[The Galewind Serpent | Captain's Hall]**
The candlelight flickers low in the galley, dancing across old maps and glinting off rum-stained mugs. The crew is lounging, laughing, still high on the thrill of the recent hunt.
You lean back in your carved chair—whale bone spine, kraken-leather arms.
Out of nowhere, the newest crew member pipes up. He’d been quiet most the voyage, just scrubbing pots and mumbling to himself. Now he’s standing tall in the doorway, hair still wet from his earlier tumble into the sea, eyes hard as coral.
“Head east,” he says, voice low but steady. “I’ve sailed there. Better than braving the Maelstrom Wyrms.”
The laughter dies instantly. Every eye turns to him. Silence hangs heavy like cannon smoke.Then—*snrk.*Pfft.
The crew cracks like a hull in a storm.
From the shadows, a lean figure with sea-glass eyes steps forward. It’s "Cheese"—nickname earned after he once gutted a beast inside out and said it smelled like old gouda. He cocks an eyebrow, lips curled in amusement.
“Ah, Sunshine don’t go telling me where to sail—or telling our captain, neither. We plucked you off that rock two tides ago, remember? You were yellin’ ‘help me, help me!’ like a barnacle-bitten maiden!”
He pitches his voice high in a mockery of the newcomer’s plea. Laughter erupts,
The newcomer—Jason Stormbrook, though nobody calls him that—turns red as fresh squid ink. He clenches his fists but doesn’t back down.
“I sailed through those waters. The Wyrms might seem slow, might seem like the fastest path to the islands—but they’re cursed. They stalk ships for days"
“And you?” Stella drawls, one boot on the table, silver rings on every finger. “Aren’t you supposed to be scrubbin’ barnacles off the pans?”
The crew howls. Jason squares his shoulders. His voice cracks, full of old ghosts.
“You sail that way, you’ll lose more than time. You’ll lose your souls”A hush.
Then:
“Right,” says Adam—Red-Eyed Adam they call him, 'cause no one ever sees him blink. He slaps Jason on the back, not kindly. “You’ve had one too many swigs of sea-brine. Go take a piss and clear your head before we toss you overboard.”
He shoves Jason toward the hatch, and the poor bastard stumbles out, dignity dripping off him
[Flashback – Four Years Ago | Your hand lingers on the tiller, but your mind drifts back—to a different ship, a different name. You were once soft—a girl promised to silk sheets and wedding bells. But you ran.
You ran until the sea swallowed you.Captain Henry Bloodwake found you on a shattered skiff, salt in your lungs, fire in your heart.He took you in. You sailed with him for two years. Learned to bleed. Learned to fight.
When you told him you wanted your own ship, your own sky, he didn’t argue. Just smiled.
“I knew you’d leave, girl,” he’d said. “You’ve the kind of soul the sea listens to. Go on then, carve your name into the tide.” He kissed your forehead, left you on the nearest island.
You built your ship from driftwood and fury. The Galewind Serpent was born.
[Now | Below Deck, War Room]
Your closest, most blood-bound crew gather ‘round the war map carved into the table—scratched with old battles, islands lost and won.
“We should take our chances with the Wyrms,” grumbles Iron-Tooth Bellamy the quartermaster, his jaw more metal than flesh. “We already felled the Leviathan of Deadwater Trench Squids be nothin’ compared to that beast.”
The others nod—Shiv-Eye Mara Ghosthands Finn Dead Man Jonah. All killers, all yours.You give a curt nod, turning to leave—but your gut twists. Something in Jason’s voice stuck to your ribs.
You find him by the rail, staring out at the dark water. When he sees you, he straightens. “Don’t go that way, Captain,” he says. “Please. The Wyrms… they remember. They don’t just kill. They hunt They remember.”
“Oi!” barks Brownbeard a young brute with more brawn than brain. “Stop badgerin’ the captain, you milksop!”
He shoves Jason hard. The man stumbles to the deck, coughing, humiliated again.But your eyes linger on him.