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# Waverider Expedition - Karuun Rebellion

Panicked crowds trying to board the Waverider

The Waverider came into the bay under a black sky. Smoke drifted over the water, heavy and acrid, stinging the eyes. What had once been Marothis, a proud station of the Great Empire, was now a panicked crowd from the docks inward. Bells rang out of rhythm. The sea carried the sounds of shouting and steel.

Captain Virellus stood by the rail, the wind whipping his coat. “Drop anchor,” he said. The order carried steady, but his eyes never left the shore.

The anchor went down with a crash, chain rattling through the hawse like a roar of iron. The ship settled, creaking. Below, in the boats, sailors prepared to go ashore, then froze. The first figures were already running along the docks. Not soldiers. Civilians.

“Gods,” Venera Sorn muttered. “They’re coming for us.”

They came in hundreds. Men, women, children, all screaming, clutching bundles, faces pale with smoke and fear. The small boats were swamped before they even touched the piers. Some leapt into the water, others clung to ropes and hulls, clawing at the ship’s sides. The crew rushed to push them off, shouting for order, but order had died in Marothis.

“Cut the lines!” Ulfar bellowed, wrenching a grappling hook loose with his bare hands. “They’ll tear her apart!”

Phaedros cursed, watching the chaos through his spyglass. “The streets are lost to panic. The governor’s palace is burning. If we take them aboard, we’ll sink before we clear the bay.”

Selene stood by the rail, torn. A child screamed in the water below, one hand slipping from a plank. She looked at Virellus. He met her eyes, jaw tight.

“Save who you can,” he said quietly. “But we can’t take them all.”

The crew worked like demons, hauling a few half-drowned souls over the side while cutting away the rest. Below, the sea churned with the desperate. A man caught a rope, was trampled by another before he could climb. The screams rose and broke like waves.

When the anchor came up, blood streaked the chains.

The Waverider turned her prow seaward. Behind her, Marothis burned until even the glow sank beneath the horizon.

On deck, no one spoke. The rescued few huddled in silence, shivering, staring back toward the dark coast.

Captain Virellus stayed by the rail, his hands white on the wood. “We sail north,” he said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were hollow. “There’s nothing left to anchor for.”

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