd like to hear them."

The only thing that had kept Kaga-met from drawing his gun had been the stillness of the other pirates. If it had really been an ambush, they wouldn’t be alive. When it turned out that Millie knew the musketman and left to speak with him, most of the tension left his body. Not all of it, but as he took a sip of the still hot tea, he wasn’t worried it was poisoned. Kaga-met carefully studied each pirate as they were introduced. The woman surprised him, the only mages he’d met before were, loud, with their appearance. His eyes widened when he saw the arc of lightning. He’d never seen anything like that before. The chiurgeons back home would have a field day with him, he thought. If Pieter, the firstmate, had acquired the tattoos he was covered in at sea, he’d been a sailor for a long time. The musketman was named Wheel. Millie had never mentioned him by name. But if that’s how he greeted old acquaintances, that wouldn’t be so surprising. It was a relief to know that there was only one shifter, though that was enough to make him uncomfortable.

Yawar kept his silent watch. The shifter boy had begun to stare him down. He wasn’t sure why he’d been chosen, but the flies nearest the boy saw how his body moved with his attention, now focused entirely on himself. Yawar slowly turned his head so it looked like he was making direct eye contact, then turned his ‘gaze’ towards the captains, ignoring the boy. Millie knew not to reveal his secret, but his flies revealed that the two were speaking with hands screening their mouths. She didn’t want him to read their lips. Fine. He withdrew the closest flies, turning his attention to form a loose net around the rest of the pirates. He didn’t want the boy to notice the flies, so he kept them low to the ground, only flying in short hops to better reposition themselves.

Kaga-met glanced at Yawar when Berlin asked for his hand, and seeing the chiurgeon nod, clasped the broad pinkish hand with his slender brown one. “Alright captain, I- My name is Kaga-met ir Sabdul.” And when he tried to clap his hands together, the one still holding the mug sloshed, the scalding water splashing on his hands and jacket sleeve. He grimaced in pain, swept the expression from his face and fixed his gaze on Berlin. “Captain, I’d like to speak privately with you.”