First Blood

[Morgan LaLuna]

The First Battle - Morgan LaFey

Morgan was speaking in hushed tones with one of the sailors of Heathen, gesticulating vaguely as they hunched over looking at a parchment. There was a shared laugh between the two, and the crewman rolled up whatever they'd been looking at, and tucked it into his waistband as he moved off. There was a soft whistle from up in the sails, and Morgan looked up to see… but was immediately brought down to the deck by an older man. In a hiss, the older man spoke. "Stay down." A mist had started to roll over the edge of the ship, onto the deck, into the air. Morgan lifted his head to see, but was yanked back down just as the first shot rang out. He heard a body thud somewhere, and flinched.

Suddenly everything was chaos. Yelling, screaming, bellowing, clanging, shooting… all was noise and smells of metal and powder and blood and wood… he gripped the rail he'd been close to, and stood straight, reaching a hand out before him to point his finger like a gun. Two bolts shot forth, both landing in the same man, and he dropped off the rail into the water below. Morgan panicked to hear the faint splash, but there was no time to think about it. Another bolt, another as they seemed to swarm over everything he owned. Everything he'd worked so hard to achieve. A fire rose in his chest, and he stepped forward, shooting more powerful blasts just as he heard his name screamed across the ship. They were on his ship. His ship. Maybe he was yelling. He wasn't exactly sure, really, what he was thinking, and what he was saying… but Gwen's voice brought him back to himself.

“-o I do?”

He blinked, and felt a panic rise in his throat when he remembered a clatter at his feet. He looked down and toed a dropped sabre, flicking it upward and kicking it toward Gwen. “Here!” His gaze was caught by another body moving in. Again, he shot a bolt. “Take this!” he turned away, and for a moment, his lips gave a silent prayer. They were closing in. He took a shuddering breath, and waited. How close could he let them swarm? He held his hands up, arms crossed loosely in front of him, waiting until he was just within reach before releasing a thunderous blast of force and blowing away most of the men to slam against masts, railings, barrels… He didn’t even know anymore. He didn’t have time to care.

Not all of the men had succumbed to his spell. It had certainly hurt, and the man closest lashed out angrily with his sword. Morgan tried his best to dodge back but he felt the bite of the blade across his chest, and the blinding pain left him momentarily breathless, enough for the man to have stepped forward to punch him with the pommel of his sword. Morgan kicked out at the man, connecting with his knee and putting him off balance just enough to get Morgan those vital seconds to put his hand to the man’s chest, and loose a fiery bolt directly into the man’s chest. He stepped back when the man started gasping for breath, and he heard the sword clatter, so he dipped toward it, dancing down and grasping the handle to bring around. His heart was pounding, and this man was suddenly lurching toward him, and really, he had no choice. His lips mouthed skeletons as he thrust the blade forward.

It didn’t go straight through and immediately kill, like in the movies. It went in with such a strange angle and he watched the moment of realization and immediately cringed away from the scene. The man dropped slowly, and Morgan cried out, pulling the sword free of his body with a solid yank. There was so much blood. He looked over to see if he could find Gwen, and watched her drop her sword, stepping back in horror. He moved closer, and held out the sword to her hilt first. “Take this one. And hold on to me. Whatever you do, hold on to me.” He looked at her seriously, and then back to the battle before them.

And then there was a rumble, from below.

Wholly unconcerned for now, Morgan sent another blast to hit a sailor in their shoulder, another to set off balance someone jumping over from one deck to the next. He slashed his sword and pressed lips together with the spatter of blood. But he wasn’t sure if it was from the man he’d just cut open, or the crewman nearby being shot. His lip trembled, and he stepped further back as they were being shut in, encircled. “Gwen!” he called back over his shoulder, readying her for action… He opened his mouth to start a spell, when there was the crashing of wood, the screams of men below, and a distinctive bellowing.

“HOT DOG!” Up from below came the little galeb duhr, swinging his arms excitedly as he ran, bowling over man of the pirates starting to close in on Morgan. He did not hesitate to start climbing the mast, hanging on one side as he exclaimed over the din. “AAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY YOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYYYYYYS!”

The call seemed to work as a rallying cry for the crew. There was a renewed bout of fighting, and what sailors hadn’t been trampled beneath stone feet were starting to thin dramatically. Morgan gave a relieved laugh, and he found that his spine straightened. There was hope. A chance. With Hot Dog’s arrival, it felt like the tides were turning in the favor of the Heathen. Morgan cheered along with the crew, and raised his arm, seeming to pull from the very sides of the deck large tentacles that writhed in the air, threatening those below. Predictably, there was a scattering, and the battle was further pushed in their favor.

Morgan's other hand lifted, and his illusion seemed to swell, tentacles reaching high into the area before slamming onto an empty part of the desk. He watched closely to get the sound just right, the smack of wet flesh hitting the wood and cracking it beneath strength and sheer weight. Morgan started to move one of the illusions toward a man that was fighting a crewmate, but felt a dull thud in the back of his skull, losing the concentration and watching the illusion fade to nothing as he tilted toward the deck. His knees hit first, and he scrambled for the blood soaked sword, fingers clasping right around it when the body of the man landed heavily next to him, throat cut clean from jaw to jaw.

The new captain paled at the man bleeding to death next to him, and scrambled to his feet to see Bosun already moved on to his next skirmish, beating back a sailor with a particularly jagged and mean looking dagger. He looked around, and found that much of the fighting had been done. The deck was slick with blood, and there were men gasping for air here and there among the dead. Indiscriminately, Morgan found the wounded, and gently healed his own crew as much as he dared, and stabilized those that were of the attackers. As he was gently pulling a young man from the brink, one of his own stopped next to him, and held up his sword. "Easier to kill'em…" he started… but Morgan just shook his head, and scooted back. "Tie him up with the others. This is done." He finally stood, and surveyed the damage. Not much to the ship itself, but the wood was a very distinct color it had not been before, blood like an oil slick in the night as it pooled darkly around. Rain was probably just too much to ask right now. Morgan found Gwen in the aftermath, shaking nearly as hard as he was, and hugged her tight as soon as he could get close enough to do so. He said not a word while he held her, but as soon as he stepped back, he took a look around. "Some of you will take the prisoners to the brig. Gwen, you're going with them. Keep those people alive best you can. Let's get some people looking around that ship, too. Anything not nailed down is ours! We earned it!" He motioned to the other ship grandly, and men started to climb onto the abandoned vessel in search of treasures as more. Morgan watched them clamber over, and looked to Bosun as he approached his side, hands folded behind his back like a rich man inspecting his product. Morgan looked up to him, then to his quarters, and started that way, only pausing when the large half-orc cleared his throat.

"You did good, boy. Probably best we shorten shifts in the nest, though. This could have been much worse." He walked away to survey the damage below caused by Hot Dog, who was just thumping onto the deck from a slide down the mast. The little earth elemental tottered toward Morgan, and the acrobat threw his arms around the creature. "Hot Dog. Thank God you're here." A low, gravelly voice spoke as a big rock hand patted his back.

"Moooooooo. Maaaaaallllll." He then turned as he said the second name, and started to walk… until he tumbled right off the deck. Morgan ran to the side of the ship to see, but it was too late. The galeb duhr had already sunk below the waves. Like a stone. "Good luck, buddy…" he called quietly into the water lapping at the sides of the Heathen. There were cheers as Hot Dog departed, calls and praise following him. Morgan looked down to the state of his clothing, cut, stained, ruined… he grimaced, but moved away from the edge, looking to the crew already working diligently with bodies, pulling up buckets… he rolled up his sleeves, and stepped in to help. It would be a very long night.

[Gwen Kasady]

The First Battle - Gwen Kasady

Gwen was below deck with the boatswain in one of the ships holds. Down on her knees, most of her upper body was stuck into a bunch of barrels and half of that was twisted at an angle as she looked up through and at them. Those crystal blue eyes squinting and nose wrinkling, she tried to determine if the bunch was secured properly. The boatswain, on the other hand, was standing next to those barrels, propped up on an elbow while his head slanted at an odd angle to admire the view.

“Figured it out yet, girl?” he asked after some time.

“What? Ugh! Hold on!” Gwen called out, twisting and writhing her way backward out of the tangled mess of braces and barrels. Once she had snaked her way out, she pushed off the floor and stood, turning to face the smiling man. “What?”

“I said, have you figured it out yet? If the barrels are secure,” he added, as if she would have been doing something else under there other than checking them.

“Y…,” blue eyes darted towards the tower next to them, then back to him. “Yes. They’re secure.” She’d said the words, but her face betrayed her. Manicured brows worried in the middle and she bit at the corner of her bottom lip after she’d said them. There was nothing in, around or up there that told her that anything was not secure.

“Ye sure about that, girl?” the man asked again, the grin on his lips splitting and showing those pearly white teeth inside his chiseled jaw.

“Yes,” Gwen huffed. She knew that grin, all too well if she thought about it. It meant she was right, but he wasn’t going to let her know that so easily. “And my name is Gwen.” She added, for the umteenth time.

“That it is,” he agreed, one hand coming up to rub at that pale green chin as he looked over at the stack of barrels he leaned on with the other. It seemed, possibly, that he was pondering something as he squinted through those crags and cracks. Finally, he straightened, the hand closest to the barrels coming up and giving one of them a sound smack with his hand as he looked back to the girl and grinned. “Good job, Gwendy!” He was sure he’d heard her called that somewhere before.

“Oh my God,” Gwen said, intermingled with a sigh. Her hand came up and caught her face as it fell and she shook her head. One time. She just wanted someone on this boat to call her Gwen. Once. Besides Morgan. He didn’t count.

The boatswain gave a long, slow chuckle at the reaction of the girl. She had to learn these things, but oh how he delighted at her reactions when she got frustrated. Giving her a little bit to wallow in it, he turned his head to look across the hold, those fingers dragging over skin with the motion.

“Next, we’re going to go...back...over…,” he started, his words trailing off into silence.

“Not rat patrol! You know I hate…,” she said, almost whining. She hated rat patrol. Yeah. Yeah. She knew on a boat like this it was a necessity, but...rats man! She hated rats, well, unless they came from the streets and were cute, like her.

“Shh!” he stressed, the sound cutting off anything further from Gwen.

“What?” she asked.

“Shut up, girl! Listen!” he said, straining to say it. When Gwen looked up at the man, she saw that his gaze had strayed upward, eyes panic stricken as they searched the wooden deck above them. Knowing better than to utter anything else at that point, she too looked up, searching, though she knew not for what. For a moment, there was nothing aside from the creaking of the hull as it swayed to and fro in the waters they sailed. Then, suddenly, the color drained from her face and eyes as wide as saucers turned to the boatswain’s mate. Was that...gunfire??

“Damnit! Not yet! They’re not ready!” he scowled. In an instant, the still as stone man’s head snapped towards Gwen and he glared at her. “Stay here, girl.” he ordered, and with that, the boatswain’s mate moved with the agility and urgency of a man of his stature.

“What?? Here?” Gwen shouted back at the man in panic. “What’s going on?” she pleaded. Something was happening. Something bad, but the man was already gone, up the stairs and out to the deck above. The girl took a few steps back, looking left and right for somewhere to go, to hide, to...she didn’t know what to do! Leaning against the very barrels she had earlier been entrenched in, she sunk into a crouch and stared up at the nothingness the top of those stairs offered. She’d heard the definite crack of a gun being fired but...she didn’t even know how to secure barrels properly yet!

“It’s ok. Everything’s ok. Bosun knows what to do. Morgan will...Morgan!” she blurted out. Morgan was up there! Quickly, Gwen stood up from that crouch, staring at those stairs. She bounced lightly, hands bobbing in front of her nervously. “Ok. Morgan and Bosun will know what to do, right? Right!” she convinced herself. Slowly, she willed her feet to move, carrying her over to those stairs where she stopped for a moment. Her hand reached out, sliding over the wooden banister as she placed one foot on the bottom step and looked up. There was another shot and she flinched, brows wrinkling as her teeth attacked her bottom lip. Step by perilous step, she made her way to the top of those stairs slowly until her head emerged from the hold and she looked around.

From her vantage point, where she shouldn’t have been able to see them, she saw sails. But no. The Heathen’s sails were black. The canvas her eyes fell upon was as red as blood. Hauling herself further up those stairs, she looked about nervously, eyes flicking to the scene that revealed itself upon her emergence. The crew of the Heathen scrambled about, shouting orders back and forth. Some were at the railing with rifles aimed at the other ship that now ran alongside them. There too, she could see the crew of this other ship lined along that railing as puffs of smoke were released when they fired. They were firing on the Heathen!

In shock and utter disbelief, Gwen rounded the banister of the staircase and wandered out onto the deck. Stupid girl. Eyes wide and hands out in front of her, mindless footfalls carried her to a different section of railing and she placed her hands there, staring at the nightmare across from them with red sails. “Whaat the fuuu….,” she began, but her words were cut short as a hook thudded into the hull just there in front of her. The sound and the impact and splintering wood caused Gwen to flinch, throwing her hands up in the air and screaming from the sudden fright it had given her.

“I said stay below deck, girl!” Bosun growled, snatching the back of her shirt and flinging her back to the deck behind him. Landing on her backside and skidding several feet, Gwendy stared up at the man as he brought a sword down on the rope attached to that hook, cleaving it from its mooring. “They mean to board us! Look alive boys!” he yelled, and then, as before, he was off, skirting the railing and searching for more attachments. Her hands finding the deck, she used her feet to scoot back a little further as she frantically looked around. There were more crew members, some at the rigging and others hauling up weaponry from a different hold. Searching still, she finally caught sight of Morgan, but it was too late.

Her gaze went beyond him to another section of the ship’s railing where she saw a man she had never seen before crawl up and over from the other side. The man spilled sea water over the side with him and in his teeth he clenched a dagger, eyes ablaze with murderous intent. Then there was another. And then another! All around her she could hear a cacophony of noise as men shouted, guns fired and more hooks thudded into the hull, heralding the arrival of still more men from this other ship.

“Morgan!” she called out, her voice shrill and scared as she clambered up from the deck and ran to him. The Captain of the Heathen, with feet planted firmly, twisted his body and cast his hand toward each new pirate that boarded the ship. Eldritch blasts, one after another, found their marks as he screamed, “Get the fuck away from my ship!” One sailor was sent back over the railing from whence he’d come. Another was flung against that very railing with a sickening crack before he slumped over, dead. But there were still more as they seemed to file over the edge in ever growing numbers.

“Morgan, Morgan, Morgan,” Gwen floundered, reaching the man and clenching that billowing shirt in her hands. “What do I do?” she pleaded. She should have stayed below deck as Bosun had ordered, but it was too late for that now.

“Here! Take this!” Morgan yelled over his shoulder at her as he cast yet another blast towards another attacker. With his boot, he nimbly stuck the toe of it between deck and blade and tossed her a sabre that had clattered down from one of the attackers hands he had felled. Flinching again, hands went wildly into the air and scrambled for the airborne blade as it sailed towards her. Catching it, miraculously, she ignorantly held the handle with both hands, blade stuck straight out in front of her. Turning, she placed her back against Morgan’s and eyes went wide as she caught sight of the other side of the ship, where more pirates emerged over the rails there too. There were too many, and they were growing in number!

Almost frozen in place, back against her Captain’s, Gwen watched as one of those attacking pirates dropped to the deck and settled horribly yellowed eyes directly on her. As he stalked towards her, taking that dagger from his teeth, she watched in horror as he made his way over and lifted the weapon to strike. Before he could slash her with his blade though, a nimble Bosun passed behind and shouldered the would be assailant, putting all of his weight into the blow. It was enough to knock the sailor off balance and impale him on the tip of that sabre in her hands.

Gwen went rigid, watching how easily metal pierced clothing and skin and the man sunk towards her, his body seemingly devouring the blade that now sliced through him like wet paper. Looking up to the man’s face, she noticed the look of shock and horror etched onto his features that mirrored her own. After a moment of stunned silence, held in the icy grip of fear, the girl watched as that look of bewilderment twisted slowly into another scowl and he raised his blade again. Before he could deliver the blow, she gripped the hilt of the saber and pushed forward and down before turning and letting it go. Watching as the man fell to the deck, blade and all, she backed away in horror as he stretched one hand in her direction and then slowly stilled, eyes still open and laying in a growing pool of his own blood.

“Take this one. And hold onto me. Whatever you do, hold onto me.” Morgan said, holding another sword towards her, hilt first. With her eyes still locked on the dead pirate she had just impaled and killed, it took her a moment to register that the Captain was actually talking to her. Looking over to him with her mouth still agape, she blinked a few times and then looked down to the offered sword. Reality set it quickly and all the sounds of the battle raging around them returned to her. Reaching down, she gripped the hilt of that sword. With her other hand, she reached for his shoulder, her fingers closing over the material tightly as she looked up at him and nodded firmly. “Got it!” she exclaimed as he turned back to the battle before them.

And then there was a rumble, from below.

Morgan sent two more blasts at attackers, one hitting one in the shoulder and another twisting a man off balance as he attempted to jump from deck to deck. When the acrobat raised his sword to slash at yet another man, Gwen’s eyes went wide as she looked to their right, seeing another pirate running for Morgan with his sword raised. Lifting her sword and bringing it up and across her body, she slashed at the man before he could attack. Her blade landing squarely between neck and shoulder, she watched him claw desperately at the erupting fountain of blood before he too fell to the deck and eventually stilled.

Ice blue eyes stared at the man, the look on her face not so horrified as with the first, when she felt that rumbling and her gaze fell to the deck where it seemed to be coming from. Panicked eyes searching the blood soaked wood, she was unaware of the growing number of pirates closing in on and encircling the pair.

“Gwen!” Morgan called back over his shoulder, calling her to action.

“Morgan!?” Gwen replied, her voice a mixture of an answer to his call and rapidly growing concern. Her frantic gaze continuing to search, there was the crashing of wood, the screams of men below, and a distinctive bellowing.

“HOT DOG!” Up from below came the little galeb dhur, swinging his arms excitedly as he ran, bowling over many of the pirates starting to close in on Morgan and Gwen. He did not hesitate to start climbing the mast, hanging on one side as he exclaimed over the din. “AAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY YOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYYYYYYS!”

At the cry from Hot Dog, Gwen’s eyes shot to the hold he emerged from and watched slack jawed as he waved his arms and began bowling over pirate after pirate that had surrounded them. Up the mast she watched him go and at his second bellowing yell, she looked out over the deck to see their crew fighting harder against the swarm and quickly garnering a retreat from them. A relieved laugh came from Morgan and she looked over to see his spine straighten and a look of relief wash over his face. A look that told her there was a chance. There was hope. A small smile began to creep onto her lips at the sound of Morgan cheering with the crew and she looked out across the deck at the other cheering men.

That glimmer of a smile faded though, when tentacles seemed to emerge from either side of the deck and rise in the air, looming dangerously as they twisted and writhed. Not believing what she was seeing, Gwen moved towards Morgan again and placed her hand upon his shoulder as she continued to stare skyward. When her Captain lifted his other hand and the illusory tentacles swelled, ice blue eyes shifted back and forth between the two. She had almost put two and two together when something slammed into her shoulder, twisted her halfway around and sent her crashing to the deck. Catching herself with her hands, she twisted around and looked back to see what it was that had slammed into her.

At first she saw Morgan, crawling on hands and knees towards a blood soaked sword. Next though, her eyes fell upon the man that had hit them both. Throat slit from jaw to jaw, unseeing eyes stared to the heavens as he lay in the growing pool of blood that seeped from that wound. Twisting further, Gwen looked back just in time to see Bosun turn and begin fighting off another pirate with a particularly gnarled and blood soaked dagger.

Bosun gone, the girl again looked to Morgan as she slowly made her way back to her feet. Following his gaze, she too looked out at the Carnage that had been wrought. The bloodied mural before them that both they and the crew had had a hand in painting. As she looked on, tears welling in those once bright blue eyes, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. When she looked, she saw her Captain going forth, searching out the wounded and proceeding to help and heal them one by one.

Gwen took a step in that direction, and then another, but then she stopped and looked down at the fallen man to her right. The blood had ceased to spread, but the sword was still stuck through him and his hand remained close to her feet where he had reached for her before the end. Taking a step back from that ghastly hand, she turned and looked to her left to see the latest victim of the fight. Eyes still open. Still staring blindly at the sky and she started to shake at the sight of them and the memories she knew would never fade.

As she stood there, shaking, right hand holding left arm, she looked between the two corpses and began backing away and shaking her head. Because her attention was stolen by the gruesome pair, she didn’t see Morgan approaching. When he did though, opening his arms to wrap her in them, her gaze shot to him in surprise before she lunged for him, wrapping her arms around him to squeeze him tight against her. Eyes shut tight, she buried her face against his shoulder and clenched at the material of his bloodied shirt as if his embrace would make it all go away. Alas, it wouldn’t, and when Morgan finally pulled away she looked back and forth between him and the other men.

"Some of you will take the prisoners to the brig. Gwen, you're going with them. Keep those people alive best you can. Let's get some people looking around that ship, too. Anything not nailed down is ours! We earned it!" Morgan ordered. Looking to her Captain, Gwen nodded silently as she brought a hand up to drag a knuckle across one corner of her eye and then looked to the men she would be taking the task up with.

As the rest of the crew went about boarding the flanking vessel in search of treasure and anything not nailed down, Gwen and her rag tag group of able bodied crewmembers started shuffling the injured below deck to make arrangements and care for them. Taking it upon herself to help one of their own, she pulled an injured man’s arm over her shoulder and began helping him that way when she stopped and looked up to find Bosun staring down at her meaningfully.

“You’ll get through this, and you’ll be stronger for it. I promise.” said the large, half-orc boatswain’s mate in a matter of fact tone. The girl's mouth fell open as if she was about to say something, but he was already gone. Standing there, she looked back to see him fold his hands behind him and move to Morgan’s side. What was said she couldn’t hear, but she watched for a moment longer before she nodded and went back to her task of helping the injured man along.

Below deck, Gwen and the few other crew members struggled to find space for them all. There were cots in some of the cells, sure, but there were certainly more that needed to lie down than there were beds. Gathering up crates, blankets, boxes and anything that wasn’t nailed down, the street rat turned First Mate fought for another form of treasure that night. Miraculously, she and her small group were able to make every wounded sailor as comfortable as they could for the night. Still, even though everyone had settled, there were bandages that needed to be changed, water that needed to be brought from the galley and cries that needed to be heard. It was going to be a very long night.