The encroaching, stuffy darkness was not the worst part of being a prisoner, as far as she was concerned. Listening intently, she could tell that each individual breath of the inky gloom carried its own distinct burdens, from the quiet, shuddering sniffs, to the fearful, shaking exhalations of her companions in that unbroken shroud. They were all adrift together, not only upon the swirling tides that washed them towards the unknown, but with the long hours that worried at their patience and already waning strength.

Much as she wished for better means to mark the passing march of time -a primal urge she could not explain- she had no dial at her disposal, little good as such a device could be within this pallid light. Naught but slight glimmers of the warming sun managed to bore through the overhead boards, till the eclipse of dusk even stole that away, her craving for even that little comfort left as a mere fancy.

Yet, she was well aware that the lack of true sunlight was not the most grievous of her woes. Neither were the fetters on her tail and neck -biting and chafing as the frigid steel was- they did not pain her so profoundly. Nor was it the aching stiffness brought on by muscles cramped and little used.

It could have easily been the constant wafts of the rancid scents that assaulted her senses, which came with the high-rising temperatures of the day. The foul stench minced from stale urine, the nose tickling puffs of mold, and of course, the overarching pall of unwashed bodies.

From time to time, there would be the raucous jeers of the men, which came in tandem with their rum-fouled breath. Those repugnant examples of humanity continued to be audible, even through the wooden veils of decking which hid their cruel visages. The men's laughter and drunken songs permeated the prison far more than the sunlight could manage, though these offered no such comforts that would quieten the soul.

Those times of dubious care they showed for the captives were sparse, if consistent in their arrival. These oft craved occasions of 'generosity' always came packaged with the brusque flinging-wide of the hatch, summoning light streaming so harshly that it would nearly scorch her eyes, and the same of the others, and the granted wishes for better light were as much a curse as a blessing. Her squinting accomplished little relief from the pain as she was torn from the sanctum of darkness, and never was there adequate warning to prepare for complete sun-blindness, and the brief wash of sea-freshened air was choked off far too speedily for her tastes.

Perhaps it was the sudden pitching forward, forcing her to gag and strain against her bonds so as not to be throttled, only to be thrown roughly back into the splinters and gouging protuberances of the wooden wall to which she was chained. The stifling heat could also be held culpable, a wearying constant that kept her brow damp at all times, despite her familiarity with warm climes.

All of these afflictions were certainly persistent assaults upon her sanity, but none was the king of tormenting demons. That dubious honour and infamy could only lie with one culprit, insignificant as it appeared. The consistent, subtle rolling of the sea. An insidious torturer it was, for even when the days were calm -that is, when the floor beneath her was not attempting to hurl her through the air like a cannon shot- it would never subsist and call a truce. It was like an army of tiny, malicious imps who came to prod and whisper and nibble, always there to remind her that she could possess no peace of mind.

Was this to be her lot in life? Had she not showed proper devotion in holy praise? Were her duties performed in opposition to the will of the saints? Or was this some form of punishment for some ungodly sin she had unknowingly committed? In truth, it mattered little, for where she was, there seemed to be a profound lack of salvation.

Clenching her jaw, Jayla squeezed her eyes shut once more. She could feel the bile churning in her belly, heaving and rolling with each tiny shift of the floorboards, churning as much as the fathomless deeps themselves must be. It would be no great stretch of time, before this swirling unease would grow to a woozy, gut-twisting haze, culminating in clouded visions of better times, sullied by the wavers of her sight, the involuntary wringing of her insides, and dizziness hindering her already precarious balance.

Time had an obscurity in this place, and at the very forefront of breaking, she held a small portion of herself secret, locked away on watch, battling to keep the flames of hope burning. It was her private solace, the one thing that no outside force could seize. She was a trained defender of the order of Azada! Her noble priestess had given her guardianship of these tenets, and these she would cherish and foster, an aspiration for when her torments would pass, and she would be freed to sow their nourishing seeds among willing hearts.

But, even warrior priestesses could not escape the wiles of their own bodies. Jayla swallowed a moan, willing her belly to be still, forcing back the froth that attempted to rise. A distraction, perhaps a means of respite from these infernal palpitations inside her, that was what she required. It was a fine challenge to entice conversation beyond groans from her doleful companions, one that would serve as her project of the moment.

Drawing as deep a breath as she could stomach, Jayla worked her parched throat into a carrying hiss. "Sisters, are you awake?" It was a poor effort, but one could not expect a witty dialogue to surface easily from such distracting circumstances.

Somewhere in the gloom to her left, chain links scuffed, but no more than suppressed coughing rose to her call from that quarter, thick with an unhealthy rattle in the lungs. If she had but a paste of oran juices and rawst leaves, she could- No, best not to dwell on what she did not have. That was a dangerous trail into depths she had no wish to visit.

From her right, a thin voice croaked, "What is it? Who is there? Do you bring water? Please, I beg of you, a drop! A mere drop to cool my tongue, please!" The words were followed by a metallic shifting, as if a heavy form tugged weakly against thick manacles, and a heaving noise that could only be an attempted sob, stymied by lack of moisture.

"Apologies, sister, there is naught of substance I can offer to quench your drought," Jayla ventured, her heart aching for the piteous owner of the voice. Feeble and hushed as the words had been, she could still picture their speaker. The rotund, jovial faced aquatic female, of a species she had not seen prior to this nightmare. Burly of limb, with dark fins adorning head and tail, and bright orange accents to her vivid teal skin, she had been in the line in front of Jayla as they were herded aboard this wretched conveyance.

"The only offering I possess would be words of solace, and these I give gladly. Much as you have done for me in times of need, Umi, for you were always there... even when..." Jayla paused, swallowing against the dryness which sought to choke off her words. "When these oafs... bunched us together as spoils of their conquest, you drew me out of the shock which ensnared me, Umi. You... reminded me that I was still alive."

Wetting her lips as best she could, Jayla continued on a recourse of different thoughts, slightly unnerved by the lack of response from the other female. "To whatever ends they hold in store for us, we hold no value to their purpose in perishing, Umi. Horrendous conditions they may inflict upon us, but after taking such pains to steal us from our homes, they shall not drive us now unto death." The name was no more than a mark of affection, for the gentle female had given none, but in place of the mother she had never truly known, the name fit for the one friend she had garnered through this darkness.

"May I relate to you a reading of the tenets, Umi?" Jayla offered, projecting as much brightness into her voice as she could dredge, putting aside the churning of her belly. "Their light has brought me some comfort in this pit, and it would bring me joy for you to take them upon yourself. Mayhap you should wish to join me in my charge of sowing the seeds of Azada?"

Silence met the query, broken only by soft scuffling and another shuddering cough from the captive to her left, subsiding now. Then, as if Jayla had not even drawn breath to speak, her kindred spirit replied, "Water, whoever is there, I beg you! The sun burns so, and these insects that sting and bite! Water, please, to cool my throat as I wither! Water..." The pleas trailed off with a soft whoosh of air, and a heavy thud as a large body dropped against the wall. "My son, you have left me here so long, please bring me some water..."

To hear this former paragon of motherly virtue so broken nearly pushed Jayla into those self-same depths. White-hot rage whip-cracked through her, striping the despair and shouting at her to break these feeble bonds, rush to the aid of these woeful innocents. Yet, even as she mustered the strength, the purpled bruises around her neck and tail cried warning, throbbing with pains of past attempts, urging her away from rash self-injury. Even her mighty coiled strength could not break these heavy manacles, no matter how she twisted and knotted her lithe, serpentine form.

"Your son is not here, Umi, it is I, Jayla. Your friend," she attempted. "Do you recall not?"

"Water..."

Fast as it had arrived, Jayla's anger faded into the abyss from whence it came, as little good it would have done her here. Galling as it was, she could not help Umi like this. The rational choice, for both of them, could only be to rest now, and conserve what strength they could use. Did those brutes know of their charge being in such dire condition, ultimately expiring before Jayla's eyes? It seemed unthinkable that these humans could be so dense, to conceive that an aquatic species could possibly subsist on the pathetic dribbles of water they bestowed. Those of Jayla's kind bore ties to the earth, and she knew ways to preserve herself on the mercy of such tiny allowances, but she did not know if even the other grass species she had seen aboard would fare so well as she.

Curse this darkness! It stole away more than their sight. It turned all of them faceless, made off with their identity surely as a cutpurse in a bazaar filched coins. The aptitude of words to raise their spirits was indeed all she had to empower with, but how many would respond to her call. Who would stand with her when they had no proven leader to look to? Beyond that, how could she gauge their merits, their remaining strength, their resolve? Yet, she had to try, for what seemed the thousandth time. For Umi's sake. For all of their sakes. .

Jayla's stomach lurched, the infernal burning in her belly attempting to climb up the long length of her throat. Naught but hollowness lay inside her belly, yet the battle within Jalya's gut raged to jettison the last vestiges of bile, steadily climbing up the length of her body. Shutting her eyes was no longer a help, as she could still feel her head attempting to float away from her neck, even the darkness behind her eyelids swaying in time with the rhythmic wash of the waves. Each heartbeat seemed to mark an hour, all her focus strained upon preventing the meagre breakfast she'd consumed from rising.

'Should I be... No, when I am free of this, then never again shall I allow myself to be stowed within one of these conveyances called ships. Nothing more than a vessel of darkness that serves to break the body and spirit. I swear by Azada's holy name that none shall hold me to one ever again!'

'Not even if it were to return home? What of that?' a tiny voice from the back of her mind murmured, almost imperceptible. Yes, there was that, perhaps she would make a small exception. Naturally, she would not subject herself to such torturous accommodations as these. Would the clean air chase away this internal roiling? It was no more than a hope, but one she would take as holy truth.

'To return home... to what?' the voice nagged, ever persistent. To her people, her priestess sisters, to everything that held a place of value in her heart, that was... She mustn't delude herself. What could have survived the flames these men had started in her home? They had been forced to flee with their captives, yes, but who of her sisterhood remained to rebuild? How many had avoided the flashing blades wielded with reckless abandon amongst the temple folk, or the nets and ropes like those that had ensnared her to this fate?

Bubbling, her vexation brewed once more, hot and sharp, raging against her own helplessness to prevent the attack. Yet, no fury could burn hot enough to stave off the icy lance of pain which followed. The image of Kulus, her bond-companion since she had finished her warrior's training, flashed behind her eyes. Lying on her side, the ghost vision's eyelids were shut as if in repose... save for the malicious crimson pool staining the front of her holy vestments.

'She I have failed most of all...'

Instinctively, Jayla's lips moved in silent prayer for her human friend's departed soul, entreating the goddess that such a paragon of virtue would be reborn in a place with less pain than this. Never again would Kulus tend the sick that came to their temple. Never again would her gentle words of counsel soothe another's troubled mind. Never again would she and Jayla share a private joke, or take their ease together over a game of Sho-han. She was a caster of such great beauty, of both form and spirit intertwined. Yet, grace and devout words were no shield, and the unsullied flower had fallen before Jayla's very eyes, destroyed in an instant by the cruel thrust of a raider's sword.

Feeling the weight of her thoughts still, she at least surmised that the twisting in her gut had eased, albeit only to bearable portions. She could breathe again, without feeling like all of her insides were about to show themselves, and her center of being no longer felt separated from the rest of her body like some ghostly spirit. Enough of such morose recollections. Time now to take her chances, and attempt once more to breath some life into this cheerless crowd, as Kulus herself would have.

Raising her voice, she struggled to muster it, but as with her inner strength she manage enough, Jayla called out, "Lend me your ears, please, for this is for all to hear. A moment is all I ask." She paused for a few heartbeats, allowing them a moment to rouse themselves from their own thoughts. z88;"Sisters, I ask of you, look around. This darkness presses us deeply, but even in this foul place, we yet have light! Small as it may be, while we still draw breath, we shall always possess these glimmers in the dark. They have beaten us, chained us, thrown us into this pit, but they cannot steal away our spirit, lest we let them. If we falter now, hope will not have a meaning, and we shall be broken to subjugation. Remember who we all would be, and stand strong! None can do this for us but ourselves."

Scattered scuffling noises met her words, the occasional grunt or murmur, and the sickly one to her left contributed another bout of rattling coughs. Marginally encouraged by the relative enthusiasm, Jayla pressed on, ignoring the scratching of her throat. "Are we not alive, sisters? It is surely naught but a matter of time before our ordeal here is at its end. These repulsive creatures that deign to claim the title of 'men' must once more take to the land, bring us unto the destination for which they have set course." Jayla gulped air, silently praying that her voice would not give out before she had spent her words. Mercifully, her belly seemed content now to merely gurgle, rather than twist and writhe.

"We must prepare ourselves, fair sisters, for this time. They shall be forced to unshackle us, to bunch us together and herd us from this prison. We shall possess the blessings of solid earth beneath us once more, away from the roll and pitch of these vile waters!" Perhaps not an ideal choice of words, as surely those species here of aquatic nature would disagree with her sentiments, but she could not withdraw her heartfelt assertion. Nor had she any wish to, for what was to be gained by hiding her true feelings?

"Please, sisters, I beg of you. Do not give in to despair, do not allow them to lead you, meek as younglings, to your fate!" This was the moment of paramount import. They must be convinced, cajoled out of their self-pity. As she had learned from the holy tenets, they must seize the hope of life once more, and throw off these shackles of death and self-doubt! z88;"They fear us, for our numbers exceed theirs. Their protectors are few, and little more than ruffians themselves. They are not trained warriors. I urge you, sisters, when we are once more brought into the sun, rise up with me! Our strength together is no small thing. That is why they seek to drain us of our will, to break us to their shackles! I, Jayla, shield-maid of the holy order of Azada, defy them! They shall not steal away my light, my hope, my being. I shall rise up, sisters, and break them with the very chains they intend to break me. Will I do so alone?"

Deafening silence greeted her, broken only by the metallic clinking of chains, a subdued moan from Umi's direction, and vague shuffles that she desperately hoped was the sound of optimistic contemplation from her counterparts. Would her fumbling words be enough to persuade? Kulus had often chided her for the harshness of her tongue, her propensity for impassioned badgering rather than subtle guidance and gentle wisdom. What if she had erred, driven them into silent acceptance, instead of inspiring a readiness to fight?

A stuttering laugh, harsh of tone and devoid of any true mirth, perked her ear from the depths of the gloom. "You understand so little, serpent child, and speak of these things as though we are prisoners by choice, free to come and go as we please."

Jayla instantly bristled at the moniker of 'child', aware that this was no benediction from any elder priestess. Who was it that spoke? The voice rang with unfamiliar tone, distending words and drawling speech in a fashion she had never before heard. "Certainly, none of us have willed this fate, yet is that not more reason to resist it?" she called back. "Does my understanding not extend to this basic desire we surely all share?"

The humourless laugh reminded her of dry leaves swirling across the ground. The relatively tall, green-helmed female who appeared to wear white robes of her own, perhaps? "You assume we have not tried? None of us wish to be a prisoner, but none of us are so foolish as to throw our lives to these brutes as meat to a houndour." The other's voice was hoarse, yet firm as rock in conviction. "Some of us have been aboard this hell-hole longer than you, serpent child, and it is no mystery what fate awaits us. Cease your attempts to increase our suffering. Better to live on in captivity, rather than die here in this lightless mire. You are like a young human child, throwing a stone against a mountain and expecting it to bow to your will."

Such an irksome reprimand! Did this hidden stranger consider her a hatchling still, with bits of egg shell stuck to her tail? Jayla was willing to admit this verbal fencing was preferable to the silent cold-shoulder or woeful protestations her past attempts had garnered. Yet, surely this other could see the soundness of her plan? "Pray tell, why do you say this?" She was unable to keep a touch of ire from entering her tone, but it could not be helped. "I see no reason to fear for our lives. These men must preserve us if they are to auction our services as slaves, so they will prove wary to inflict more than bruises upon us. Their own greed ensures our livelihood. We can seize the moment, overwhelm them in battle! Bruises seem to me a small price to pay for our freedom."

"You truly believe us capable of this feat? Indeed, such a great host you command! From the shining Dalila the sickly, whose coughing fits slay foes left and right, to the indomitable mad nameless one, whose crazed ramblings stand strong to win the day!" The rasping laugh grew dark as the air around her, joyless, mocking. Perhaps it was the dark-furred female, with the long red mane and powerful claws? Or one crouching in the hidden corners Jayla had not yet glimpsed? "I do not see such vaunted warriors as you seem to fancy, serpent child," the scornful voice went on. "I see a sickly, weakened, beaten collection of misfits. Of those who yet have strength, few have ever truly tasted combat. Desist your foolish notions, serpent child. To the world, we are already dead. I for one have no desire to prove it correct."

A smattering of assenting groans met this statement, one of which came from Umi's direction. Angered, Jayla lashed her tail against the creaking planks of the floor, her bonds clattering like a cloudburst of metal rain. "Do you not see? You defeat yourself with words before the fight has begun! They assume us beaten already, and will not gird themselves for battle." Ignoring the pain in her throat, her voice rose, the zeal to draw these wounded souls out of their wallows driving her on. "You seek to prove the world wrong? Start this quest here, with these treacherous men! When the moment strikes, rise with me! We shall strike as the sun peaks its zenith, and-"

"-have spears in our bellies as it sets," interrupted her antagonist, the voice dropping to sibilant tones. "You would be wise to heed the words of your elders, serpent child. This plan you pose? It has been tried, oh yes, it has been tried, and see such great success it wrought?" The laugh softened a fraction, a quality seeming now to Jayla as that of desperately concealed heart-break. "Yes, look, serpent child, upon the glorious victory our 'rising' purchased. How sweet is the fruit of our triumph!"

A snort of derision broke the onslaught, a heavy sigh, before the other female went on, "I find myself at a loss, child warrior, for how you would have not taken part in the banquet of our spoils! If I recall the day of celebration... Was it not the very day you and the rest of your snivelling assembly were dragged upon these rotting boards, that the men worked to wash the blood of three of my dearest friends off into the sea?"

Jayla's blood ran chill, the air in the room seeming to turn thick as a cooper's sealing resin. She opened her mouth to speak, yet found no words to pierce the shroud. What answer could she give to such bitterness, such sardonic presentation of horrific memory? Not for the first time, she wished for Kulus's presence at her side, to find the right words to salve these festered emotional wounds.

"I..." Jayla's thoughts scurried away from her as she attempted to gather them to rights. "Words are insufficient to air my grief for your loss, sister," she managed, her lips feeling thick and dry as parchment. "I entreat that you forgive my ignorance, I seek not to make light of these pains. Yet, what purpose could such violence serve these putrid creatures? A slave-price is no small sum, but not so great that they should be heedless to the loss of even the most quarrelsome of us." These tidings boded ill indeed, should these men's greed be tempered by the allure of entirely passive prisoners.

"Slave-price? Serpent child, truly your eyes see the world as a gilded place. These men hold hope for greater reward than the meagre auction block can afford." A bitter intertwining of growl and chuckle punctuated her words. "Yet, the weight of gold they shall gain from selling our honour in brothels is one that can afford them some losses, though they will surely grumble over the coins lost to the sea with the blood of my two friends."

A lightning bolt out of a clear sky could not have shocked Jayla greater. But, were even these louts capable of such degradation? Were their lives of such little value that they could stoop so low? The question still begged, but utter silence gripped the hold, like a choking fist about her throat, bringing no answers from any quarter. The drought within her throat grated, leaving her unable to muster any further words.

The new-found knowledge burned at Jalya's mind like a live coal, her breaths coming labored. She could never submit to such a fate! Frivolous promiscuity, the loss of her purity for worthless material gain... It was an abomination against the foundations of the tenets themselves! Such acts were not meant to be squandered upon any stranger with coin. This was a sacred thing, the sharing of the intimacies of her body, a bond unbreakable that was to be held between she and only one other. Death would claim her before she would allow them to foist corruption upon her!

And what of the others? Had their will been so depleted, that they should be willing to give their pride away upon demand? Would they so easily sacrifice their morals upon the altar of depravity, sins unknown, and a sordid reputation? This seemed a feeble existence to cling to, not one which they could uphold -a grasping darkness greater than the pall of death.

The gloom fragmented in an explosion of blinding sunlight, and the clattering thump of the hatch door swinging wide. Jayla winced, curling her form as if the light itself were the enemy, catching no more than the silhouette of a man stumbling down the stairs, a lantern in hand. Mercifully, the door banged closed behind him, shrinking the glare to the light he held aloft, highlighting his features in stark contrast.

"Ahoy, mey beautiful and succulent lot," he intoned, sweeping a crooked and mocking bow, his speech slurred almost beyond recognition. "Ye've landed yourselves upon a stroke o' fortune!" Her vision adjusted once more, Jayla looked up, treating him to an unseen glare of hostility. It was the lout who typically doled out their pitiful rations. A scrawny man in comparison to his fellows, rugged and unkempt, sprouting a beard of equal measure. He'd been far too free with the whip for the smallest of perceived indiscretions, proving a character as small as his form.

He stumbled a bit closer, lifting a flask of no doubt putrid content from his belt and swigging mouthfuls at a time. "We be nearin' yer new homes, me pretties, which means yer not going to have the pleasure of my company for much longer, pity as that is." He swung the lantern, the illumination casting over their huddled forms in a brief flash. "Oh come now, I said, ain't it a pity, me pretties?"

He was close enough now that Jayla could smell the vileness upon his breath, causing her nose to wrinkle, though it could have equally been due to his lack of hygiene. Odious man, why was he here at such an early hour? She had no precise method to mark the passing of time, yet she knew it was not so removed from the provision of breakfast as to warrant another dose of rations. The light swept her, revealing the drab pallor of greens her skin had taken, deprived of the sun for so long, in tandem with the dirt and filth soiling her, obscuring all of her darker markings into similar shades. z88;

"Ho, now which of ye lucky womenfolk wishes for the first tumble?" he called out brashly, waving the sloshing flask high, as if in salute to some god of drunkenness. His movements brought to mind a young blitzle, just finding its hooves for the first time, as he swung the lantern in arcs of brightness, surveying the captives. "Avast! Such sullen faces I see. Allow me scupper those doldrums for a spell, eh?" He cackled roughly as he peered around the hold, belching another blast of foul breath into Jayla's face, making her sneeze.

Eying Jayla's response to him, his attention averted to her, much as she'd tried to avoid it, shielding her eyes from the light and his gaze. "What have we here? Big lass ye are, way they should be, ripe for pickin's." Stooping, he reached down to the tip of her tail, a smile on his visage that drew chills down her back. She withdrew it closer into her, flinching from his greasy touch, hissing softly.

The wheezes of laughter left him, turned to musing on the response he attained from her. He stood upright again, his gaze sweeping over the pale skin of her face, latching onto her red-pupils to stare, probing. z88;Vulgar, devoid of compassion, even his eyes made her feel his taint. "Oho! Defiant little lass ain't ye? A bit o' fight still left in ye?" He stretched out, trailing a filthy fingertip down her neck, tracing the line where powder-white skin met lush forest green. Hissing with greater vehemence now, she attempted to withdraw from him, but her bonds would not permit it. Oddly, this seemed to please him.

"Now now, me pretty, ye wouldn't be so cruel as to deny a man who's been long at sea, would ye? Me mates ain't nearly so fair on the eyes, and lack a certain quality o' body that only ye ladyfolk possess." His touch grew more aggressive, pinching the flared ruff about her neck, his eyes roving. "Such a pretty lass, all snaky and lithe, makes a man mighty curious about what ye are hidin' under that tail!"

Unable to withstand such proximity any longer, Jayla bucked wildly, jerking against her bonds and throwing him back a pace, his flask dropping to the creaking floor with a clatter. Pain sprung around her neck and tail, cold steel biting into her skin, yet at least the tightness in her chest brought on by this foul brute's presence was momentarily eased. Her heart thudded wildly as she glared silent invectives at him, unwilling to grace him with words he would not understand in any case.

'I may not have use of the strength of my body, but I am not yet helpless!'

With another boorish snort of laughter, the man broke from the prison of her gaze, hooking the lantern to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Unbuckling his belt, he commented, "Feisty lass indeed! Maybe ye I should break first on me mantle?" His trousers dropped to the floor, leaving only a thin, soiled undergarment to cover his private region and upper thighs, which he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of as he advanced upon her once more. "Don't be afeared of me, dearie, I've no wish to be harsh with ye, so best to settle down and not feel the back o' my hand, eh?"

Unacceptable. She refused to be taken this way! There was little thought, only the impulse of action, flashing through her form like a streak of flame, her muscles tensing, awaiting his approach, the moment when he reached out to touch her again... She lashed out, whipping her head down and forward, gritting her teeth against the impact that followed, her ears ringing with the man's bubbling shriek as something crunched beneath her forehead. He fell away, leaving a hot smear upon her brow as she straightened, glaring and hissing down at his writhing form, his hands thrown up to his face.

"Me beak! Ye pox riddled, flea-bitten, thrice-cursed, cheap dock whore! What've ye done to me beak!"

His hand came away, stained red, more crimson liquid bubbling from the ruin of his nose as he glared myopically up at her, summoning the wherewithal to roll to a sitting position. A hint of perverse pride swelled through Jayla, seeing the damage she had caused, putting a halt to his amorous intentions. Slowly, he stumbled to his feet, his visage twisted in rage, one hand still clutching his mangled nose.

"Ye've done it now, me pretty doxy. Ye will need to be taught respect for yer menfolk the painful way, methinks!" He fumbled around on the floor, seizing the handle of his whip from his belt.

Jayla tensed, rattling her chains as she coiled up and hissed warning at him, baring her fangs as he advanced. Above her, she could hear men shouting on the deck, and someone began banging on the hatch door. More were coming, likely to assist their fellow sailor. Let them come. She refused to give in, to allow them to make her their victim. She'd die a warrior's death, not that of a shamed coward! Let them come!

~~~~~*~~~~~