It felt good to have the wind in her hair; the red tresses fluttering around as the salt that clung heavily in the air stuck to the ends, nearly matting it against her face. The spray of the sea and the groans of the men below deck trying to best each other at a game of dice while the ship rocked back and forth. A good fourteen months had passed since she had left the Abbey and she no longer practiced her sacred arts and she no longer wore robes of the scholars. These days she wore form fitting leather breeches and large, well-worn canvas blouses. Her red hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and often covered by a greasy bandana. With a thoughtful frown tugging on her lips, she recalled exactly how she came to be on the pirate ship: The Callypso.

Running through Capel Ceywyn , it wasn't long before someone had noticed a young woman caked in blood that was obviously not her own. The Guard didn't hesitate to take her in. With no one to vouch for her, the Abbey unaware she had been taken in, and her own refusal to speak-- she was locked into the stockades beneath Capel Ceywyn's sewers. For good three or four months she spent in her cell, often brooding over what had transpired and the look of confusion in the man's eyes. While she sat in her dark, murky cell with what little clothing she still had on; in the world above, the Guard had once again changed its leader and its policies. Murderers, rapists, people of a less than benign reason for being in the stockades were to be sent away to an island where they would remain prisoners of the crown and be under constant surveillance. Although no one could prove what Sayuri had done, she was to be sent away with them.

During the rocky boat trip, she had somehow been thrown overboard. Riding the current, the ship didn't seem too concerned of her absence to go back for her or to save her from the dark, stormy waves. Fearing she would drown, she figured it was the Light's will that she die a horribly tragic death... alone... like Benny. However, she was more than surprised when she felt the sting of sun and sand on her cheeks. Peering up, somehow, she had come upon the shore with a pile of driftwood. The waves continued to crash up on her-- but the feel of freedom was not something she was going to take lightly. Laughing, she kissed the ground; perceiving this moment as a second chance from the Light, itself. She would not die. She was to live on. She was forgiven. However, as fate would have it, she happened to stumble upon a group of pirates who had been camping out after docking their ship.

Their captain was a pudgy man; dark haired, greasy and with an accent that was as smooth as any expensive silk. If he didn't have a bulbous nose or beady black eyes, one may have mistaken him for a handsome man... provided they were drunk... really drunk. Lifting his bulky frame from where he was reclining, he looked the buxom, washed-up beauty over. Her looks were slightly marred by the seaweed that clung to her and the dirt from her travels. "Naga? Mermaid?" he asked, inquiring as to where she came from.

"Neither," she replied-- her voice hoarse from the salt that still wracked her throat. The man nodded at her reply and paced back and forth as his underlings chuckled with sinister thoughts.

"My name is Senor Vallarta and I am the captain of the Callypso. Now that you've seen my crew and our ship, we can't possibly let you go... alive. However, I am in a predicament. Recently, we caught a crew member stealing jewels. Cale, that maggot you see tied up over there was about to be put to death before you showed up..." He explained, pointing to a man dressed in rather colorful slacks and a torn white blouse bound with his hands behind his back and his face mashed into the sand.

"I wasn't stealing!" Cale protested with a frown before having it shoved back into the dirt.

"Honor among thieves," Sayuri chuckled a bit as the thought came to her.

"Precisely. I was going to kill him, but there are people in my crew who would see him released because he has been a loyal crewmember. However, if I do that, I would quickly lose control of my whole crew. So, you showing up is a blessing in disguise. It gives us the chance to allow the maggot to live, if he should best you, or gain a new crew member if you should best him. Else I could kill you both now and save me trouble." He smirked. Sayuri widened her eyes a bit, nut not enough that one would notice her fear. All her life she was trained to save lives, not take them. When she landed on this shore, she was adamant that the Light was to save her-- but now she knew better... it was fate.

"Then I will gladly kill your friend, the maggot." She replied with a half-hearted smile. Senor Vallarta chuckled deep in the recesses of his massive gut and placed a small switchblade near Sayuri. She peered up at him, questioning his motives.

“Be wary, girl, Cale is the greatest knife-fighter I’ve ever seen.” Vallarta commented with a sly, wolfish grin.

“Then perhaps you need to get out more…” Sayuri retorted. Benny was no longer here. If she needed to say something, she would have to say it; for fear that she may not have a second chance. Vallarta laughed a bit at the comment and nodded. He motioned for one of the crewmembers, a rather sour-looking Sin’Dorei to release Cale, who himself, was a Sin’Dorei. Cale shoved the crewmember aside and picked up his switchblade, a glint of determination in his neon-jade eyes. Sayuri simply fumbled for hers—still lagging from the journey to shore.



Cale lunged for Sayuri, who countered his movement by turning to the side. Both fell to the sand and scrambled a bit to get to their feet. With a grunt of disapproval, Cale lunged again, this time thrusting his whole arm out as if it were a sword and praying the tip would bury itself into Sayuri’s side. Sayuri, surprisingly enough, had learned small combat skills while she was in her prison cell. In the stockades, no one asked you when you wanted to eat. No one gave you the chance to. You had to fight for what you wanted, and most of the time, Sayuri lost. She was starving, a little skinnier than when she had left the Abbey and too relieved to be alive to allow herself to die. However, she was a follower of the Light. She couldn’t rightfully allow this man’s blood to stain her hands as Benny’s had. There was no guarantee that the Light would forgive her twice. As Cale lunged, she thrust her own arm out and tucked it around his, allowing his arm to hook around her side. When he was close enough, she jabbed her knee into the soft portion of his belly and hooked his hand upwardly to get him to release the blade, which, he did, unwillingly. As the wind was forced from him, she pushed him to the ground to pin him down, her knee pushing deeply into the elf's chest. Cale starred wide-eyed up at Sayuri as if he had never lost a fight before, least of all to a woman.

"Stay still, or I will finish the job," she ordered to him in a hushed tone. Cale nodded as he looked up to where Senor Vallarta was sitting with a bemused smirk on his face. "Senor Vallarta, if I kill this man, you will still be short a crew member. I am not physically strong, but I can heal the wounded. If you agree, take us both on your ship. Those that want Cale's freedom will have it. Those that wanted to see some sport have seen it. Have us and you will yet have two sailors at your disposal." She counteroffered with a sigh. Vallarta rubbed his Dwarven beard and nodded.

"Suit yourself," Vallarta agreed, despite the soft groans of his underlings.

Sayuri lifted herself off of Helin, but not before he grabbed her by the collar and brought her in close to his face. In a harsh voice, thick with Thalassian accent, he made her a vow: "From this day forth, I am your man." Sayuri smirked a bit and patted his cheek.

"I know." She replied, helping the Sin'Dorei to his feet. Vallarta turned on his heel and looked the woman over. It had been a long while since there was a female on his ship that wasn't there to loot, plunder or bed his men, so she intrigued him. she was far too skinny for his tastes, but her face was unquestionably pretty. He figured in the back of his mind that she was a runaway from some convent or worse, some abusive husband.

"So, woman, you have a name?" He asked, chuckling a bit.

Sayuri parted her lips to respond, but she figured she couldn't completely trust these men, yet. Although the Guard didn't seem too worried about her name or where she had come from, she figured it wouldn't stop them from finding her. She also figured the Abbey was out looking for her, so using her given name was out of the question. "No. I have no name," she responded a little quietly.

"Fine," Vallarta said, stroking his beard a little more. She had somewhat justified his thoughts in her response, but it wouldn't deter him from taking on a crewmember who was gifted in the art of healing. "Then we shall call you, Zahenda."

"Zahenda? Sounds fearsome," she chuckled a bit, trying the sound of her name on her tongue.

"It means driftwood," Vallarta explained as the group chuckled at her expense.

(To be continued...)

Sounds good so far...

I just felt the urge to kill Benny off in the first paragraph. She'll be back, though. No one ever dies for long.

Yep, that's practically a rule. Nobody really dies, they just take a short dirt nap until resurrected by the writer (or in some cases, writers who make fanfics of fanfics).

Don't think you're exempt, Madame Devin. I have much planned for you in this story. *rubs hands together*

Oh, really?
Well, as long as my character hates people in general (with a few exceptions), you should be good to go.

Do you think I would disrespect you like that? Come on. This is me we're discussing here.

Exactly. One never knows exactly what to expect when you're involved.

If I had a soul... I would have died a little on the inside with that comment.

Admit it, you thought it was flattering.

Interesting...


Interesting....


Yeah, I suck at critiquing anything more than proper grammar and most of the time fanfics aren't meant to be critiqued as they are purely for the enjoyment of the writer. Or the people in the Jibber Jabber thread. *cough* Um, well, I like it thus far.

I was flattered, but not in the same context. (Damn Filipino food.)

@Ryan: I never take grammar into consideration. I just write.