Srednak mo Imduhl was a happy man who enjoyed his life and his job. His job was simple. Find a specific cargo, and make sure it reached Slaver's Bay in decent, workable condition, and then on to Lys, Astapor, and then back to New Ghis. The trick would be avoiding the city of New Ikkemon, for the shadar-kai sea patrols were numerous, and did not look kindly upon men in his venerable profession. All in all, it was a good few days.

"Tagor," he said.

At once, his first mate, a lanky Westerosi with a narrow face walked up. "Yes, my captain?"

"I would say that the past couple of days have been successful, would you not agree?"

"Yes, captain."

"Good. How long until we reach Slaver's Bay, then?"

Whatever Tagor was about to say was lost as a loud crack of thunder suddenly filled the air. As it did, fog began to roll in. A number of the sailors began muttering prayers.

Then, from the fog came the sound of horns. Loud and sharp, the sound pierced through the air like an lance through the heart.

Srednak could see the outline of another ship, larger and more powerful, heading through the fog toward them. Frowning, he reached for his myrrh spyglass that he kept belted to his waist, and raised it to his eye to get a better look at he As its mast came closer into the visibility of his myrish spyglass, Srednak felt his throat go dry with fear as he saw the flag; a hand clasping a jagged lightning bolt as it rose out of a rain sea. The flag of the Dkarri privateers. Beneath it flew another flag, this one emblazoned with a grey storm cloud with three lightning bolts.

"EVERYONE! PREPARE FOR BATTLE!" He found himself yelling.

Then came the arrows. Evil, barbed things that snag through the air, and hit fleshy targets. As everyone duck for what cover they could find, the enemy ship drew closer, a huge behemoth of black and grey wood.

Srednak ordered everyone down below. Those who were too slow were left outside as the hatch was closed. He could hear them begging to be let in.

Then, on the the other side of the hatch, they began to hear screams, shouting, the sounds of steel hitting flesh and bone, and then the sound of bodies hitting the floor above them. "Steady lads," Srednak whispered to his men, their swords, spears, and crossbows aimed at the closed hatch.

Suddenly, there was silence. To Srednak, it was more terrifying than the screams. Then, the doors shook with a might blow. Then another, and another. Then hatch was tore clean off its hinges, and battle was joined.

The enemy rushed in, and they were terrifying to behold. Shader-kai and shadowborn with piercings and scars and tattoos everywhere, and garbed in spiky leather armor emblazoned with demonic faces and spikes. When they roared their battle cries, Srednak could see that their teeth were sharpened to points. It was a massacre. His men were being slaughtered left and right. Some were not even fighting back, and were instead screaming in terror as they rocked back and forth in fetal positions. Srednak and the rest fought as hard as they could, until he felt cold steel pressed against his throat. All at once, the fighting stopped.

The man was huge, in a massive, muscular sort of way, and his face was obscured by a blue cloak and hood. Most odd was that he only had one hand (which was currently hold the sword at Srednak's throat), while his right hand ended in a smooth stump. Emblazoned upon his leather armor was a storm cloud with three thunderbolts. At once, Srednak knew who it was, and felt the fear-sweat beading and rolling off of his forehead in droves. This man was the one call the slaver's bane; the terror of the Narrow Sea; Mur-Kar, captain of The Mist of Shadows. There were many terrifying stories about him. One was that he was born of the storm itself. Another was that he slaughtered a slaving vessel's crew, and had the corpses hung from its rafters and sails, and then made the ship float into Mereen's harbor.

Srednak felt the man's eyes boring into his skull. He then spoke, in a voice as ragged as a lightning bolt yet strong as a thunder clap. "You have lost. Surrender now. Or die."

xxxx

Storalk was a shadar-kai of the Sisters. This who grew up on the islands were different from most of the mainlanders of Ikemmu. It was something he often thought about on slow days, or when he would rub the webbing between his fingers. His skin, like many others from his home, was covered in a translucent membrane, and was completely hairless. He often felt more at home on a ship or in the sea than on land. In the sea, there was a beautiful order to things, a simplistic rhythm, as it were. Perhaps that was why he made a good quartermaster. Because he liked order.

As quartermaster of The Mist of Shadows, Storalk's job was to make sure that everything ran smoothly. This was something that he took a quiet pride in doing during his ten years under the captainship of Mur-Kar. His eyes scanned everywhere as various crew members scuttled about the captured ship, carrying crates full of supplies and other necessities. Humming a small tune to himself, he gave occasional nods to the crew of shader-kai and shadowborn walking about their new prize. Most of the ships they raided were small things. Hardly worth keeping, and instead were stripped and scuttled for parts. But this ship, this was a keeper. Perhaps as the small beginnings of a fleet?

He came to a halt as he stepped onto a trap door. He looked down upon it. It was locked. He then looked up, and gestured to it. "What the fuck is this?"

"Apologies sir, but we cannot find the key. One of the Ghiscari must have thrown it over." Answered a crew member, a muscular shader-kai with shark tattoos on his arms and cheeks.

"Then take that fucking axe you have on your belt, and open it." Storalk said, his patience wearing thin.

The crew member blinked in embarrassment and then complied. Four hard strokes later, and the trap door was open. Emanating from the opening was a powerful stench, the stench of human waste, sweat, excrement, and death. Peering inside, Storalk could see many chained and huddled bodies. Men and women. Westerosi, Summer Islanders, and more. The looked up at him with watery eyes, which then blinked shut as sunlight filtered in.

Storalk sighed heavily. He then straightened up. "The captain should hear of this. Someone free these poor bastards. And get them something to eat."

xxxx

Srednak and the remainder of his crew found themselves on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. The shader-kai

Srednak was suddenly lifted up, his neck enclosed by one powerful hand. "If there is one thing I hate more than pirates, it is slavers. Truly there is no creature more vile, more lower than something like you."

As he dropped Srednak back to the floor, he began to inspect the rest of the crew. Suddenly, he stopped at Tagor. He then leaned down, and snatched something from Tagor's neck.

The medallion, from what Srednak dared to see, was a simple wooden thing emblazoned with a golden kraken. In the middle of the kraken's head was a red, lidless eye with a black slit. Perched on tow of the kraken's limbs was a crow.

Mur-Kar seemed to shake in rage, as iff seeing the medallion in his hand was the most offensive thing to him in existence. He then looked straight at Tagor, who seemed to be trying, and failing, not to whither under the powerful man's hooded gaze. Mur-Kar then spoke.

"What is an Ironborn doing on a Ghiscari slaver vessel?" When Tagor said nothing, Mur-Kar spat upon him, and began to turn and walk away. As he did, Tagor, who seemed to regain his wits, sneered and spoke something that sounded more like a prayer.

"The Crow's Eye will kill you all. He is the Drowned God given flesh. He will drown the world, and we will rule what comes forth. For what is dead can never..."

With a sudden roar, Mur-Kar unsheathed his sword, spun, and beheaded Tagor with one powerful swing. No one said anything. Wiping the bloody blade on the corpse's clothes, Mur-Kar gestured to Srednak and the rest of his crew. "Throw them into the sea. May Valkur have mercy on their souls."

xxxx

As the last slaver was sent screaming into the sea, Storalk watched as his captain gave out orders

"We take the supplies, the slaves, and the ship. We are sailing back to Dkar."

As the captain walked away, Storalk heard him say one last thing. "We have new prey to hunt."

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