5
Cyfe woke up.
He sat up, and rubbed is head. It felt like someone was beating hammers inside of it. He turned over slightly and lay back down again. He hadn't opened his eyes yet because they felt to heavy. There was the usual smell of salt spray and the ocean, which he was used to. Cyfe felt the ground which he was resting on. It was wood, not the same hard wood as on the deck of the Emprone, but more of a weak, rotting wood. He could feel the moisture in it, and then he realized that that same moisture was all over his back, because he had been laying on it.
Cyfe opened his eyes. What he saw made his heart drop. He was in a wooden cage, on the bottom deck of a ship, which was composed of rotting wood. He looked around in the dim light. He could make out the form of Rukoe, lying on the deck a few inches away. There were others inside also, one in particular that stood out above the rest. He was a meature, but his fur was missing in places all over his body. He was only dressed in baggy blue pantaloons, complimented by a purple sash. On the spots void of fur he had tattoos, most of which depicted large fierce animals and fish.
The meature only had one visible eye. The other was covered by a large seashell, held on by a black leather strap. He was a large creature, and looked like he would have been quite strong if he had been able to get more food. His ribs showed through his dark scraggly fur.
The one eye, which was very light blue, with a very large pupil, shifted it's gaze from Rukoe to Cyfe. Cyfe recoiled from the strange looking creature, but couldn't move far because the wooden bars blocked him.
"Nice day fer sailin' ain't it." The strange meature had a very harsh and raspy voice, which sounded as though he had swallowed a great deal of dry sand. "To bad it has t' be on this rottin' tub."
Cyfe forced himself to say something, but he couldn't help but stare at the strange eye. Meatures usually had dark brown eyes. "Where are we?" he asked.
"Aboard th' good ship Leechdeck. Right nice pretty name ain't it." The meature looked at Rukoe. "You an' that fellow were brought in here last night. Plumb unconscious you was. Funny that they only took youse two from yer ship. My names Irol. My friends call me Irol, my enemies can't call me anything 'cause they're to busy screamin'. My ole' general christened me Irol The Wild after my first battle. What's your name?"
"I'm Cyfe. That's Rukoe. Do you know a way we can get off this ship?" Cyfe asked eagerly.
Irol began to laugh. "Har Har, well now ain't you the funny one. If I knew a way out o' here d'you think I'd still be sittin' here?" Cyfe's face fell. "Actually I does know a way out o' here. All we gots t' do is rally the slaves an' take over the ship. Sounds easy enough don't it."
"I don't think that's very funny." Cyfe said. He had gotten hopeful when Irol had said that he knew a way out. "Why are we in this cage?"
"Oh the Cap'n, Sholabar, always puts new captives in here in order to break 'em. He ain't a very nice fellow. In fact he's downright cruel. After he has someone flogged he pours sea water on 'em t' cool 'em down. That sea water don't feel nice on cuts, let me tell you. However, he is quite stupid. He didn't figger that sea water would help t' heal cuts, but it does. I know what your thinkin'. If he bees so dumb 'ow did 'e catch me? Well I was sleepin' on the shore, out in the open. On the continent. Pretty foolish aye? Anyways some 'o his me found me an' they clubbed me. Next thing I knew I was in here." Cyfe could tell that Irol didn't really have anyone to talk to on the boat. All the other captives had probably heard his story a lot already.
"So why are you down here now? He didn't just catch you did he?" Cyfe questioned.
"Har Har no. I been on this 'ere ship for three full moons. 'E just has me put down 'ere for a while because sometimes I get exited, an' kill one o' his crew. I never gets the chance to get me paws around 'is neck though. One o' these days I'm hopin' to. I've tried to escape quite a few times, but it never works out. All the others 'ave been 'ere to long to get any wild idears about exscapin'. None 'o them ever 'elp me t' overthrow the pirates. I'm hopin' that someone 'll come along one 'o these days that 'll join me. Mabey it's you an' your friend there. Speaking o' wich, 'es comin' around right now."
Cyfe looked over just in time to see Rukoe sit up. "Hi Rukoe, glad you could wake up. This here is Irol, a meature like yourself." Cyfe had warmed up to Irol by this time.
"'Ow d' you do mate?" Irol offered a large, callused paw.
"Just fine, thanks." Rukoe shook Irol's paw and then put his paw on his head.
"Except that I got a splittin' headache." Rukoe didn't seem at all disturbed by Irol's haggard appearance. "What are we doin' on this stinkin' tub?" Rukoe sat back against the bars of the cage.
Cyfe told him about the boat and it's master. Then he had a question for Irol.
"So how long do they usually keep us down here?"
"Oh you been down here for a night an' a day, you'll probably get put to the oars tomorrow mornin', same as me." Irol looked up at the roof of the compartment and the top deck. "You'll get food then. They wants t' weaken you down a bit afore they let you to yer our. They don't want you t' try an' excape. We'd best get some sleep. You won't get any tomorrow at the oar, that's fer sure."
Cyfe lay down with his head on his arm. It took a while for him to get to sleep. While he was awake, he looked at the other prisoners of the little cell. There were some meatures, but mostly humans. The few meatures that were there, other than Irol were strong, and young. None of them looked like they had been on the ship long. One was trying to gnaw his way through the bars, but all he got was a few shards of strong oak stuck in his tongue. The others on the boat were all thin and guant. Their clothes, or what was left of them hung from their bodies, because they were so thin. Cyfe felt a deep urge in his heart that he had to help these people. How he did that, he didn't know.
Cyfe woke up.
He sat up, and rubbed is head. It felt like someone was beating hammers inside of it. He turned over slightly and lay back down again. He hadn't opened his eyes yet because they felt to heavy. There was the usual smell of salt spray and the ocean, which he was used to. Cyfe felt the ground which he was resting on. It was wood, not the same hard wood as on the deck of the Emprone, but more of a weak, rotting wood. He could feel the moisture in it, and then he realized that that same moisture was all over his back, because he had been laying on it.
Cyfe opened his eyes. What he saw made his heart drop. He was in a wooden cage, on the bottom deck of a ship, which was composed of rotting wood. He looked around in the dim light. He could make out the form of Rukoe, lying on the deck a few inches away. There were others inside also, one in particular that stood out above the rest. He was a meature, but his fur was missing in places all over his body. He was only dressed in baggy blue pantaloons, complimented by a purple sash. On the spots void of fur he had tattoos, most of which depicted large fierce animals and fish.
The meature only had one visible eye. The other was covered by a large seashell, held on by a black leather strap. He was a large creature, and looked like he would have been quite strong if he had been able to get more food. His ribs showed through his dark scraggly fur.
The one eye, which was very light blue, with a very large pupil, shifted it's gaze from Rukoe to Cyfe. Cyfe recoiled from the strange looking creature, but couldn't move far because the wooden bars blocked him.
"Nice day fer sailin' ain't it." The strange meature had a very harsh and raspy voice, which sounded as though he had swallowed a great deal of dry sand. "To bad it has t' be on this rottin' tub."
Cyfe forced himself to say something, but he couldn't help but stare at the strange eye. Meatures usually had dark brown eyes. "Where are we?" he asked.
"Aboard th' good ship Leechdeck. Right nice pretty name ain't it." The meature looked at Rukoe. "You an' that fellow were brought in here last night. Plumb unconscious you was. Funny that they only took youse two from yer ship. My names Irol. My friends call me Irol, my enemies can't call me anything 'cause they're to busy screamin'. My ole' general christened me Irol The Wild after my first battle. What's your name?"
"I'm Cyfe. That's Rukoe. Do you know a way we can get off this ship?" Cyfe asked eagerly.
Irol began to laugh. "Har Har, well now ain't you the funny one. If I knew a way out o' here d'you think I'd still be sittin' here?" Cyfe's face fell. "Actually I does know a way out o' here. All we gots t' do is rally the slaves an' take over the ship. Sounds easy enough don't it."
"I don't think that's very funny." Cyfe said. He had gotten hopeful when Irol had said that he knew a way out. "Why are we in this cage?"
"Oh the Cap'n, Sholabar, always puts new captives in here in order to break 'em. He ain't a very nice fellow. In fact he's downright cruel. After he has someone flogged he pours sea water on 'em t' cool 'em down. That sea water don't feel nice on cuts, let me tell you. However, he is quite stupid. He didn't figger that sea water would help t' heal cuts, but it does. I know what your thinkin'. If he bees so dumb 'ow did 'e catch me? Well I was sleepin' on the shore, out in the open. On the continent. Pretty foolish aye? Anyways some 'o his me found me an' they clubbed me. Next thing I knew I was in here." Cyfe could tell that Irol didn't really have anyone to talk to on the boat. All the other captives had probably heard his story a lot already.
"So why are you down here now? He didn't just catch you did he?" Cyfe questioned.
"Har Har no. I been on this 'ere ship for three full moons. 'E just has me put down 'ere for a while because sometimes I get exited, an' kill one o' his crew. I never gets the chance to get me paws around 'is neck though. One o' these days I'm hopin' to. I've tried to escape quite a few times, but it never works out. All the others 'ave been 'ere to long to get any wild idears about exscapin'. None 'o them ever 'elp me t' overthrow the pirates. I'm hopin' that someone 'll come along one 'o these days that 'll join me. Mabey it's you an' your friend there. Speaking o' wich, 'es comin' around right now."
Cyfe looked over just in time to see Rukoe sit up. "Hi Rukoe, glad you could wake up. This here is Irol, a meature like yourself." Cyfe had warmed up to Irol by this time.
"'Ow d' you do mate?" Irol offered a large, callused paw.
"Just fine, thanks." Rukoe shook Irol's paw and then put his paw on his head.
"Except that I got a splittin' headache." Rukoe didn't seem at all disturbed by Irol's haggard appearance. "What are we doin' on this stinkin' tub?" Rukoe sat back against the bars of the cage.
Cyfe told him about the boat and it's master. Then he had a question for Irol.
"So how long do they usually keep us down here?"
"Oh you been down here for a night an' a day, you'll probably get put to the oars tomorrow mornin', same as me." Irol looked up at the roof of the compartment and the top deck. "You'll get food then. They wants t' weaken you down a bit afore they let you to yer our. They don't want you t' try an' excape. We'd best get some sleep. You won't get any tomorrow at the oar, that's fer sure."
Cyfe lay down with his head on his arm. It took a while for him to get to sleep. While he was awake, he looked at the other prisoners of the little cell. There were some meatures, but mostly humans. The few meatures that were there, other than Irol were strong, and young. None of them looked like they had been on the ship long. One was trying to gnaw his way through the bars, but all he got was a few shards of strong oak stuck in his tongue. The others on the boat were all thin and guant. Their clothes, or what was left of them hung from their bodies, because they were so thin. Cyfe felt a deep urge in his heart that he had to help these people. How he did that, he didn't know.