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Well, here's the next chapter.

CHAPTER 6: King Grentar

Zelda awoke, to her incredible surprise, in a bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she took a gander at her surroundings.
The room was small and made of red stone. Besides a small table that held the Great Fairy’s Sword and her backpack on it and a pair of chairs, the room was empty. Morning light streamed through the sole window. Looking out, she saw that she was several levels up in the cliffside of the Gerudo valley.
Ironically enough, Zelda was thankful that whatever Gerudo knocked her out last night had done so. She was fully rested, but needed a clean set of clothes and a bath, pronto. It was unbecoming for a princess to be such a dirty, sweaty mess as she was, but of course, Zelda was no stranger to being such.
“Looks like our little guest has woken up, huh?” Zelda turned to see a Gerudo standing in the doorway. But this was no ordinary Gerudo: this was a man. He stood approximately six feet tall and was clad in white, loose-fitting clothes. He looked to be about thirty and was rather dashing. His red hair was bushy and his skin was a deep tan. Zelda recognized him as King Grentar. “Princess.” He addressed her, bowing. There was something about the smoothness in his voice that bothered Zelda, but she shoved the feeling to the side.
“I do apologize for what happened last night.” He continued. “The night guards are a bit, uh, overzealous. But, no matter what your business is here, I will see to it that you are shown the utmost hospitality. Your horse is in our stables as we speak and your provisions have been resupplied.”
“Thank you, your highness. If you could direct me to a place where I can wash up I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’ll have someone bring some breakfast up later. Simply go down this hall to the left, down four floors and there is a private hot spring second door on the right.”
“Thanks. Just make sure nobody takes my sword.”
“Of course.”

Later, after a long soak in the hot spring (yes, she’s on a limited schedule, but that’s no reason to ignore your own well-being) and washing of her garments, Zelda headed back up to her room, feeling quite refreshed.
To her surprise, King Grentar was still there, sitting at the table with a tray of pastries before him.
“So? I trust it was to your liking.”
“It was, your highness.” Zelda said, taking a seat and a pastry.
“Those springs are wonderful, if I do say so myself. All you easterners give us a bad reputation, but my kingdom is no less beautiful than Hyrule. Perhaps even more so.”
“If you like sand.” Zelda said, unamused by the King’s conversation, though he seemed to take it as a joke and began to laugh.”
“Hahahaha, I suppose, Princess, I suppose. My people are happy here: I supply their every need.”
Zelda finished her pastry, grabbed some of the others, and put them in her backpack. She had figured out Grentar’s game and wanted to get out of there ASAP.
“Sorry to be quick to depart, but I am in a hurry.” She stood up from the table. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Are you sure you must leave so soon?” he stood up as well. “Could you not stay just one more day?” Zelda shot him a glance that screamed as much POedness as you could possibly put into a glance without saying anything.
“You must be a desperate man, Grentar.” She said scornfully. “Your ploy is as transparent as a starving chu chu. You think I haven’t had men chasing after me? You think I haven’t gotten marriage proposals before? Well, I’ll tell you the same thing I told all those others. Not on your Diet Dr. Pepper life, chauvinist pig!"
And she permanently ended his lineage with a steel-toed boot.

Enjoy.

HAH
Pretty harsh, but what a line from Zelda xD

LOL, Owned. Awesome.

Taivyx wrote:HAH
Pretty harsh, but what a line from Zelda xD

Ah, yes, a fine moment for our princess. Acutally, that little line was inspired by a fanart piece for Avatar that has one of the main characters breaking his girlfriend out of jail, but just as he pulls out his sword, he sees her fanning herself with a pile of slaughtered guards behind her. She says "What made you think I need rescuing?", calls him a chauvanist pig, and kicks him in the crotch. Well, now that that's over and done with...

CHAPTER 6: All Is Not Well

The snow of Hyrule Field was kicked up in a flurry as Zelda urged Liath Macha onward toward Castle Town. Looking over her shoulder briefly, she swore before urging Liath Macha faster. Behind her were a dozen Gerudo archers on horseback. Zelda wasn’t surprised, of course: you can’t just kick the Gerudo King in the crotch and expect to get away scot-free. Though Liath Macha could have easily outrun them, two days of almost constant riding put the hurt even on him. The pursuers were almost within shooting range.
Scratch that. They were within shooting range. The crackle of an ice arrow sent a crawl up Zelda’s spine as said projectile soared over her head, missing by inches. Gritting her teeth, she set her eyes on the wall of Castle Town before her. The Gerudo would break off their chase if she just got within range of the walls.
Just then, a sickening howl was heard from behind. Zelda turned around to see a group of Dammed jump off a hill, right into the Gerudo formation. There ones were a newer breed: instead of legs, they had a single wheel, and replaced their arms with a massive, fanged maw. Actually, they looked quite foolish.
“Well, that was convenient.” Zelda mentioned to Liath Macha, pulling him to a halt. Grabbing her gilded bow from her saddlebag, she strung an arrow on it and aimed at the two battling groups.
“Aether shabashani oroni mata!” she whispered as she let the arrow fly. The projectile soared upwards, shining a brilliant gold, and then split into five separate parts, which arced down on the fighters and then exploded with five bubbles of golden light.
“Was that absolutely necessary?” Gibso said from her hood.
“Maybe, maybe not. Probably gonna give us ten years of bad relations with the Gerudo, in any case. Let’s keep going.”

When she entered the western gate of Castle Town, Zelda immeadiately realized something was wrong. Nobody was out in the streets. The entire city was silent.
“What? What’s going on?”
“Hell if I know, Gibso, but I’ve read enough out and about that…oh Diet Dr. Pepper. Diet Dr. Pepper Diet Dr. Pepper Diet Dr. Pepper! Ya! Ya!”

Zelda sprinted through the halls of the castle, not particularly caring if she knocked down whoever was in her way. Skidding into the infirmary, she saw that it was full to capacity with infected civilians. And among them were no other than her mother and sister in adjacent beds. Zelda walked over, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Hi, Mom. She said, not knowing anything else to say.
“Zelda? Oh, Zelda, you’re okay. I was beginning to get worried.”
Zelda managed a half-smile. Even though she was only days away from death, her mother was still looking out for her daughters’ well-being over her own.
“Sis, are we gonna get better?” Teta asked.
“Of course. You got me working on this. You’ll be better in no time.” This of course, was somewhat hollow, as, though Zelda had not been infected or injured the entire time, time was of the essence and she still had Nayru’s temple to visit, which meant Yetis, which meant a long of wasted time. But, Teta was her little sister, so even hollow encouragement was better than none at all. “Don’t worry. I’m all over it.”

Enjoy.

Nice. I love what she did with the arrow.

Next chapter. I'm afraid that I'm losing steam with these stories-I've been working on my book a lot lately.

CHAPTER 7: Yeti
Zelda could not stay long in Hyrule Town and after a mere hour or so had set out north. There was nothing she could do here, and was only wasting time. Letting Liath Macha earn a well deserved rest, she took out her backup steed, the fiery chestnut Benethar.
The mountains were within her sight when the snow began to kick up as a fresh storm moved in. It was a big one.
“Hey, Princess, aren’t you going to stop?” Gibso said as she pulled her hood up.
“Of course not.” She snapped her fingers, letting a small flame of Din’s fire pop out of them. “I’m prepared. Benethar is just as good as Liath Macha. There’s a yeti village between us and the temple-we’ll stay there for the night.”
And so they continued onward.

The storm continued throughout the rest of the day, but fortunately did not turn into a full-blown blizzard. Night had already fallen be the time she had entered the village.
It was a slipshod affair, a cluster of large huts made of hide and bone tucked away in a small valley. Some of the huts expelled columns of smoke from the holes in their roofs.
“Hey!” A large voice bellowed. “You dere! Who you?” A massive Yeti guard with a huge, albeit crude, club and lantern walked out from the gloom
“Princess Zelda of Hyrule. I’m traveling through the area and need a place to stay for the night.”
“Uh, hmm, Princess Zelda uhm, you come wif’ me.” He began to walk into the village.

Woot! Yetis! Yeti and Yeto were my favotrite characters from TP.

Don't worry about this story. Update when you can. You have your priorities.

Well, I apologize for no update this week. If I get around to it, I'll think of something.

No problem! Update when you can.

The thread...It liiiiiiives!!!
But, all joking aside, I do have some bad news. I will not be finishing my Loz story. Yeah, I'm sad about it too, but I just don't have any drive for it anymore.
But on a good note it will be replaced by another work of mine that you will see through to the end. It is actually a separate part of the story I posted last year at about this time, same universe, but it takes place almost three hundred years earlier. Granted, you will have a lot of questions probably, so don't hesitate to ask me. And since i hope to get this thing published (eventually), if you can be in-depth in your comments, please be so. it's good to have plenty of reviewers.

Anywho,

453 A.D.C.
Thirteenth Day of the Moon of Long Days
Idralic Ocean, approx. 800 km northeast of Port Go’thalurin

In the short history of airships, perhaps there had not been one as spectacular as the Cloud of Heaven. It had taken the finest shipsmiths six years to build the two-hundred-seventy-five meter luxury cruiser, and the equivalent of fifty-five million d’chentari, or seventy-five million Anamic alabasa to fund. The ship was clad from stem to stern in the sandy cream of Sanx porcelain with solid gold inlays. The six massive magitech engines were the finest money could buy and science could create. There were no second-class rooms on her, nor third-class, nothing but first.
The ship cruised just a hundred-twenty meters above the surf on the second day of her maiden voyage. The morning sun shone through the cloudless sky and reflected brilliantly off of her ceramic surface. A flock of Geyrson’s Albatrossi lazily circled the craft. Though she could hold several thousand passengers, the Cloud of Heaven now held only several hundred. They included the grandson of the Sado Ejshol, and the heir apparents of fifteen of the most powerful Sanx noble families. There were other noble passengers of other species, but for the most part the passengers were Sanx. The Sado had demanded it, as it was through his coffers that the Cloud was funded. Those passengers were probably all in the Great Lounge, eating their gourmet breakfast.
Captain Os Palon stood in the bridge looking out at the Irdalic before him. The view was spectacular, as the bridge had a three hundred sixty degree faceted crystal window dome. Captain Os was an older Sanx, his hair was graying at the temples, but he was the most capable airship captain in Soandad, which was the sole reason he was here.
“I trust we are on course, P’amod?” he said to the navigator.
“Correct sir. No unusual weather patterns to take into account so far.”
“Good. Send word for...” The captain was interrupted by the fsssssh of one of the communication vacuum tubes, the one marked “crow’s nest”. The note inside said, ‘Unidentified ship coming from the west’. Captain Os grabbed a spyglass and lifted to his eye and pointed it at the blotch in the west.
The other ship was much smaller, less than a quarter of the length of the Cloud of Heaven or less. Unlike the Cloud, which was gracefully shaped much like a whale, this one was more angular and sleeker than the gigantic Cloud. Its dull metal plating was painted slate-grey and blue, and blended quite well with the waves below.
Hac Doron opened up the radio line.
“Unidentified ship, this is the Cloud of Heaven. Please identify yourself at once.” The response was mere static. Hac sent the message again. Still no response.
The unidentified ship darted underneath the Cloud, falling out of sight for a few moments before popping up on her starboard side and climbing directly above the bridge, flying at the exact speed as the Cloud and just ten or fifteen meters above it. Hac began to send the message again.
He was drowned out by the sound of shattering glass as a half dozen hooked mooring cables were shot down from the other ship, punching holes through the dome and sending the bridge crew scattering for cover from the debris. A high pitched whine filled the air as a half dozen figures zipped down the lines.
Captain Os stood up from his crouched position to greet a pistol five centimeters from his face.
The man holding the weapon was a Marudem in his late thirties. His skin was a bright blue and orange, and his silver hair was shaved down to fuzz. A grey piece of cloth was wrapped around his head, covering his left eye. His clothes and jacket were ragged and dirty, without decoration. He was broadly built, with a chiseled face that held the faint traces of a smile in his mouth. In his other hand he held a semi-automatic rifle, which was pointed at P’amod Porap, the navigator. The other five individuals were also Marudem and were likewise pointing their weapons at the bridge crew.
“You understand Anamic?” He said in a gruff voice. “Just nod your head.” Captain Os nodded. He understood the language of the northerners, but never made it a point to learn how to speak it. Though he had a loaded firearms shoved in his face, the captain showed no signs of fear.
“Son of a Diet Dr. Pepper.” He growled at the pirate. The Marudem jabbed the gun into Os’ forehead, hard.
“Sorry, bud. Don’t speak Sanx. Grab that intercom.” The captain didn’t move. The pirate sighed, rolled his eyes, and fired his rifle. There was a wet thud as Amod Porap fell to the floor, a bullet through his head. The pirate jabbed the pistol again.
“Are you deaf, man? We’re not joking here. Now, I’m not really in the mood to kill anybody else, so just pick up that intercom, repeat what I say, and the rest of you get out of this alive. Passengers too.”
Captain Os bowed his head in defeat and grabbed the intercom from its desk.
“Attention crew and passengers of the Cloud of Heaven.” The pirate began.
“Attention crew and passengers of the Cloud of Heaven.” Captain Os repeated.
“It is my deepest regret to say that we have been boarded by pirates.”
“It is my deepest regret to say that we have been boarded by pirates.”
“They have agreed not to harm any passengers or crew so long as they forfeit any valuables they have.
“They have agreed not to harm any passengers or crew so long as they forfeit any valuables they have.”
“Any resistance will be punished swiftly and effectively.”
“Any resistance will be punished swiftly and effectively.”
“That’s the way, captain. Hey! Megas!” He shouted to another blue-and-orange Marudem, a male in his early thirties with a leather aviator cap, goggles, and scarf.
“Yes, Captain?’
“You hold things down here while the rest of us go search the ship. Gilgas, signal for the rest of the guys upstairs.”
“Aye sir.” Another pirate grabbed a zipline and was winched back up to the pirates’ ship.
“The rest of you, come with me.” He walked out of the bridge with the sounds of more pirates zipping down behind him.
The majority of the passengers, having heard the news given to them by Captain Os, complied easily. The pirate captain was actually quite amused at how Spiritless the rich were, as some had actually locked themselves in their rooms and left convenient piles of their valuables outside in the hall, but also incredibly disgusted at those who refused to do things the easy way and treasured their possessions more than their own lives. Those who fought would quickly meet their ends.
The pirate crew, now with thirty individuals or more onboard the Cloud began working full pace. Like a well-oiled machine they tore through the ship, stripping walls of their paintings and tapestries, cabinets of their fine chaani, closets of their silk robes, passengers of their gold and jewels, pantries of their food, and cargo holds of their crates. The stolen loot was then, were it large, loaded onto the pirates’ shuttle that had made its way into the landing bay, and if it was small, stuffed into the pirates’ pockets.
The pirate captain made his way up the Grand Staircase, not particularly caring if his dirty boots left muddy, oily smears on the hand-crafted mahogany paneling. On the left balcony at the top overlooking the staircase, a group of pirates were trying to force their way into a large set of double doors that had been forcibly locked and blockaded from the inside.
“Captain!” called the aviator cap Marudem known as Megas. “We’ve got some trouble with this one. Fortified himself in there pretty good.”
“Mm. Anybody seen Jaw?”
“He was supposed to be clearing up what’s left on B-deck, Captain.” A human pirate grunted as he tried prying the hinges apart with a crowbar. The captain walked over to the balcony and looked out over the staircase.
“Hey, Jaw! JAW!” A Kvee who was wearing several kilos of stolen jewelry on his person popped into view. “You got some charges left, Jaw?” The Kvee nodded. “Then get the hell up here!” The captain chucked.
Jaw strolled over to the door, pulled a small qothekin detonator from a belt pocket, and jammed it in the door.
“Heheh, one extra-spicy door breach coming up. Move it people.” The pirates rolled to the side and covered their ears as he lit the fuse. One explosion later there was a two-meter hole punched in the wall. The doors and barricade were nothing more than charred rubble. The pirates quickly moved inside.
A young male Sanx was crouched on the silken sheets of the four poster bed, a pistol in his hand. Though he tried to look as menacing as possible, it was obvious that he was quivering with fear, and that he was going to cause no real trouble.
“Heh, kids these days.” Megas said as he nonchalantly shot the Sanx in the leg. “Looks like we’ll be leaving those sheets, eh, Captain?”

The pirate captain looked down at the Cloud of Heaven from the bridge of his ship as the last zipline was pulled back into the ship. Their job was complete.
“Shuttle’s back in.” Megas said. “What are your orders, Captain?”
“Does anybody know where the main fuel tanks are?”
“Yeah. They’re right about…” the Marudem searched for the place for a moment. “there.” he pointed to a point about three-quarters of the way down the ship.”
“Very well.”
“Planning to sink it, Captain?
“Why not? If the Cloud gets out of this, she will fly again, and then we’ll have to do this all over." He opened up the comm. line to the keel gunnery station. “Three shots, 130cmAP-explosive rounds, two degrees above the tanks.”
“Aye, sir.” A voice crackled from the other side.
Twenty seconds later the entire ship shook as the cannon fired. The first shot cracked the thick, albeit brittle, ceramic shell of the Cloud right above the fuel tanks. The second shot splintered the casing, causing jagged chunks to fall off into the sea in a powdery mist. The captain knew that by know the passengers and crew would be scuttling for the life rafts and shuttles. A few might get out before the third shot blew the fuel tanks. A few more might get out before the smoldering husk sank to the bottom of the Idralic. But frankly, he didn’t care that much. If they died, it was their fault.
The ship fired its last shot. The back quarter of the Cloud of Heaven exploded into a brilliant cloud of orange flame and black smoke. The massive ship began to sink in the air, slowly but surely falling to the waves beneath.
“We’re done here. Let’s get going.” The captain barked to the helmsman as the Cloud of Heaven died.

Enjoy

Nice chapter, I'm enjoying this little series.

Indeed, very good. Which of your story universes is this?

Hebes24 wrote:Indeed, very good. Which of your story universes is this?

That of my first story. Not the first on this thread, the actual first one.

Anywho, glad you're liking it! Next chapter.

453 A.D.C.
Seventeenth Day of the Moon of Long Days
Idralic Ocean, approx. 250 km west of Descon

Captain Ikellin Bara’dogo of the Spirit took a bite of escura, letting the fishy flavor simmer on his taste buds. It was some of the food that had been stolen from the Cloud of Heaven three days earlier. Rolf had been overjoyed to have some new ingredients after weeks of fish, various pickled vegetables, and salted pork, and had been working the galley in overdrive.
After the sinking of the Cloud, the Spirit had set off southeast towards the port at Descon. Luckily for people of his trade, the southern islands of the Iradlic and the coast of Soandad were perfect hiding spaces. Even after over two centuries since Soandad was discovered, most land west of the mountains were somewhat lawless. The Sado’s reach only went so far, and the colonies were too busy keeping themselves alive to be wasting resources chasing pirates.
The mess hall was partially filled, even though the sun was barely an orange smudge on the eastern horizon. The work on a pirate ship was never done.
“Captain.” The ship’s first mate Megas came through the mess hall door. “Got three ships off the port bow.”
“Any identification on them?”
“Yeah. The Bloodwhetter, the Scarred, and the Bachidia Morie.”
“Rheves…what the hell does he want?”
“I don’t know sir, but he wants to see you in person.”
Ikellin stood up.
“Very well then.”
He briskly exited the mess hall through the main door. The hallway that it opened to led to the main stairwell that led up to the deck of the ship. The hall itself was empty except for one crew member.
Azi Hortane was one of the few women in the crew of the Spirit. She was human, probably ten years the captain’s junior. She had joined the pirate crew about two years previously and had proved a valuable asset from the get-go. Her brown hair was bobbed just at the collar line, all except for the bun at the back of her head. Somewhat surprisingly, she was not clad in any of the recently stolen fine clothing from the Cloud of Heaven, but rather her usual sleeveless top patterned with a map of the constellations against a night sky. She was leaning against the right hand wall, fiddling with her custom built semi-auto rifle.
“Hey, Captain.” she said as he passed. Ikellin paused for a moment.
“Hm?”
“Could you give a message to Rheves for me?”
“Yeah. What is it?”
“Rot in hell.”
“That all?” Ikellin chuckled. For whatever reason Azi left the Bloodwhetter, she had a deep hatred of her former captain, Rheves Chakalaas. Ikellin had never found out why, though he had suspicions that there was some sort of relationship between the two. But he was a wise enough man not to get in the way of an angry woman, and so never bothered to ask.

On deck, the Bloodwhetter had pulled up beside the smaller Spirit. It was an impressive ship, bristling with guns and painted with a black and red color scheme: though it did absolutely no good as camouflage during the day, it showed that the captain meant business.
Captain Ikellin stood in front of one of the gaps in the deck railing used for boarding, with his first mate Megas and second mate Gilgas at his side. With a hiss of steam and a rattle of chain the Bloodwhetter’s access ramp lowered onto the deck.
Three pirates walked out of the access hatchway onto the gangplank. The first one was a short, fat human male with a big nose and a foul smelling cigar in his mouth. Ikellin recognized him as Torbin, Rheves’ first mate. Next was a youngish Sanx who had some serious shrapnel wounds, apparently the new second mate after Zhabad’s unfortunate accident.
The final person to step onto the Spirit’s deck was a red and purple-skinned Marudem. He was a distinct opposite to Ikellin, not only in skin color, but also that he was almost a head taller, incredibly skinny compared to Ikellin’s solid build, and wore his wavy hair longer.
“Rheves.” Ikellin addressed the tall pirate, arms crossed.
“Ikellin.” He replied. “Word travels fast out here. I applaud you on your work with the Cloud of Heaven.”
“Wasn’t hard. They crumbled like old plaster.”
“Reasonable haul?”
“As much as this old bird could carry.”
“And I presume we are to stick to the same deal?”
“Twenty percent, as usual.”
“Good, good.”
“Oh, yeah, Azi wanted me to deliver a message.”
“And?”
“‘Rot in hell’, nothing especially new.”
“Hahah, yes, that’s her. Ikellin, the main reason why I wanted to see you is because I heard you lost a cabin boy recently, back on Poropholas.”
“Yeah, that was Ehan. Eaten alive by a pack of sqomaks.”
“Pity. But, nonetheless, I have come a across a young lad who signed on to my ship, but I believe that you deserve his help a bit more.”
“Are you sure that’s a wise idea?” Ikellin responded, amused. “I already have one crewmember that came from your fleet that wants to kill you and condemn your soul to eternal torment; I don’t think I can take another.”
“No, I assure you he’ll be no trouble. Torbin.” He motioned to his first mate, who went back aboard the Bloodwhetter. Moments later, he reappeared with a teenage Sabadesu.
The boy looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. He was willowy in build, with his violet hair cut short. He looked, thankfully, to be capable of holding his own in a fight, but also dreadfully inexperienced at the same time. A small satchel was slung over one shoulder.
“This is Shym.” Torbin introduced.
“Very well. Gilgas, show young Shym to his bunk.”
“Aye sir.” the red and purple Marudem answered, followed by a grunt in Shym’s direction. “C’mon then, Scrubbs.”
Gilgas led the Sabadesu below deck. Internally, he was bracing himself for the long string of inane questions swabbies always asked when they came on board. Externally, he kept a straight face, but Shym said nothing.
The pair approached a door in on the bunkhouse deck. The Spirit, being a modified passenger vessel, had plenty of individual rooms. Incredibly loud snoring that sounded like a wild boar having a heart attack came from the other side. Gilgas, without pausing, kicked the door in and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“HEY! Master Bates! Got a new bunk mate for ya!”
There was a startled yelp and a spasm from the top bunk of the bed, followed by a man falling to the floor of the cramped room.
He was a Jopikki, about middle aged. Both his calico fur and his clothes were coated with soot, grease, and various varieties of dirt. He smelled like a hot engine room, which incidentally betrayed where he spent most of his time.
“Ah, Diet Dr. Pepper, Gilgas! What the hell do you want?!”
“I already said it, Bates. Found you a new bunk mate. Later.” Gilgas strode out of the room quickly. The Jopikki glared at Shym menacingly for interrupting his nap. Like Gilgas, his was not very fond of swabbies either.
“You better say your prayers now, kid: you’re not going to last long on here.” the Jopikki grumbled, climbing back up to his bunk.
“Um,” Shym began, “Is your name really Master Bates?”
“What? Hell no. That’s just what that Diet Dr. Pepper Gilgas calls me.” He said from his bunk. “Name’s Jimbo. Now you better get your Diet Dr. Pepper to the galley pronto. Rolf’s waiting.”

Enjoy. And no doubt you saw Gilgas' snappy wordplay in that last part, of which my explanation is

I wrote: They're pirates, not Boy Scouts.

Good chapter. I like Pirate Stories.

Next chapter.

453 A.D.C.
Twenty-fourth Day of the Moon of Long Days
Idralic Ocean, traveling south en route to Soandad from Descon

The first week aboard the Spirit had not been kind to Shym. Being the newbie, he was at the bottom of the social ladder, and he was dismayed to find that most of the crew, like Gilgas and Jimbo, considered him to be as such. Rolf, on the other hand, was quite different.
Rolf Fennec was a human in his early forties, with a prodigious girth, a well-trimmed beard and an old grease-stained apron. He was lord and master of the galley, and though he preferred to keep his cooking simple, he made sure that the crew was well fed. He also, ironically, was the ship’s surgeon, and had many times in the past threatened to use an unwashed knife that he used to gut the last night’s dinner if the patient screamed. Needless to say, very, very few people gave so much as a peep.
Though he didn’t voice it, Shym was quite thankful to be put on galley duty. Though he had the capability of being a rigid taskmaster, Rolf was mostly a laid-back, gregarious fellow, full of swashbuckling tales to bide the time when Shym was up to his elbows in soapy dishwater. Unlike most of the others, Rolf was quite friendly to Shym, except for the time when the cabin boy added ground gumbag root to the soup instead of ground pepper, leaving several crew members ill for the evening. The Sabadesu still felt the fresh bruises on his knuckles, courtesy of Rolf’s trusty, albeit worn, wooden spoon.
Shortly after taking Shym aboard, the Spirit had landed in the port on Descon for four days of some well-deserved shore leave. Descon was one of what were called the ‘Big Four’: the islands of Descon, Schalja, Mure, and Asparda. These were the four ports that were classified as ‘eternally free territory’, meaning that they owed allegiance to no specific captain or fleet, and being without commitment, were the sole places where pirates and various other outlaws could come to, no matter who they were, to do their business freely and peacefully, or the pirate equivalent of such. It was a crowded, dirty, loud, and busy place, just the way it was supposed to be, filled to the beaches with taverns, bars, black market merchants, legit merchants, crime syndicate headquarters, fortunetellers, bounty offices, gambling huts, and pleasure houses. The last topic was of interest, as the last time the crew of the Spirit had visited Descon, almost a year previously, Captain Ikellin had found that one of his crew had visited a certain establishment where the door fee alone had cost the equivalent of a week’s worth of fuel. That particular crew member found himself beat within a centimeter of his life by both Ikellin and several other members of the crew, and was subsequently pushed off the ship a hundred meters above open ocean. It took four moons of hard work to make up the debt that that idiot had made in a single night.
Captain Ikellin had cleared out most of the cargo holds during their stay on Descon. He had several contacts there who could get him good money for the rarer goods. Everything else went to whoever would shell out the gold for it. The Spirit and her crew had kept most of the food and fuel, and whatever personal items caught their fancy, but still left a lot to be sold on the black market. The news of the hit on the Cloud of Heaven had spread fast, making them celebrities on the island.
But, their four days of R&R would not last forever, and they headed off south when the cargo was sold.

“Captain, I’m getting something interesting over the wireless.” Jaw Lajox said from the radio operator’s desk. He was actually standing in for the real operator, who was busy throwing up in a basin due to Shym’s bungling of the previous night’s soup.
“Whaddaya got?”
“Some of the chatter lines have been saying stuff about some Diramali airships heading towards the Deep South. Big military cruisers, too.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Eight Chalbyron-class transports, all of them fully loaded.”
“That’s odd. Diramel’s colonies are all in Sabadesu territory…why the hell are the headed to the Deep South?”
“Don’t know. But it seems that they want to keep it quiet. And that’s not all: rumor is they’ve got a whole platoon of Dragoon Paladins along for the ride.”
“Hmmm.” Ikellin turned around to the other crewmen on the bridge, smiling. “What do you say, boys? How about hitting some Diramali ships?”
Every crewman voiced support, loudly. Ikellin let them continue for a moment before motioning for quiet.
“Then I guess it’s unanimous. Derrik, get this ship headed towards the Deep South.”
“Aye sir.”
THUD
The entire ship shook as something large and heavy hit the deck. Ikellin looked out the glass veiwport at the large thing that had appeared on the ship.
“Holy sh’ït!” he swore as he bounded over to the emergency slide-pole shaft that led straight from the bridge to the deck.
As he landed on the deck, he got a better look at what had hit them. Other pirates were beginning to investigate as well.
The thing that had landed on the deck was some sort of creature, but Ikellin sure as hell didn’t recognize it. It was bipedal, covered in knobbed white bone plating and taut, waxy skin. It was probably the size of a bull Burgufg, but stood hunched on the “knuckles” of its bat-like wings. Its eyes were lopsided and the forehead was pronounced. The large snout above its fanged jaw appeared to be somewhat squashed and uneven.
The creature seemed dazed and confused, shambling forward a meter or two towards the onlookers, growling and snapping, and then jumping back. But its massive fangs and talons made it clear that it was not friendly. It watched the pirate carefully with its mismatched eyes and uttered a strange noise that sounded like a fusion of a yelp, a bark, and a snarl, every few seconds.
Ikellin slowly reached to his holster, so as not to startle the creature. Something this big that was obviously meant to kill was too dangerous to risk any crew members on trying to remove it peacefully. Drawing his pistol, he aimed it at the creature’s head. In his peripheral vision he saw several other pirates do the same.
The creature took notice of this, and did not take it well. The beast stood up on its hind legs, unfurled its wings to their full extent, possibly twenty feet wide, and let go an ear-piercing shriek that sent all hands to ears and many pirates to their knees on the deck. But the scream was interrupted by the ratta-tatta-tatta of a machine gun. Ikellin opened his eyes to see bullets tearing through the creature’s chest, sheaving off chunks of flesh, splattering purple-black blood over the deck and crew, and imbedding or ricocheting off the bridge-house behind them. The creature turned around towards the source to the bullets, which continued in a stream, blowing chunks out of its back. The creature gave a garbled screech, a terrific seizure, and crashed to the deck. Ikellin was mildly amused as to who was standing behind it.
Shym, in all the commotion, had snuck around the creature to the deck chaingun turret and proceeded to blow its guts all over the deck. Captain Ikellin was quite impressed with him, as were many others, being as he had done this without their noticing. Ikellin and Megas walked over to the Sabadesu, only marginally skirting the carcass. The captain and first mate were splattered with the creature’s fluids: Megas was completely coated and would probably be stained for a week.
“Good job there, Shym.”
“Oh, um, yeah, I guess it was.”
“You’re too modest, kid.” Megas told him “You’re definitely set out for this line of work.”
“I agree. But you’re still cabin boy, so go get a mop.” The captain turned to the others. “Okay boys; let’s get this Diet Dr. Pepper thing off our ship.”

Enjoy.

Next chapter.

453 A.D.C.
Twenty-fifth Day of the Moon of Long Days
Idralic Ocean, northern coast of Soandad

Captain Ikellin sat at the desk in his cabin, a worn bestiary before him, and a Toli-Anamican dictionary to help translate it on the side. Yesterday’s strange happenings had troubled him greatly, and he had been reviewing his large collection of books for anything that could make a match to the beast. So far, he had no luck.
Even for a pirate, Ikellin was actually quite well-educated. Not in book smarts, like algebra or physics or any of the fancy stuff they taught at the Academy in Raolo, but practical stuff: how to survive on a deserted island, how to operate every weapon used south of the equator, which creatures were edible, which ones should better be left alone, the various vital spots of all sentient Anamican species, how to work a wireless radio, what customizations worked best with different weapon layouts, basic airship design, and plenty of other subjects that came up in this line of work. Ikellin himself spoke four languages and everybody else in the crew was at least bilingual.
But this was what irritated him. The collection of literature that sat on his plundered hardwood bookshelves had given him no answers to his question.
There was a knock from the iron cabin door.
“It’s open.” Ikellin muttered, not looking up. Megas walked in, with a bruise growing over his left eye and still stained purplish-black. “What’s up?”
“We’ve reached the coast, captain.”
“By the look of that bruise I presume Gilgas and Jimbo are at it again.”
The first mate sighed.
“Yep. Took me, Azi, Big Dero, and Rolf to break them up.”
“Those two are going to be the death of me, I’m sure. Where are they now?”
“Oh, Rolf’s taking care of them.”
“Heheh, poor bastards.”
Megas walked over and looked at the bestiary.
“Hmm. Need any help translating? I can read Toli pretty good.”
“No, no, I’m fine. But on thing does worry me: that thing we saw yesterday doesn’t match up with anything I have in my possession. Nothing at all.”
“A new species maybe?”
“Perhaps, but something that big can’t go unnoticed for that long without discovery.”
“I guess you could be right.” Megas walked over a bookshelf and ran his hand across the worn leather binding. His finger paused on one with the title Events of the Unordinary and Strange: The Omnibus of the Master of Horror, Oudar Ch’allom. Pulling it off the shelf, he began leafing through the pages.
“That’s an odd choice.” Ikellin looked at the selection. “Doubt you’ll find anything but some tales to scare the sh’ït out of you.”
“Heh, that they do, but there’s one in here I wanted to check out…ah, here it is. The Grove of Kordibad.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Remember what he published in his memoirs, that it was based off the Kordibad Massacre of 397?”
“And?”
“They never came to a conclusion for that case. Thirty-two people, torn to shreds, some of them half eaten. Teeth marks didn’t match anything.”
“I know what happened, get on with it.” The captain responded, beginning to lose his patience.
“Both the story and the eyewitness reports mention an unknown creature or creatures that defied description. It’s a crazy idea, but perhaps our creature is somehow related.”
“Interesting idea, but demons are a fairy-tale invented to scare little children.”
“Not exactly. If I recall correctly, as of three years ago there have been over seven hundred documented sightings of unknown creatures since the founding of Diramel.”
“And you know this…how?”
“You should know, I’m a fan of all unexplainable phenomenon.”
The captain stood up from his desk.
“Well, whatever it is, it takes second seat for now. I’ve had it with those two.” He exited the cabin, headed for the galley.

Ikellin found Megas scrubbing dishes in the galley under the eyes of Rolf and Shym, Jimbo was nearby, holding a pack of ice to his black eye, watched by Azi and the midget human, Big Dero. Both of the delinquents had various cuts and bruises, though Jimbo had suffered the worst of it. The captain crossed his arms and glared at each of the offenders in turn.
“I cannot believe it.” He said with incredible menace. “I feel like I’m captain of a bunch of godsdammed children. This is the fourth time this moon we’ve had to pull you away from each other’s throats. I don’t want to know what reason, so don’t tell me. On any other ship you would have been marooned or killed years ago. The only reason I put up with you two bastards is because I couldn’t find anyone good enough to replace you. But I think I’ve been two lenient recently. Both of you are going to be doing his jobs,” he pointed at Shym. “As well as your own until I say otherwise. And the next time either of you causes any kind of trouble…just imagine it for yourselves. Rolf, they’re all yours now.”
Captain Ikellin turned on his heel and exited the galley.

Enjoy.

Great chapter. Very well detailed. My friend has never even read this story, but said it was really good when I showed him this chapter. Keep up the great work!

Next chapter.
453 A.D.C.
Third Day of the Moon of First Frost
Soandad, en route to Huma

After making landfall in Soandad, the Spirit had continued her way south down the eastern fringe of the desert, making sure to skirt any settlements that were allied with the Sado. The sinking of the Cloud of Heaven had made the Sanx leader put out an even larger reward for the capture of any pirates, whether they had to do with the hit or not. But, as the way was in this part of Soandad, the Sado’s reach only went so far. Still feeling from the sting of the Nomad’s Civil War almost forty years previously, the central government in Mehedu had little to no power over the oases and cities on the fringes of the desert and in the Deep South. Much like the islands to the north, it was rather lawless, though here on the mainland it was controlled by the Sanx crime lords instead of pirates.
“What’s our bearing, Gingen?” Ikellin asked the ship’s navigator. The Jopikki straightened his eyeglasses and looked up from his charts.
“South-southwest, sir. We’re about forty kilometers north of Huma.”
“Good. Any inclement weather reports, Zorhs?” the captain asked the Sanx wireless operator.
“A moderate-sized sandstorm about a hundred twenty k’s west of us. Nothing other than that.”
“No news on those Diramel transports?”
“Nothing other than the fact that they’re already in the Deep South.”
“Very well. Derrik, keep us on course to land in Huma.”
“Aye sir.” Replied the helmsman.

Jimbo tapped the fuel gage with a dirty finger in the oppressive heat of the Spirit’s engine room.
“Looks like we’ll have to refuel when we land tonight. Good thing we picked up all that azbar when we raided the Cloud.”
“Heh…and I actually used to wonder why they called you a grease monkey.” A voice said from the doorway. Jimbo looked around to see the smug face of Gilgas Togg leaning against the iron doorframe.
“What the hell do you want?” the Jopikki snarled before turning back to a particularly rusty bolt. “’Cause you have about three seconds before I brain you with this wrench.”
“All talk, Jimbo, all talk. I’m not here to start a fight. A proposition perhaps, but not a fight.”
“You can take that proposition of yours and shove it up your Diet Dr. Pepper.” Jimbo grunted. “Last time I listened to one of your propositions, I nearly ended up on the gallows and lost a cargo hold of prime shakwash crystal.”
“That again? Let it go, Bates. We got you out of there before they executed you.”
“You cost me a godsdammed fortune!” Jimbo shouted, throwing his wrench to the floor. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been retired in the tropics years ago!
“I saved your life. Show some gratitude.” Gilgas responded calmly.
“I’ll show you gratitude, Diet Dr. Pepper! Shove the hell off!”
“As you wish. But the olive branch is just as easily revoked as it is given.” Gilgas disappeared down the hallway. Jimbo snarled in his throat, pressed his greasy fingers to his temples, and went back to work.

The Spirit landed on the pad at Huma’s skyport as the sun was setting. Captain Ikellin stepped off the boarding ramp, with Megas, Azi, and Shym behind him. Azi was standing in for Gilgas, and Shym was there as a tagalong at Ikellin’s request: A cabin boy never went anywhere in life with no experience in anything but washing pots. The rest of the crew was either helping with the refueling, or getting some rest on board. There was no shore leave for anyone, as they would be back in the sky in the morning.
Huma was obviously a town friendly to the crew of the Spirit as none of the citizens paid them any more than a casual glance. It was a medium-sized settlement of buildings around a natural oasis, all of them built of sandstone in classical rounded Sanx architectural style. The streets were emptying out, as the desert night would soon become frigid. The small group of pirates made their way to a larger building, almost a small palace, in the center of town.
The main entrance to the building, a great circular wooden door, was flanked by two hulking reptilian beasts. Each one was probably two and a half meters tall at their hunched shoulders and was covered in red-brown armor plating that looked as if it belonged on an airship instead of a lizard. Their arms were longer than their legs, forcing them to balance on their knuckles. Their yellow eyes followed the pirates keenly. The guard on the left beat his barbaric-looking club in his other hand as they approached. Shym was the only pirate taken aback by the pair, as he had never seen a Zhak before, only descriptions of them. He was honestly a bit scared by them, mainly because one of them could bite off his head and most of his torso in one go.
Ikellin got within two meters of the creatures before the left one beat his cudgel hard on the rocky ground and started a string of threatening guttural throat rumblings and snarling growls.
“Heh, are you going blind, Jrgg, or is your nose just clogged from all this Diet Dr. Pepper sand? We’re here to see Mwo Saph.” Ikellin said, amused at the creature that could easily tear him limb from limb. His statement seemed to have an effect on the Zhak guard, who shambled forward and began to sniff the air around the pirate captain. After a few seconds, he turned and muttered something to his partner, turned back to the pirates, gave a short bark, and pulled down a lever beside the entryway. The gear system inside the wall opened the door.
“Thank you very much, gents.” Ikellin said as he walked through.
The building, like most other Sanx structures, was circular with thin horizontal windows. Several doors led out of the main room, which was quite spacious, though still cozy. Lamps hanging from the ceiling shone brightly on the exquisite carpeted floor. The walls were covered in various tapestries and wall hangings. At the far end was another room built so as half of it was in this room and the back half went through the wall. Light could be seen peeking out through one of the sanctum’s windows. There were not many other people in this particular room, just a few other guards Sanx and Zhak, plus a single Sabadesu, all of whom looked at least somewhat bored, if not more.
The left Zhak from the front, Jrrg, poked his head through the door and grumbled a few rough sentences to the guards inside. The Sabadesu took, note, went over to the entrance to the other room, opened a small hatch in the sandalwood door, and said something to whoever was inside.
The door to the sanctum opened to show a tall, older Sanx male, apparently the Mwo Saph Ikellin had mentioned to the door guards. He was built like a giant, from his barrel chest to his massive hands to his huge bare feet. He wore richly made robes of gold and green, with a matching othka dou around his head. The othka dou was a traditional Sanx headdress, a long piece of cloth that ended in a point at their end, and was worn wrapped around the head so the ends dangled down on either side. Mwo wore his with in the usual eastern style, with the right hand side shorter than the left.
“Ahahaha! Look who has come to pay old Mwo Saph a visit!” He said in a deep, gregarious voice. Unlike some Sanx, Mwo Saph had figured out the various emotional expressions of other species and was smiling broadly, exposing a row of pearly white teeth. “Ikellin Bara’dogo, how goes it?”
“As good as it’s ever been, Mwo.” He grabbed his friend’s forearm in the Sanx version of a handshake. “As good as it’s ever been.”
“So my friend, have you brought me and treasures from your epic raid on the Cloud of Heaven?”
“Sorry, but this isn’t a business visit.”
Mwo mocked disappointment.
“Oh, boo-hoo for me I suppose. But it is good to see you again, Ikellin.” Mwo’s glanced fixed on Shym. “What’s this? I don’t recognize this one.” He walked up and looked at the Sabadesu. “What’s your name, shorty?”
“Uh, I’m Shym.”
“Shym, hm? Short and to the point: I like it. You look to be a capable boy. So, what brings you to my humble home today, friends?”
“We actually need some information, Mwo. Could we perchance move into your sanctum while we talk?” the Captain said.
“Of course.”
Mwo Saph showed them into his sanctum, which was decorated much like the main hall, except for the desk and wicker chairs in the center. Another door rested in the wall behind where the Sanx was now sitting. Azi and Shym took seats on the floor, as there were only two chairs before the desk.
“What sort of information do you need?”
“We need to know if you’ve heard about any unusual in the Deep South recently, preferably about Diramel’s involvement.”
“Then I believe you have come to the right man, Ikellin. I have, as a matter of fact.”
“And?”
“Though I do not know what Diramel is doing in the Deep South, I do know where they are: The Shilto Plate region. And that they have let no-one south of the Garsbard Line in the entire area. Other than that, I cannot help. Are you perchance thinking about a raid?”
“That’s what I do, Mwo.”
“Hahaha, yes, I suppose it is. But…” the Sanx lowered his voice. “I advise you not to with as much authority I can muster as your friend.”
“What about?” Megas questioned.
“There is something going on in the Shilto Plate. Something evil. Something Diramel wants to keep quiet. Not too long ago, I sent some of my hired arms to investigate this Diramali activity. Just one of them returned. Or should I say his head returned, courtesy of the Kingdom of Diramel.”
“A note?”
“No. An envoy.”
“Well, no offense to the capabilities of your mercenaries, but we can handle a few border patrols.”
“No. it is worse than that. Diramel is not the only force at work here. Just two days ago, I received a visitor, a Marudem like you, half dead. It was obvious that he had lost his mind: he kept screaming about monsters, and holding his knife in a grip like a vice. He’d driven his airship until there wasn’t a drop of fuel in the tanks, and then ran all the way here from the crash site, right through the desert. He seemed harmless enough when we calmed him down a little, so I gave him a room to sleep in for the night. Woke up the next morning to find him with his dagger between his ribs.”
“Suicide, I take it.”
“Exactly. But there is one thing you might be interested in.” Mwo dug in on of the pockets of his robe, pulled out a dagger, and handed it to the captain. It was well-made, with a straight fifteen-centimeter blade. “This was it.”
Ikellin held it in one hand, feeling the balance of the weapon. A painted insignia on the bottom of the hilt caught his eye. A single orange flame with a scarlet blood splatter overtop.
“The Bloodied Flame…only the crews in Rheves’ fleet use this.”
“So he must already be down in the Deeps.”
“Or at least one of his ships, Azi.”
“The Death of Chivalry, to be precise. My guest mentioned it during one of his insane rants.”
Ikellin stroked his chin with one hand, musing the situation. The gears of his brain were spinning in overdrive, processing the information. The crewman from the Death of Chivalry had mentioned monsters. If he had known what they were, he would’ve called them by name. The creature that they had run across nine days before would’ve matched the description of an unidentified monster. So then logically, the creature and the situation in the Shilto Plate were related somehow.
“So what’s the plan, Captain?” Megas asked.
Ikellin was silent for a few more seconds.
“We continue as we’re going. Loot or no loot, something’s up in the Deeps. I say we find out what.”
“You can’t be serous, captain.” Azi interjected. “If the Death of Chivalry faced something that made a crewman lose his mind and flee like the fires of hell were behind him, then whatever it is should be left alone.”
“But if the Diramel forces meet the same end, there would be no warning before it happens to somebody else. There could be a crisis on our hands, people.”
The human did not reply. Ikellin could tell that she agreed with his counter-argument.
Mwo Saph shook his head.
“Then I see there is no dissuading you. But, we should not dwell on it. Do you wish to stay here for the night, perhaps some supplies?”
“I’d enjoy catching up, but we have to get back to the ship. We’re leaving in the morning.” Ikellin stood up. “I’ll stop by on the way back north.”
“Who am I to argue? You saved my life more times than I care to remember. May the winds be at your back and may Father Fate be with you.”
“And the same to you.” Ikellin left the sanctum, Megas and Azi right behind him. Shym was the last to leave.
“You, Shym.”
The cabin boy turned to the Sanx crime lord.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Only if there’s something that needs to be said.” He gave a respectful bow and followed the captain.

Enjoy.

I was finally able to catch up on this story. I like it a lot, especially with the new developments as of late. Keep up the excellent work, man.

Hebes24 wrote:I was finally able to catch up on this story. I like it a lot, especially with the new developments as of late. Keep up the excellent work, man.

Ask and you shall recieve! Next chapter!

453 A.D.C.
Fifth Day of the Moon of First Frost
Soandad, the Deep South, near the Garsbard Line

The Spirit flew through the area of the Garsbard Line, blending in with the black of night like a Tarkasi Stalker. So far they were clear: no radar hits yet.
The Garsbard was a boundary line that split the Deep South from the Grand Sanx Imperium to the north through the Teirgadasar Mountains. Once you crossed the Line, the odds of seeing civilization without turning around dropped dramatically. A few tribes of Deep-men Sanx lived in the Teirgadasrs, a smaller number in the actual Deep South. Most people, except the hardy inhabitants, avoided the region for good reason: The Deeps were the most hostile location in the world. There had not been rain for over fifty years in most parts, and the ceaseless winds made sure that temperatures hovered around the freezing point. All in all, it was a rough, craggy, frigid, wind-blasted wasteland.
“Do you think we should’ve seen a Diramel ship by now? We’re past the Line.” Xech’dah J’dokva, the Kvee radar operator said to the night-shift helmsman, the Sabadesu known only as Gib.
“Dunno. Should we have?”
“I asked you that. Can you ever answer with something that isn’t in the form of a question…wait…what the hell?” The Kvee bent over the radar screen. “We have a hit.”
“Diramel?”
“No. It isn’t moving. Hold on, I’ll check the wireless.” He spun the knob on the radio set through every channel it had available. Static followed. He tried it again. “That’s odd. No radio contact either.”
“No, you’re wrong there. Check in the point-seven range.” Xech’dah did as the helmsman suggested, slowly. Surprisingly, he came to an active transmission. He didn’t understand the language and it was heavily obscured by static, but it sounded urgent.
“What is this?”
“Dunno. Might want to go tell the captain.”

A rapport of knocking sounded from the door to Ikellin’s quarters. The captain groaned, lifted himself a few centimeters off of his cot, glanced at his bedside clock, and fell back into his pillow.
“It is two twenty-three in the morning. You better have a Diet Dr. Pepper good reason for waking me up this early.” He grumbled muffled. “Bastards.”
“Captain, we have a radar hit and radio contact. You need to check this out.” Xech’dah’s voice came from the other side of the door. Ikelling sprung up, and still in his bedclothes, opened the door.
“That counts as a Diet Dr. Pepper good reason.” He ran off in the direction of the bridge.
When he arrived, he walked over to the wireless table and began listening to the transmission. It was short, and the speaker was definitely out of breath. Fifteen seconds after it ended, it replayed.
“Just a recording.” Ikellin turned to Xech’dah, who had just arrived. “Get me someone who can understand Bisagarari.”
“Aye sir.” The Kvee said, panting slightly.

Ten minutes later, the wireless’s headphones were on Jimbo’s ears, and the Jopikki was scribbling away a translation on a piece of paper beside him.
“Just has to be Bisagarari. It just has to be Bisagarari.”
“Can you translate it or not?”
Jimbo spun around in his chair.
“I can translate it just fine, Captain. I can translate it with the unerring quality of a staggering drunk.”
“Then just give me the digest version.”
“That, I can do.” Jimbo took of the headphones and flipped the off switch on the radio. “The ship down there is the Death of Chivalry. Judging by the quality of the broadcast, it has been several days since they started the loop. The speaker does mention some attackers, but there’s no mention of Diramel. Can’t tell you much more than that. Of course, it might have helped if he didn’t broadcast a distress signal in Diet Dr. Pepper Bisagarari.”
The captain contemplated this for a moment.
“Do you think an investigation would be too risky?”
“Doesn’t look like there’s anything else working in the ship besides the wireless and a backup battery. Doubt that whoever attacked it would stick around this long. Couldn’t hurt to snoop around, I suppose. Whatever you think is best.”
“Well, we’re not going to do anything tonight.” The captain clapped his hands twice. “Gib, land us somewhere close, and the rest of you, get to your bunks.”
“Aye sir!” They chorused.

Later.