Skull Pirate!

Before the first light of dawn pierced the horizon, a thick mist clung to the ocean's surface like a ghostly veil.

On the prow of the formidable pirate ship "Skull," stood "Roshan" Salem Blois, a towering figure stretching nearly two meters tall. Clad in a heavy coat that barely contained his massive, bloated frame, a menacing scimitar hung at his waist. He resembled a colossal, formidable figure drawn straight from myth. The crew, a hard-bitten lot, regarded him with a mix of fear and reverence, their eyes wide with a palpable tension as they sneaked furtive glances his way.

Peering through the swirling mist at the shadowy outline of the "Black Rose" in the distance, "Roshan" Salem's stout face remained stoic, betraying no hint of emotion. Yet beneath that impassive exterior, a storm of thoughts raged. While piracy often meant plundering without discrimination, attacks among pirate ships were rare, reserved for times of significant conflict where the potential gains outweighed the risks of battle and bloodshed.

This audacious assault on the "Black Rose" under the cloak of night was spurred not by the lure of loot but by covert directives from mysterious, powerful benefactors. "Roshan" Salem's rise from obscurity to the notorious captain of the "Skull" and a formidable figure at sea had not been a tale of mere chance or hard work. It was orchestrated by shadowy patrons who had smoothed his path with strategic assistance and potent magical potions necessary for his ascension in the pirate hierarchy.

In return, Salem served their clandestine agendas, a secret allegiance that brought him not only survival but prosperity. The rewards for such missions were bountiful, making the arrangement a lucrative one for a man of his ruthless ambition.

As for fears of retribution? A scoff would be his answer. Already a marked man by the Royal Navy, what more could possibly haunt a pirate already dancing on the knife's edge of danger?

For this particular mission, the stakes were higher than ever. His benefactors demanded the complete elimination of all aboard the "Black Rose," with particular emphasis on a certain "Ryan Leland," rumored to be the "bloody son." To ensure the success of this grim task, his patrons had equipped him with a lethal, arcane weapon, shrouded in secrecy yet promised to be devastatingly effective.

Allam snorted dismissively.

His scorn was not directed at the formidable secret weapon they had been granted, but rather at their target: the [Black Rose].

Among pirates, there existed an unwritten hierarchy, a system of classification as varied and intricate as the stars in the sky. This pecking order was chiefly determined by the bounty the Royal Navy placed on their heads, a grim price tag that declared their worth and threat level along the treacherous waters of Silver Moon Bay.

Pirates with bounties ranging from 0 to 999 pounds were deemed low-tier, hardly worth the Navy's attention. These were often solitary figures or small, ragtag groups, easily dismissed with a modest price on their heads.

Those with a bounty between 1,000 and 3,000 pounds were considered novice pirates. They posed a real threat, though they hadn't quite made a mark in the professional pirate circles. Typically, these pirates operated in bands of twenty to thirty, relying on sheer numbers rather than skill or strategy.

Above the 3,000-pound threshold were the seasoned pirates, those who had truly professionalized their dark craft. These formidable captains commanded well-organized crews and fleets, earning them significant notoriety and higher bounties.

The [Black Rose] fell squarely among the novice category, with its captain valued at either 1,000 or 1,500 pounds, a sum so trivial that "Roshan" Salem could scarcely recall the exact amount. To him, such groups had previously been unworthy of even a glance.

In contrast, "Roshan" Salem himself boasted a staggering bounty of 18,000 pounds, placing him among the elite in the pirate world. The disparity in strength and status between him and his lesser counterparts was monumental.

With a fierce glint in his eye, he bellowed, "Full speed ahead! Kill!"

"Leave no one alive!"

Drawing his scimitar with a flourish, he pointed it towards the [Black Rose] shimmering in the distance and roared, "Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

His crew responded with a bloodthirsty zeal, their cries reverberating across the deck. They gazed towards the approaching three-masted ship, their eyes alight with the cold, merciless hunger of wolves spotting their prey.

"Report, Captain! We've spotted the pirate ship [Skull] to the northwest!"

"And it's led by 'Roshan' Salem, the man with an 18,000-pound bounty on his head!"

A palpable dread swept over the crew. "We're doomed," one muttered under his breath, the sentiment echoing silently through the ranks.

As word of the [Skull]'s proximity circulated, a visible tremor of fear ran through the crew of the [Black Rose]. In the perilous waters off Silver Moon Bay, the [Skull] was nothing short of an overlord, a tyrannical force leaving a wake of destruction. Merchant vessels unlucky enough to cross their path were left desolate, their crews slaughtered. Any pirate foolhardy enough to challenge them was swiftly reduced to mere bones and memories.

A pirate ship of this caliber had the might to venture far beyond the coastal waters into the deeper, uncharted seas. The crew of the [Black Rose] grappled with the unnerving mystery of why such a formidable adversary had marked them for confrontation.

Just as fear threatened to take hold and chaos loomed, a commanding voice cut through the tension.

"Everyone, back to your stations now!"

"Rigging crew, hoist the top sail! Helmsman, steady the rudder and push us to maximum speed."

"Disobey, and you'll answer to me!"

The voice carried an authoritative gravity that resonated deep, compelling the pirates to snap into action, each man moving swiftly to his post.

Ryan looked up, his gaze settling on Captain Freni and Knight Cecilia emerging from the captain's cabin. The first thing that caught his eye was Freni's distinctive, flamboyant witch hat, its tip bent at a jaunty angle that nearly begged for someone to straighten it.

Yet, surprisingly, the stern orders had not come from Captain Freni. Standing resolute beside her, it was Knight Cecilia who had rallied the crew with her formidable presence.

The pale silver chainmail shirt clung to the girl's form, accentuating her strong yet gentle curves. The unsheathed sword at her waist gleamed sharply, its presence both formidable and dazzling.

Ryan found himself marveling at her apparent knowledge of naval tactics as he observed her command.

Under Knight Cecilia's decisive orders, the crew of the [Black Rose] hustled, pushing the ship to pick up speed. Though the [Skull], ever looming and menacing, continued to close the gap, the increased pace gave them a shred of hope, a buffer against the inevitable.

Ryan's eyes were fixed on the [Skull] behind them. Its flag, a ghastly white skull on a tattered backdrop, whipped in the sea breeze, mocking the desperate efforts of the [Black Rose]'s crew. Despite their best efforts, the gap continued to close, a stark reminder of the disparity in their ships' performances.

Ryan's expression grew grim.

From behind, the light tap of footsteps approached. Turning, Ryan saw Captain Freni join him at the rail. Unlike Cecilia, who commanded from the crow's nest, Freni's approach was less imposing but no less significant.

Standing beside Ryan, Freni extended a slender finger towards the ghostly silhouette of the [Skull] through the mist. In a hushed tone, she asked, "Mr. Ryan, do you feel it? That strong, inexorable pull?"

Ryan paused before replying, "I feel it."

"Captain, the wind is from the northeast, force five, with no signs of changing soon. If this continues, they'll catch us, it's only a matter of time."

Freni lowered her hand, her massive witch hat bobbing slightly with the motion. She nodded subtly, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "Indeed," she murmured, "but who said anything about running away?"