---

Mina-Sakh was an oasis on the border between the Circle sea and the inland sea of sand. A dust blown walled city that rose out from the rocky shore with thick ancient walls protecting the elegant towers and arches of the city itself. The city had a port, fully walled, with a small entry point that the garrison could control entry to with a harbour chain. As if the squat fortress and chain tower bristling with artillery were not enough of a deterrent to unauthorised entry.

The Amir of Mina-Sakh, safe in his palace at the heart of the city, liked to think of his city as the South Coast's premium trade port. Which it probably was, but it was better known as one of the largest pirate ports on in the circle sea and the merchants of the city had no qualms in trading for both the loot from captured vessels and any unfortunate captives who happened to be unable to pay a ransom to whichever Pirate had taken them.

The sun was high in the sky. The spring night chill was well and truly burned off and the day beginning to become unpleasantly hot. Down by the Port, a young Monchian woman, pale in comparison to the locals, with big blue eyes sat drinking arak with one of the local men, a muscular Addonian with a couple of day's growth of scruffy stubble on his chin. She had put on a local tunic and sandals which were more comfortable in the warm weather than one of the thick, multi-layered dresses that were fashionable in the Northern lands. She lifted the glass of arak in front of her in a toast to her companion, "Well, here's to another successful voyage my friend."

The Addonian lifted his own glass and they clinked them together. The pair were in the shade provided by the colonnades that ran all sides of the port. The slight breeze carried the smell of salt air and fish, "The Imperials seem to be out in force," he remarked darkly, "Their bounty hunters seem to be getting more common by the day," he gave a wry laugh, "It is almost like they are preparing for something, or perhaps sensing a change in the wind."

The woman pouted, taking a sip from her drink, "Do you mean to say it isn't my brilliant sailing that got us away?"

"Oh absolutely," he waved to the barman who approached with the bottle to top them up, "Simko!" he called the man by name, "Pour yourself a drink. Come join us for a moment."

The bartender did as he was asked, returning a few moments later with his own arak, sitting down between the two of them in the shade, "So, , what can I do for you two today?" he asked, apparently assuming they wanted to discuss something.

The woman giggled, "So suspicious! But yes.. I think Momin was about to ask what news there is about port?"

Simko say back, running a hand though thinning hair, "Well, as it happens, there is something worth you knowing," he paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, "The Ambassador from the Union has someone issuing letters of marque at Palace Court, they're not being particularly fussy about who they issue to from what I hear."

The pair exchanged a glance before the man, Momin turned back to Simko, "That, my friend, is very helpful news."

---

Unlike the sandstone that most of the city was built of, the Palace itself was made of white marble that reflected the sun back quite uncomfortably for anyone trying to study the intricate geometric patterns etched into the columns of the Court Colonnade. The Doel representatives had set up in the shade provided by one of them. They looked hot in their thick Northern coats. The Naval Officer seated at a desk with a quill even had one of those long, curly wigs on that were so fashionable amongst the nobility, though he had hired a young local boy to fan him constantly. Probably not a bad idea.

Momin and his companion had slouched against a column some distance away, "Well, Captain, want to get your letter?" he asked her.

The woman looked up at him, then gave a small smirk, "Yes... but let's just wait for a few moments. I'm interested to see who else is looking for a contract to go raiding. I'd wager they'll be trying to get us to hit the Calarians out in the Main."

Momin inclined his head in agreement, "Almost certainly."

A war was brewing. Though whether it was between the Calarians and the Doel and their Northern Allies or with the Empire was anyone's guess. Calaria was growing more powerful by the day and other states looked at them with fear, greed or both.

Aghilas Jêle Doeli

- Mina-Sahk

It had begun in one of the local taverns and was first heard from the palace as a distant thing, like a commotion from the market square or perhaps a coming storm. One by one, like a shambling horde of undead, limp figures began disentangling themselves from prostitutes, barmaids, local women - and men - along with one another, moaning and rubbing their red eyes and puffy faces. After collecting themselves they began finding their way back to life, finishing half-finished flagons of ale, dousing their faces with basin water before shambling out into the streets past the upended tables and chairs, over floors covered with broken glass and still sleeping women to squint with pained faces at the first touch of the forgotten light of day.

Curses and strange oaths rang out, like crows calling out to one another, or geese preparing to take flight. A grunt here. A squawk there. A monkey, hearing the call, emerges from between three sleeping figures and scrambles from body to body, leaping to perch in a window before joining the slowly gathering horde in the street. Swaying wildly, hardly capable of uttering worthy of being called words, they gather together in the square as though willed to life and animated by some unseen hivemind. Presiding over it all stands one among them. A massive man of corded muscle standing in the square, calling together his horde like an insane mad-piper by firing his flintlock pistol into the air and waiving his fine nimcha in the air while howling like a madman.

And then, once they assembled, the pirate pointed in the direction of the palace and like a great beast stirring and setting itself to motion, their calls become more insistent, more feverish until as one they surge forth like a flock of baying gulls, or a tidal wave, forcing their way up the main thoroughfare of Mina-Sakh. Their voices rising up in mad, gibbering, feverish intensity gathering life and strength and numbers as they go as others emerge from houses and taverns along the way, summoned by the gibbering madness.

Bleary-eyed they lend themselves to the bacchanalian march, set the cadence of incoherent singing still fueled by a drinking spree that had never truly ended since the crew of the Hamsat al Marid had made port some three weeks earlier. A number of prize ships the company of the al Marid had sailed into port with, each heavily laden with cargo, treasure, slaves and more. A small fortune for the company, yet after a refit and a truly legendary run of drunken revelry as even Mina-Sahk had scarcely known before, many were left with scarcely a pair of coppers to rub together.

Together they surged toward the Amir of Mina-Sahk's palace. Chants could be heard from its colonnaded halls, "Doel! Doel! Doel!" in honour of their Addonian captain, along with "To the Calarian Main!" accompanied by staccato expulsions of jubilant pistols directed to the heavens. Their path and progress was plainly evident from the palace, as dark clouds of black powder rose above the rooftops of Mina-Sahk and the acrid scent of black powder began wafting into the palace gates.

And suddenly the mass of pirates was upon them.

Bewildered palace guards found themselves confronted by heavily armed mob. Not merely the crew of the Hamsat al-Marid, swelled as they were with sailors fallen in with the pirates during their run of epic partying, and forth by the promise of greater prizes and feats of debauchery yet to come for any who joined them. Such that the handful of guards on watch found themselves, quite suddenly, awash in a sudden tempestuous flood of heavily armed and singing madmen. "Let us in, we're expected!"

Some small conflagration flared up, with shouts from alarmed palace guards that were quickly swallowed up by laughing voices as a hundred hands lifted and braced carts against the panicked closing of gates. The soldiers' shouts were lost as they were swept up in the surging river of singing, yelling bodies pouring forth through the gates into the courtyard.

Pirates fanning out, making camp in the palace courtyard. Breaking from the rest a party of a dozen or so marched up the steps towards the Palace Court and its elaborate colonnades. "Captain Aghilas Jêle Doeli has arrived!" A tall, scarred elgafolk sailor yelled over the chanting din of sailors, the elgafolk was clearly not the man himself.

Emerging from the parting clouds of pirates was Aghilas Jêle Doeli. Tall, broad of shoulder with nary an ounce of body fat on the man's body, the smiling ruddy faced pirate paused at the steps rising from the courtyard towards the colonnaded section where the naval officer and the woman and her lieutenants were situated. Sheathing his nimcha, Aghilas handed the now empty pistol in his hand off to a young boy who promptly replaced it with another and seemed to be following him for the explicit purpose.

"Be on your best behaviour, we've business!" The sun-baked Aghilas' smiling face announced. It was the voice of man used to shouting orders at sea and being heard as he began to summit the steps. Reaching the top his eyes scanned the woman and her crew standing to one side, the pirate's gleaming white teeth showing momentarily whiter through the bramble of his great beard, before shifting the the desk and the naval officer there. "I heard tale someone put out call for such salt encrusted corsairs as might strike terror into Calarian hearts. Well here we are!"

Aghilas' voice boomed, and he turned briefly towards the courtyard full of sailors and pirates, the performance clearly meant for their benefit. Indeed, they cheered and fired celebratory gunfire into the air in response.

This was, it seemed, their best behaviour.

CRICKET (KATHERINE BOUCHARD)

"No. You're crazy."
The boy glared at her, arms crossed. "Why not? You scared?"
"Are you kidding me? If their captain caught me, she'd skin me alive!"
"The only way to get out quickly is to stow away. If you're to much of a coward, have fun getting married."
Katherine felt a pang of emotion at the mention of her family.
"The Vengeance is the only ship leaving soon." Katherine looked towards the port, at the tall sails of the ships.
"You're right."
...

Katherine carefully slunk past the people guarding the ship, quietly descending the stairs.
She hid behind the barrels, and got ready to depart.

The following morning Coralie D'Ambois cracked an eye open. She pushed herself up from where she seemed to have decided to go to sleep, using some other pirate's back as a pillow. He was either drunk or dead, but she didn't try to check. Her head swam, the morning sunlight burned her eyes and she felt ever-so-slightly like she was going to be sick... and she didn't quite remember what she'd done. There had been a lot of drinking. She'd definitely kissed... someone. She couldn't remember who. Or if they'd been a man or a woman. She glanced around at the other comatose forms in the courtyard outside the palace. Probably a man, she decided, and probably someone she didn't want to remember.

She groaned as she staggered to her feet, feeling for her coin purse. That was there at least... and seemed fuller than yesterday. Had she robbed someone? Or sold something? Had she stolen something and sold it to someone else? She didn't remember. And decided she probably didn't want to know the answer to that either. The important thing was she had enough coin for a hair-of-the-dog remedy, in the form of a glass of arak and one of those greasy local meat-filled pastries.

She stepped over a fallen pirate, hurrying quietly in the direction of the ship. Where was Momin? She was sure she remembered him punching someone's teeth out...

... close to an hour later, Coralie found herself back on the deck of the Vengeance still feeling like she'd been strapped to a cart wheel and driven down a street. Though at least now it didn't feel like she'd been driven down a cobbled street... she glanced about the crew. Momin was there, leaning heavily against the mainmast. They looked ready to set sail, "Well, looks like you're ahead of me today!" she called jovially to the crew, pretending that raising her voice didn't feel like a Quinian piper was blasting in her ears, "I guess I shouldn't keep you waiting! Weigh anchor and hoist the sails! We sail to the Main!" There was a cheer that made her wince.

As the crew sprung into action with considerably more vigour than she would have been capable of, Coralie stepped over to Momin, "I'm just going to inspect the stores. Don't want to sail beyond Estornen without a full inventory."

Momin had a slight twinkle in his eye and she suspected she knew exactly why she wanted to 'inspect the stores' but he didn't say anything, just nodded, "Of course Captain. I'll take command as we put to sea."

So, on slightly wobbly legs, Coralie climbed down into the hull. It was full. Well supplied. She gave a slight groan, flopping back into a pile of sailcloth, closing her eyes and enjoying the gentle list of the ship.

THE VENGEANCE- CRICKET.
..
Cricket had tried to get some sleep, but it had been a fruitless endeavor.
Sighing, she shifted, sinking against the wall.
Sometimes she wondered how her life would've been if she hadn't run away.
Is all of this really worth it?
CREEAAKK...
Her eyes snapped open, and she bolted upwards.
Shivering, she peaked out of her hiding spot.
Immediately she ducked back down into it.
Captain D'ambois.
She covered her mouth, feeling tears prick at her eyes.
She'd heard lots of stories about her. If she didn't skin her alive, and sell her body parts in jars, she'd most certainly turn her in.
She should have never ran.

Coralie noticed the noise and sat bolt upright, doing a reasonable job of looking like she had been awake and alert rather than trying to find somewhere to take a nap to sleep off her hangover. There didn't seem to be anyone there. Not obviously anyway, "Who's there?" she asked. If it was just a rat she'd feel like quite the fool...

The Captain had a Vichian accent with tones to her voice that spoke to an aristocratic upbringing. She didn't look particularly dangerous at the moment... uncertain and slightly ill, but not dangerous.

Cricket froze, her fight-or-flight deciding to not kick it at the time is would be most necessary-
But out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a hatch. She crept over and pulled it open, taking one last look at the Captain before ducking in.

Water. Freezing cold water. Wait, no, not water, it was... Rum? Oh, dreadful pirates. Of course the captain had heard the damned splash, and Cricket could see her shadow at the hatch. She swam upwards, breaking the surface, where the Captain held out her hand. Cricket took it, and the Captain pulled her up into the ship.

"So."

D'Ambois was confused to find a child on the ship, in the rum barrel no less. The smell of more alcohol set her stomach churning, but she held back the urge to be sick giving the girl a reassuring smile. If it was an adult there would have been more questions but Coralie had a soft spot for children. What could her life have been like had her son lived? if she hadn't been forced to sea?

"Now I'm pretty sure I didn't recruit you to my ship, but I can't remember last night all that well so I might have," she said sitting back on the pile of sails, "If you came on here by accident, would you like me to turn the ship around? Were probably still in harbour and I can get you back to your parents. Im sure they'll be beside themselves if they knew you were on the Vengeance!" She would have been if it were her girl...

But given they'd just left Mina-Sakh there was also every chance the child was a runaway slave... "Or, if you'd rather not go back, I can drop you somewhere else if you like. My name is Coralie," she introduced herself informally, skipping over any titles.

Aghilas Jêle Doeli

Before Cricket could respond a voice was heard shouting.

"PERMISSION TO COME ABOARD!" The booming voice rang out loud enough that it was plainly heard in the underbelly of Vengeance, accompanied by call backs from the deck asking their business. At which point the response was plainly heard. "Captain Aghilas of the Hamsat al-Marid wishes to pay respects to Captain D'Ambois of the Vengeance!"

Moments later footsteps were heard running down the deck above to the hatch above, shouting down into the hold. "Wherry come up along us. Captain of the Marid" He called, repeating for Coralie more or less word-for-word the exchange that had just been shouted.

"No!" She bursts out as Coralie mentions her parents. Coralie raises her eyebrows.
"I- i mean, no. That's fine. Just...Drop me at your next port." Coralie opened her mouth to speak, but someone called from above. Cricket's eyes widened and she ducked back into the shadows immediately.
Maybe Coralie wasn't as bad as them all, but if she thought she would trust her not to sell her out, she was dead wrong.

"No!" She bursts out as Coralie mentions her parents. Coralie raises her eyebrows.
"I- i mean, no. That's fine. Just...Drop me at your next port." Coralie opened her mouth to speak, but someone called from above. Cricket's eyes widened and she ducked back into the shadows immediately.
Maybe Coralie wasn't as bad as them all, but if she thought she would trust her not to sell her out, she was dead wrong.

"Uurgh," Coralie grumbled, "I don't know how he manages to sound so chipper and loud after last night!"

She gave Cricket a thoughtful look, "That doesn't inspire me with confidence you have a plan! Now I'm going to go upstairs to meet the loud gentleman and I want you to come with me so I can tell them I'm looking after you for now. There are exactly three women, including you on this ship," she said, "And I want you to be safe. So, first, I'll need a name for you," she said as she pushed herself to her feet."

"And don't worry, the sea is a great place if you have 'complicated' history with your family," she added with a reassuring smile, "You've heard my accent. Privateering was not my first choice in life."

For a moment, Cricket expression softened. She shook it off, pulling out her pistol.
"I..." Cricket crept back, her face a scowl. "I don't believe you." She hissed.
"I've heard the stories about you." Granted, she'd also heard stories Coralie could tell when someone was bluffing, which she desperately hoped was not true. Her gun wasn't loaded. She slowly slank back into the shadows.
"Cricket." She barked, hoping her alias would appease her. "My name is Cricket."

"There are stories about me?" Coralie seemed surprised, "Ooh fun. I hope they exaggerate how pretty I am."

She didn't seem offput by the pistol for some reason "Now Cricket," she said, quite reasonably, "I obviously can't let you just hide in the hold here. Please have a little bit of faith in me, and come me. You won't regret that choice."

"I'm not going to go scampering over boxes trying to drag you out. I'm hung-over, tired and have a visitor. But I will send my crew to get you out. This isn't a very big ship, they will find you and they probably won't be as nice as me," she stood up, waiting for Cricket to join her, "So, are we going to meet our visitor?"

Cricket considered this for a moment. She then returned her pistol to the holster.

"More like ones about you skinning kids..." Cricket muttered under her breath.

She slunk out from the darkness, and she could see her better. She looked aristocratic.
Coralie certainly didn't seem threatening, but she knew looks could deceive.
And maybe she was being paranoid, but her paranoia had saved her many times. But she knew when to stand down.
"This friend of yours. How sure are you that he is trustworthy?"
She understood perfectly well the bounty out for her was enough to turn many against her.

"Skinning children?" Coralie sounded half-outrages, half-amused, "I've never skinned anything in my life! Not even a fish."

"He's a pirate," Coralie gave a slight grin, "And I only met him yesterday. I wouldn't trust him as far as I can throw him! But we've got got letters of marque from the Doel so that means we're on the same side for the next little while," she paused, giving Cricket a thoughtful glance before explaining what the letter meant in practical terms, "That means if we take a vessel we need to treat the crew with respect and then sail it to a Doel port and prove, in court, that we were legally entitled to seize it. Then, if we can prove we were, we can sell the ship legally. It's a bit of extra effort but worth it for the extra money you can make with a legally acquired vessel."

She beckoned for cricket to follow her then clambered by the ladder from the hold, blinking slightly in the brightness of the morning, "Captain Aghilas," Coralie greeted him, "You seem to be in fine spirits this morning... welcome to the Vengeance!"

Aghilas Jêle Doeli

Aghilas the Doel was already on the deck. The large man grin revealed flawless white teeth in the way he spread his arms in welcome at Coralie's welcome revealed the four loaded pistols strapped under the shoulder sling of his silken belt and sash. "Captain D'Ambois! Aha, nothing like the prospect of a fresh voyage and the feel of the waves again after weeks ashore to make you feel alive again!"

The Doel approached D'Ambois, crossing the deck he was the sort of man that just kept getting larger as he did. The sort of man whose arms were as thick as most men's thighs. Even so, The Doel - who was clearly Addonian by his tanned, ruddy complexion - had a friendly manner about him. "So. Who here is ready for a little bit of buckling the swash in the name of Doel Union?"

"Indeed!" Coralie agreed with a bright smile, "Though," she added confidingly, "I'm rather hoping that they will be small waves at least for the first day. Nevertheless I'm eager to do an arguably honest day's work for our benefactors in the Union!"

The comments drew a wry chuckle from the other huge Addonian on deck. He was by most standards a particularly large man, though he was a good 5 inches shorter than Aghilas, "Captain Aghilas," she continued, motioning towards him, "May I present my First Mate, Momin Asinger. And this is Cricket," she motioned at the young girl. Momin directed a frown at her, but didn't say anything, letting Coralie continue, "She's a distant cousin of mine on my Father's side."

The last bit was pure fabrication, but the girl looked like a Monchian so there was no real reason to doubt it...

Aghilas the Doel

"Aha! But a few good waves'll put hair on your chest there Captain D'Ambois!" Aghilas smiled a great white, toothy grin with a great laugh as she introduced Momin first. "And good to meet you!" Aghilas greeted Momin reaching to shake his hand with one arm, while the other rested on the man's shoulder while he took the measure of the man. "Oh-ho! Now there's a right-proper sailing man. Momin was it? Got some meat on them shoulders!" There was an unmistakable firm clasp of Momin's shoulder with the sort of grip men developed spending a life working ropes.

When at last Aghilas' attention was directed towards Cricket, he made something of a production of bowing low to the girl. "And good to meet you as well, little Cricket! You know, I was about your age when I first set to sea little lady. She wasn't quite so fine as the Vengeance mind you." Rising again, he cast his eyes about. "That one there's mine, Little Cricket. The Hamsat al Marid."

He gestured to the stern of the Vengeance where in the distance the al-Marid had fallen off against the wind as it hauled in its anchor. Languidly at first the al-Marid's stern tilted away as it's fore mast and jibs pulled her about, her aft sails set the opposite way to keep her balanced. As she crested the wind the crew swung the yard-arms around, the ship listing leeward and now pulling sharply in behind the Vengeance as the crew began to set and hoist her full sail complement.

Momin gave a chuckle, patting Aghilas on the shoulder. He was... an impressive specimen of a man, "The Hamsat is a fine looking ship.
More guns than the Vengeance from what I can see," he grinned, motioning at the long barrelled chase gun in the Vengeance's bow, "If you had one of those, she might be a perfect ship!"

Coralie meanwhile laughed at the idea of putting hairs on her chest, "I certainly hope not!" she declared in mock horror, "My charm and sophistication are a weapon as sharp as any rapier! Hairs on my chest really wouldn't do at all!"

She paused before asking, "So, Captain, have you been privateering before? The legality of a captured prize does mean you tend to get a bit more money but contesting the prize in a court of law can be annoying. Thankfully I believe that someone hired a lawyer for our little flotilla. He isn't with you is he, by any chance?"