Word count: 503| Completed: No | Style: Adventure, yarr!

The gentle lapping of the waves greets my waking mind. Kur, my only company for the claustrophobic past three weeks is leaning gently against the wall, watching my hunched form through his good eye. He is a murderer. He killed five of his coven with his bare hands and managed to hide from the guards for a good two weeks. They finally found him by the thin trail of blood his slashed eye had left behind him.

I was afraid, at first, at the prospect of being locked in the dark with such a creature. When I had been thrust down the slippery stairs and caught a glimpse of his black skin, burning eye and shrivelled left ear I had nearly cried out in fright. The first evening was terrible – I curled in my blanket and was afraid to sleep lest he make me another of his victims. But after some time boredom became so potent I felt I must say something should I wish to stay sane.

And so we had begun to talk, this murderer and I. After a time I began to understand his motives, even respect them. I began to appreciate the high cheekbones and gently curved pointed ears all western Mahamma sport. Kur was a good man, trapped by his debts into helping a Molina cult in their horrendous study of the dark magics. He had seen the coven attempting to conjure a daemon, and rather than allow the depths of it’s evil corrupt the western lands, he had rushed at them in desperation. The Imperial guards that found him knew he had actually committed a virtuous act, but their stolid orders to deny the existence of Molina worship had afforded them only one option: to treat Kur as a heartless criminal. He had quietly obeyed them, offering no resistance during his arrest. Even here, in this accursed forever rocking hull, he had sat patiently alone for who knows how long.

Now, as I stir and smile weakly up at Kur’s weathered face, I see such intelligence burning in his bright red eye.
“Wake up,” he says gently, backlit by a burning torch. Just as I start to pull the coarse blanket off myself, the door bursts open and another anonymous Imperial Guard glowers in.
“We’ve arrived. Follow me.”
Arrived where? I wasn’t aware I was supposed to be journeying anywhere. I thought that this was just another prison ship, moored somewhere on the Sour Coast and unmoving.
“You’d better do what he says.” Kur is tugging at my arm. I don’t want to leave him alone in this dark, dank cell. The guard grabs my wrist and pulls me bodily out the door, slamming it shut as soon as I’m clear. I hear the heavy bold slide shut, and turn to see Kur’s single red eye mournfully peering through a knothole. I follow the guard through the underbelly of the prison ship, almost deafened by the taunts and pleas of other prisoners as they see me pass.

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