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# Waverider Expedition - Pirates

Ulfar making his stand

The night was black as tar, the sea calm but uneasy, as though holding its breath. The Waverider drifted slow under half sail, the stars faint through a haze of low cloud. Most of the crew slept. Only the watch kept to their posts - a handful of men and women pacing the deck with lanterns that burned low.

The first sign came as a sound - soft, wrong. A dull thunk against the hull. Then another. Hooks.

From the dark water rose shadows, silent and glistening. Pirates, barefoot and lean, their blades bound in cloth to muffle the clink of steel. The first reached the rail and swung over, landing behind a barrel. Another followed, and another. Within a minute, the deck had a dozen ghosts upon it.

The nearest sailor, young Harun, turned just as a blade caught the lantern light. His warning shout became a gurgle. The lantern fell, shattered, and the world plunged into red and shadow.

The cry reached below decks.

Ulfar was first up, bare-chested, roaring like a storm. He caught one pirate square in the chest with a boat hook, sending him over the rail. "To arms!" he bellowed. "We're boarded!"

Venera was already moving, sword drawn, her scar pale in the dark. She cut through the first attacker with the clean precision of a butcher at dawn. "Wake the captain!" she shouted, parrying another blow.

Solonex was awake before she finished. He stepped onto the deck barefoot, coat thrown over his shoulders, a cutlass in his hand. "No mercy," he said calmly. "Not tonight."

The pirates pressed hard, thinking surprise would carry them. They were wrong.

Arven fought at the forecastle, a belaying pin one hand, his other a club-like fist, his laughter cutting through the clash of steel. Eira's axe split one attacker clean through the collarbone, blood splattering across the deck. From below deck, Gato appeared like a shadow, a dagger flashing, then vanished again before anyone could strike back.

Kethra appeared out of nowhere, her twin curved blades whispering as they opened throats faster than the eye could follow. She moved with quiet purpose, like someone killing ghosts.

Selene knelt by Harun's body, blood soaking the boards beneath her hands. "Too deep," she whispered, pressing her palms against the wound. "Too deep." Light flared faintly between her fingers, but the boy was already gone. She exhaled once, steadying herself, then rose and drew the small knife she rarely used.

By then, the pirates were breaking. Those who still lived threw themselves overboard, the sea swallowing their curses. Ulfar hurled a grappling hook after them. "Come back, you cowards!" he roared. "I've got more for you!"

The deck fell silent but for the wind and the creak of the rigging. Smoke rose from the smashed lantern. The water below was dark and quiet once more.

Venera wiped her blade on a fallen man's sleeve. "Casualties?"

"One," Selene said softly. "Harun."

Solonex looked down at the boy's still face. "Then we were lucky."

He turned toward the sea, eyes narrow. "Double the watch. They'll try again before dawn."

Ulfar grunted. "Let them."

The crew worked in silence, cleaning the blood from the deck, tossing the dead pirates to the waves. By the time the horizon began to pale, the Waverider sailed on as if nothing had happened, the stains already drying black between the planks.

In the rigging, Gato watched the water. "They'll tell stories of this," he said quietly.

"Let them," Venera replied from below. "But not from the sea."

The wind rose, and the ship kept her course, steady, relentless, and awake.

The last farewell

The sea was calm, the sky above a deep blue, and the ship sailed on, steady and resolute. On the deck, a solemn group of sailors gathered around a simple winding sheet. They gathered to pay their last respects to Harun, who'd fallen the night before.

As the sailors stood around the winding sheet, three drummers began to play a slow and mournful rhythm, like the beating of a heart. The sound echoed across the deck, filling the air with a deep and profound sadness. The fourth drummer stood silent, his eyes closed, lost in his own thoughts.

Captain Virellus stood at the head of the winding sheet, his hand resting on the fabric. He looked out at the sea, a vast and unending expanse that stretched out before him. It was a fitting final resting place for a sailor, he thought, to be returned to the ocean that had been their home for so many years.

The sailors gathered around the winding sheet, each lost in their own thoughts and memories of Harun. They remembered his laughter, his stories, his bravery in the face of danger. They remembered his smile, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty to his shipmates.

Slowly, the sailors lifted the winding sheet and moved it to the edge of the ship, where they carefully lowered it into the water. The drummers continued their mournful beat, their sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship's hull.

As the winding sheet slipped beneath the surface of the water, the sailors stood in silent tribute, their heads bowed in reverence. They watched as the fabric disappeared into the depths below, a final tribute to a life lived at sea.

The captain stepped forward, his hand raised in salute to the fallen sailor. "Fair winds and following seas," he said, his voice carrying across the deck. "May your journey be peaceful, and may you find rest in the embrace of the sea."

The sailors echoed his words, their voices ringing out across the deck. They stood for a moment longer, lost in their own thoughts and memories, before turning away and returning to their duties. The ship sailed on, steady and resolute, the memory of their fallen comrade forever etched in their hearts and minds.

Selene lingered for a while, still feeling the echoes of his pain in her body.

The sea took what it gave. No one spoke of luck, only of duty.

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