The ocean was calm, though the sky was filled with fog. A few hours ago, the Mors crew had caught sight of a ship carrying goods, and after Captain Orestis commanded them to follow them, the crew had been laying low. Alkis was currently up in the crow’s nest, studying the ship with his spyglass. The fog made it hard to see, but it cloaked their ship quite well.

With a sigh, he looked down, only to have a flurry of feathers nearly hit his face. He batted it away, muttering a slew of curses. The undead raven stared at him, its eyes hollowed and empty. Alkis frowned, before he heard Orestis’ voice come from the raven. “I think it’s high time we made our move. Can you knock them off course?”

Alkis grinned, sliding his spyglass closed before looking towards the ship. “Leave it to me, Captain.”

He raised his hands, feeling the familiar pull of magic. The innate sensation bloomed up in his chest, and he could feel the electric shocks travelling down from his chest to his arms, and then his fingertips. The sky began to darken, turning a sickening green. Alkis laughed, watching as lightning broke the sky, the clap of thunder booming around them. The fight was on.

✦✦✦

Alkis stared down at the captive before him. They were unconscious, steadily breathing in and out. Michalis had captured them, and truthfully, Alkis was very happy that he had. They were attractive, exactly Alkis’ type. His type being anything with warm blood and working genitalia, after all.

He chuckled, kneeling down. His hand reached up, and he gently caressed the captive’s neck, feeling their pulse. “Great Hells, look at you…ripe for the picking, eh?” Alkis licked his lips, leaning forward. His dark red curls spilled over his shoulders, the tip of his tricorn touching the captive’s forehead. “Wake up soon, yeah? When you’re sleeping it ain’t no fun.”