The captain of the Ifrit looked over the bow into the emerald green waters of the ocean. They were three days from fisherman's horizon, where they intended to sell this latest catch, taken by gunpoint from the unwilling citizens of Dollet. The skipper fondly recalled his last experience in Dollet. Daring to move his team from their post in search of a more active role for the battlefield. That is what Dollet was at the time. A war ground. He led his team to the old abandoned radio tower. Seifer could remember being chased by the spider machine, as he had called it. Always a step ahead of Squall, Chicken-wuss and the Messenger Girl. He saw it as survival of the fittest, or more accurately, the most well adaptive. A cold voice brought the reminiscent captain back to reality.
"Captain, Galbadian warships coming quickly. What course of action do you recommend.?" First Mate Fujin inquired sternly. The seasoned, unnecessarily loud woman had seen her share of conflict. Since the two had known each other she had always been this way. Cold, distant, yet at the same time, strangely close to Seifer. The trio had shared only brief words concerning her past. Seifer discerned more from the explanation than Fujin let on. Seifer figured her father was sexually abusive to her and her sister, one day she had enough and killed him. It sounded simple enough. Her sister was killed on the run perhaps. She never spoke more about it than the one time.
Seifer rolled his eyes. "How many more times do we have to kill their sailors before they let us alone. Pathetic" Seifer looked to the horizon, 4 warships. A formidable foe, but something wasn't right. The ships were not fitted with cannons. The spaces reserved for instruments of war, gunpowder and magic were now filled with bodies. Able bodied men, armed to the teeth. Some two-bit mercenaries, some former SeeDs. Captain Almasy bit his lip.
The Ifrit could easily outrun the encroaching Galbadians. However, that would be no fun. Seifer was in this not only for the money, but the sport of it. Piracy was punishable by death, that hardly stopped the young knight. Almasy grumbled and began rolling around options in his head. His crew could likely dispatch them, but not all at once. He had little choice. He could run the ship aground and dismount, hiding in the forests near Shumi. Shumi winters were unforgiving and the captain of the vessel knew this. Grounding his ship wouldn't be the best idea here. So he could either fight, or be executed. The choice, if you could call it that, was simple.
Seifer ordered the anchor dropped. This would be a battle for the survivors to remember. The Ifrit dropped it's anchor and the crew of the ship turned the cannons to face the interceptors. A steady stream of lead poured down on the opposing faction. The sun was going down fast, this would be a dark battle indeed.
Rounds from the Ifrit rained down on the Galbadian sailors, killing an handful of deckhands. The Galbadians approached quickly, the first ship leveling with the Ifrit.
Seifer, Rajin and the crew began tossing spells at the enemy like they were nothing. A flurry of elements pushed over into the ship attempting to board the Ifrit. Ice, flame, electricity, earth, water, gravity, and darkness flew at the enemy in force. A prism of colorful, yet deadly spells pierced the heart of many a soldier. The blood began to flow freely, pooling on the deck and sloshing into the waters turning it as black as midnight. The remaining Galbadians managed to muster themselves into a quantifiable attack. The soldiers charged the ship. Steel clashed, sweat and blood flew in lines from their origins. Grunts and yells, screams and pleads. It blended into the night sky as Seifer's crew began killing the soldiers mercilessly.
The Valiant's shots rang out in rapid succession. Irvine was killing the Galbadians apathetically. He had changed after Quistis died. The once passionate playful eyes had all but vanished from the soldier, replaced by a cold grey stare. Instead of wasting his time wooing women he now purchased them at a whim. He had the money to throw around and that is all that mattered to the spurned sniper. Kinneas grabbed an enemy commando by his hair and shoved the valiant under his chin with a squeeze of the trigger the cowboy's face was covered in thick ink.
Selphie regarded her long time friend apprehensively before she shrugged it off. Even she had lost her sense of happy-go-lucky. Timlitt was not what she once was. The happiness was gone. Her innocence was replaced by a devil-may-care attitude. She often took to death defying actions for no more reason than the thrill. Selphie Timlitt now only cared about one thing. Stealing and Killing. The years had changed everyone, Selphie the most notably. She exchanged her bright yellow dress for something more practical for her line of work. She wore a very short pair of leather shorts, a bright red thong visible on the woman's hips at times. A tight tank top of leather and her hair was heavily curled. She wore a bright ruby lipstick and high heeled stilettos. Selphie often used her sexual appeal to get the job done. Fujin resented her open display of her body but could not deny the uses of it.
Selphie swung her morning star roughly at an approaching soldier, splitting his nose and causing his vision to blur. The man clutched his nose and backed away, terrified of what his lack of vision may bring. Before the Galbadian was able to come to his senses a swift lash of a blade removed his head from his shoulders. The head rolled from his body, eyes fixated on nothingness, blood pooling around the base of the removed head. The body continued to gush the inky liquid forth, bathing the deck. The moon illuminated the blood as a dark, thick substance. The crew wore it as a badge of honor.