May the Father of Understanding Guide Us (Open)

Roger held her close to him, as he forget what time was. It felt like an eternity with her, as if all things stopped for the two of them, and the universe only now knew their pleasure and nothing more than that. He moved with her, he wanted the two of them to match each other perfectly, and he wanted her to be happy. Even in this endless bliss he had hatred inside himself, churning and boiling away, and he needed to make sure he could at least use himself for her. He kissed her passionately, his tongue dancing with hers, as his hands caressed her tender flesh, as he pushed into the deepest points of her body as best he could, trying to make her as filled with his efforts as he could.

Elizabeth simply couldn't take anymore, so her gentle moans grew louder in volume as he explored the deepest parts of her. Elizabeth arched her back in pleasure as she savoured the sensation of him, and the things he did to her. She had become like a puppet to him, and he knew how to manipulate her in the room. She trembled and shook gently as she felt a whole new wave of pleasure wash over her.
"Roger" Elizabeth moaned quietly as she fought for every breath.

He looked at her, heard her words and heard the pleasure intertwined with each letter. He sped up, as he felt himself nearing his edge, nearing the point of pleasure that would spell the end of this. He feared it, but also hungered for it, to be with her like this, and be with her again. He kissed at her neck, and slowly but surely he built up inside himself, before finally he let go, as a wave of warmth and power flushed through them both. He held himself still as it happened, kissing every inch of her he could.

Elizabeth "Demon/Satan" Shay

Elizabeth savoured the sensation, and enjoyed the moment as she held him close to her. She chuckled quietly to herself before she placed a gentle kiss on his lips, curled up at his side, and rested her head on his chest.
"Definitely better than I remember" Elizabeth said with quiet laugh. She lay beside him, and simply enjoyed his company as she softly traced patterns on his chest. "Roger, do you ever miss the West-indies?" Elizabeth looked up at him with her sparkling light blue eyes that looked like the very waters of the Carribean.

He took a deep sigh, as he thought. He'd missed the beauty of the islands, the tranquil seas and the fierce turns they could have, he'd missed the sights and the sounds and the smells, but in the end, it hadn't been the Caribbean he missed. It had never been that.

"Ah missed th' hen fa sailed th' West Indies. Ah missed th' demon 'at haunted them. Ah missed th' loove eh'd tint thaur."

He looked down at her and smiled, brushing some hair from her face.

"Ah didne miss th' west indies. But Ah missed ye."

Elizabeth "Demon/Satan" Shay

"Then come with me, Roger. Come back" Elizabeth pleaded as she propped herself up, and looked down at him with a warm smile. While she hardly had any power in the Navy, and little sway over the crown, she did have a great deal of power in certain circles. She had already earned a new reputation as El Fantasma, and the name had become something whispered only in fear. Elizabeth really hoped he would accept her invitation, that he would leave England behind, and return to the West-indies with her.

He sighed, rubbing his head and thinking. He didn't have a ship, he barely had a name in the navy anymore, he had no crew, no respect, he was a no one. Everything he'd spent his life working for was dashed, but in the blink of an eye he had her back, and he couldn't lose her again. He'd ask her to stay with him, here in England, but the eagle needed to fly, and Elizabeth needed to sail. He looked up and thought.

"Ah cannae... th' Queens Night, mah crew, mah name... Ah've got naethin' fur me anymair. Naethin' haur, naethin' thaur... aw Ah hae is ye, an' ah dunnae kinn hoo Ah coods survife as a sailur if aw Ah am is th' loove ay a keptin..."

He looked to her and smiled, and groaned again, sitting up and rubbing his face. He wanted to. He had to. But he didn't know if he could. Despite all that had happened... Because of all that had happened, all he had left was his pride. If he let it be damaged, all he'd have was Elizabeth, and he didn't trust he'd be much for her anymore. He was no more than a failure.

"Ah... Ah jist... Ah cannae."

Elizabeth "Demon/Satan" Shay[/i]

Elizabeth stood up, and got back into her clothes. She hadn't expected him to have fallen so far so quickly. The way he was behaving, it just wasn't him, it was just a shell of him.
"I've done things, Roger, things I'm not proud of. But I did it all to find you. Interrogations, murder, torture... I'm okay with all of that, but using my body to get information regarding your whereabouts!?" Elizabeth opened a cabinet, and grabbed a bottle of Portuguese wine; the same bottle he had shared with her back on the HMS Queen's Night.
"This isn't you. This isn't Roger Stodd! You lose everything, and you- you just give up?! I've lost everything twice! I even bloody died! And look at me now!" Elizabeth opened a chest, and handed its contents to him. An admiral's hat, a black coat, a fresh set of clothes, and the sword of Eden that he had given up to return Thatch's skull to her, it had been modified slightly so it could be used by him even without two of his fingers.
"And your ship? She's waiting for you at Nassau! She's not the Queen's Night, but she's just as good. Sail the seas how you see fit." Elizabeth put on an old tricorn hat with some ostrich feathers, Blackbeard's old hat, and made for the door.
"We set sail in exactly half an hour. Meet me outside when you've made your decision. But know this: if you don't get your act together, the Demon, Satan will return to the West-indies." After that, Elizabeth left the room.

Roger sat, sighing, his hand running through his hair. He looked at it all; the hat, the clothes, the sword. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know what to think at this point; he'd disappointed Elizabeth, he'd failed her and himself. If all she said was true, he had some semblance of honour left, some way to get back all he had lost, but even then... He got up, and slowly began to get dressed.

He looked around the room. Leaving all of this behind, it would destroy him. Leaving behind the memories, the sensations, leaving behind Elizabeth, leaving behind his only chance back to the Caribbean, to more than half of his life. He sighed, and walked over to the sword, holding it in his hand. He felt it, but barely. He nodded and closed his eyes; the world was telling him to move on.

Slowly, silently, Roger walked onto the deck. A few of the crewmen looked to him, and then returned to their work, showing some basic emotions, the kind he'd expected. He looked around him, and then saw the person he was after.

"Captain Elizabeth. Ahm haur tae teel yoo tha', if yoo'll hae me, ah'd loch tae join ye. Ah'd loch tae return tae th' West Indies."

He smiled at her through the shadow of the hat she'd given him, his dark cloak hanging over his figure, and the shining golden hilt of the Sword of Eden resting calmly atop his sheath. Roger Stodd was back.

Elizabeth "Demon/Satan" Shay

"I would have dragged you off to the West-indies in any event" Elizabeth said with a laugh.
"Alright, maggots! Let's get a bloody move on! We haven't got all bloody day!" The crew of the Siren quickly raced off to their posts, and shanties were sung all across the ship to aid with the work.
"Captain, that gent you brought on board... is he?"
"Aye, Stevens, it's him. The Archangel." Stevens let out a hearty laugh, and went off to inspect the crew. Elizabeth stood at the helm, and smiled. She was happy to finally be sailing away from England.

"Only found one Assassin, captain."
"Good, bring them to me" Elizabeth growled.
Elizabeth had Stevens take over from her, and she approached the Assassin.
"I'm in a good mood, so I'll make your death a quick one" Elizabeth growled as she grabbed the Assassin by the neck, and hoisted him into the air. She let out a sinister laugh before she went off, and hung the Assassin from the bowsprit.

"Alright, Roger. I may not be a pirate anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't run my ship like a pirate ship. I'll let you take a look at the articles later." Elizabeth looked to Stodd, and smiled. "It's good to have you back, Roger." Elizabeth smiled as she turned to her crew. "Alright, girls. You may lose the disguises." More than half of the crew revealed themselves to be women.

Roger raised his brow, looking over the deck and its now near entirely female crew. He didn't say much. He was surprised, for sure, but privateers and pirates didn't have the same codes as the Navy did; he'd expected something like this from Elizabeth. He'd have been disappointed if she didn't do something like this, really.

"It's guid tae be back, Elizabeth. it's bin... it's bin a while..."

His accent wasn't as strong now; he was clearly reigning it in, blending his pure voice with that of his royal one.

Elizabeth "Demon/Satan" Shay

"It's good to have you back, Roger. God knows that the West-indies have been quiet without you. Santiago more so." Elizabeth looked out over the water, and laughed quietly to herself. "We'll be stopping at Ponta Delgada at Azores for a day, then it's straight to Nassau." Stevens had been keeping an eye out for any ships fit for the taking.

"Captain! Spanish brig to larboard!" Elizabeth's eyes sparkled wildly at the mere mention of an enemy ship. The last time she sailed with Stodd, she hadn't been able to do much, and she had almost gone insane with boredom.
"Bring us down to half sail, and prepare for a fight!" The crew moved like a well oiled machine, and raced off to their posts. "MORTARS!" Now aware that they were under attack, the Spanish brig opened fire on the galleon. Elizabeth smiled, and laughed hysterically as the ships exchanged fire. This was what she lived for.

Eventually the time came for them to board the Spanish brig, and Elizabeth led the attack. She hacked away at the Spanish, and fought savagely with all the fury of a demon.
"And here I was, hoping for a decent battle!" One of the Spanish soldiers managed to cut her side, and another managed to cut her thigh. "Big mistake" Elizabeth growled as she wedged an axe into each of their skulls. She didn't bother to look for Stodd, but she had bigger things on her plate.

"Stevens, take over for me. I need to see these wounds" Elizabeth growled as she returned to the galleon after the fight, and made her way to her cabin. She gathered everything she needed from one of the chests, cleaned out the wound with some rum, and treated her wounds.

Roger was just watching as the privateers, led by a once-renowned pirate lord, clashed with the nearby Spanish ship. The cannons launched Hellfire upon them, spraying from the sides and the deck of the ship, and by the time the privateers had boarded, the Spanish were still scrambling to figure out what was going on. He smiled, looking to his side as a soldier was hit in the chest, falling back dead. He frowned, as he fought his inner demons, before giving in. He grabbed the mans rifle, and hoisted it up to look over to the Spanish ship.

He didn't get many shots in, but every one hit, even though he was using his right hand. He smirked and felt whole again - it had been so long since he operated a fine British rifle, but now that he was at it again it reminded him why he'd requested to avoid promotion to the Admiralty more than once. He paused, when one of the men he'd shot, by the looks of things a young man of the southern provinces of Spain, turned to face his killer. He gasped and fell, hidden beneath the tall railing of the brig. Roger took a deep breath, and smiled.

"I bet you really missed a good battle like this, Roger." Elizabeth wiped the blood from her face as she stood beside Stodd. The Spanish soldiers had been tied up along the deck of the Spanish brig, and Elizabeth's men were carrying the cargo from the Spanish brig to the Siren. Elizabeth made her way to the Spanish soldiers, and had a brief conversation with them before she killed the men that refused to join her crew.

"Alright, maggots, let's get a move on" Elizabeth barked as she made her way back to her cabin. "Stevens! You're in charge!"

Elizabeth sat quietly in her cabin as she cauterized her wounds.
"There's two more scars to add to the collection."

"Not like ye haven't got quite th' collection awreddy."

Roger shut the door to the captains cabin, smiling as he walked over to her and gave her a gentle kiss on the head, before finding a spot to sit. He stretched and smiled, feeling reinvigorated. He almost hoped that ship had been a scout for a Spanish treasure fleet, lord knows it'd be a fun change of pace; the Templars that were in his way in the Mediterranean had been hunters, rather than soldiers.

"Aye, I've missed battles like 'at. It's bin a while, an' even longer since I used a rifle. Mind you..."

He looked at his left hand, sighing as it reminded him he'd need to get used to using his right from now on. He shook his head and smiled, looking back to Elizabeth. He seemed much happier than he had been.

"I'm impressed, Liz."

"Thank you, Roger. It's been a while since I was able to enjoy a good battle. When I couldn't find you, I just killed people , and stole ships because I had to. Now I'm enjoying it again." Elizabeth applied a strange ointment to her wounds before she applied some bandages. She opened a cabinet, and made herself a Rumbullion, and one for Roger. It was warm, so Elizabeth didn't bother to put her shirt and coat back on, so all she had on was the black strip of cloth that was wound tightly around her breasts, and the bandages she had just applied. "I was out cold for a few days after I lost my mind one day. Dawson luckily knew what to do, so he managed to help me. Would've died if it weren't for him."

Roger drank slowly. He'd never been big on rum, and the past few weeks of pure spirits hadn't made him like the drink anymore. He just listened to her talk, watched her, whatever made him happy at this point. He thought for a while before scratching his head, trying to remember who Dawson was.

"Soonds like a good man. I'll need tae thenk 'im. Efter all, I woold'n be here if you waur gone."

Roger got up and walked over to her, giving her a soft kiss on the lips, holding her head and smiling into her eyes. He looked over her body, noticing still more scars. She really had done a lot since they'd been separated, and all he could think was that he should have been there with her. Not that he'd be able to do anything when she went on one of her rampages...

Elizabeth "Demon/Satan" Shay

"He was a street child like me, and a pirate. He can be a pain in the arse, but his heart is in the right place." Elizabeth noticed that Stodd didn't seem to enjoy his drink, so she pulled a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. "We should be arriving at Ponta Delgada within a week." Elizabeth would never admit that she had overdosed on Horsemen, and that was how she wanted it to stay. "I've stopped with the Horsemen and the other drugs at least. But I still have a bit of hemp every now and then when I'm having a rough day." She smiled and gently rested her head on Roger's shoulder. She had had a rough time since she lost him, and even though she knew that they would part ways again, she was happy for now.

Roger rubbed her head softly and slowly, running his hands through her hair, feeling it slip between each finger and fall back to her head. It was soft, and it was a fond reminder of the short time they'd spent together at peace, before all of this. He stopped when he realised only his three remaining fingers could feel her hair anymore. Leaning down and resting his head on hers, Roger smiled.

"Ever dabbled in tobacco? Opium? Yoo'd like their calmin' effects."

He had rarely touched herbal drugs, he was a man of the bottle after all, but he knew people who had tried the far flung goods of the globe, from the isles of Indochina to the valleys of New Spain, and all were a wide range of things. He'd never heard of the ones that Elizabeth had been involved in but he was certain that, if she wished to find something calming, she'd find nothing better than an opium pipe. She could even outfit her whole ship with them, like the sailors in India and China did.

"I used to enjoy tobacco, back in the good old days, with Ben and Jack. As for opium? I tried it once, refuse to use it again." Elizabeth suffered from insomnia, and normally went for days without sleep. She had tried opium, and while it had helped her to get some decent sleep, she didn't quite enjoy it. Elizabeth went quiet as she remembered the days with her friends, and sighed. Those were the best days of her life, and she would give anything to go back to those days. "After everything that we've been through... after everything we've put each other through... you're one of the few good things in my life, Roger." Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her in response, holding her tight, stroking her hair as she pushed up against him. He thought of what it was like in London, all the prostitutes he'd hired just to hold, just to call 'Elizabeth', every moment he'd spent pining over his single mistake that had doomed him to what he'd been when she found him, and what he was now... no longer a shell, but not the Roger she wanted him to be... not the Roger he could ever be again...

"An' yoo mine. Ah never stopped, ye know. Ah never stopped thinkin' of yoo. Hopin' tae see yer sails over th' shores. Even efter... even when Ah was in London, ll Ah cood dream of was watchin' yoo sail in."

He looked up, around the room and smiled, remembering it fondly. He'd not felt this comfortable in too long. He didn't feel as if anything was different, as if the last three months hadn't happened. The battles at Gibraltar, the run-in with the Templars, the scramble to Italy and the escape to London... If he never saw her again, he'd rather have drowned in those waters of Ionia.

"Yoor the greatest thing Ah have left."

"I never stopped looking for you, Roger. Everything that I did, and everything that I put up with, however terrible it may have been... it was all worth it." Elizabeth placed a gentle kiss on his lips before she walked over to her desk,  pulled a large book from a draw, and handed it to Stodd. She had written down everything that she had done, the people that she had tortured, the methods she had used, and who she had to lie with to get information. "I- I'm sorry for the things I did, Roger, and I am by no means proud of anything I did in the past three months." Elizabeth looked up at him, and hung her head when she saw the thin scar on his neck. Should pulled two smaller books from another draw. "Who did that to you, Roger? Please, tell me who tried to kill you, and who took your fingers" Elizabeth asked as she opened one of the books. Various names had been written down, and a few of them had been crossed out... the book was filled with the names of people she had killed, or wanted to kill. She had some ideas of what she would do to the people that had visited such atrocities upon him, she wanted to make them suffer for destroying him.

Roger shuddered for a moment, as she spoke. He'd read slowly, and he'd taken it in, and the fact was he didn't care. He'd have done the same, if he had been able to. He'd have taken down any ship the Royal Navy flung at him to get back to her. He almost wished he had, now that the two of them were reunited again. He closed it, and gave it a pat, as he tried to focus. His fingers... his eye... The many scars she'd seen on him... He was insulted by how few of them came from proper fighting... He tried to speak, tried to unsee what he was reseeing. He couldn't.

---

"Onu buraya getirin! Onu göreyim!"

The disheveled Admiral was pushed to his knees, his arms tied behind his back, and his hair falling loose over his sweat, water, and blood soaked face. He looked up, and snarled as he saw the man before him, dressed in the typical garb of his type; a Barbary pirate. His long corsair was tucked into his belt, still dripping with blood, and his beard was soaked with all manner of things. Judging by the smell, alcohol was the most prominent. The Turk laughed, stroking his beard slowly and thinking. Before long, he was speaking, in an accent as thick any other of his ilk.

"So, you are the one fabled. The Archangel, the Admiral. This is-"

Roger spat on the pirates boot, struggling to his feet. His coat was in tatters, his hat was long gone, and his sword was somewhere else; he hoped at the bottom of the sea, rather than somewhere one of these men could get a hold of it.

"Shut it you bloody servant. I know this wasn't just you and your fucking Ottoman ships. You're not the Templar here."

The captain rubbed his head, stroking his beard. He nodded and stepped aside, and to the forefront of the group came a group of men, about ten, dressed in the typical dress of Templars; official, formal, yet dark and domineering. The blacks and red stood out amongst the mixture of styles. At the head of the group, three stood out; one, a Turk as well, was wearing a typical outfit of the Ottoman aristocracy, and he looked more than capable, broad and powerful, and brandishing... well, quite a few weapons. Roger didn't recognise him, not like the other two. In the center of the trio was a man simply known as Acciai, an Italian from the Papal States, a pope-turned-templar, and a merchant-turned-pirate. Everything about him screamed criminal and evil, and it's all he was. Even here, Roger wasn't sure he'd even seen a more foul looking man, his sharp nose and curled smile showing off what was surely chipped teeth - they couldn't naturally be that sharp. A double breasted black coat, gold buttons, an axe, and four guns. He wasn't a strong man, so he had to be a smart man, fighting from a distance. He was a legend in the Mediterranean, for his manners of... insanity, really.

And the third member of the group, dressed in the outfit of a British Captain, clinging to her body; of course, she wasn't one. She just liked the look. Eveleen Cooper, a pirate since birth. And apparently, now a Templar. She and Roger had their history, and he regretted not putting her down long ago now.

"So, this i' the famos Roger Stodd, mm? The man who brought down on' thousand ships with his bare hands, as the legends go? I do not see him living up to his potential, do you?"

He looked back to Cooper who laughed and walked over to the Admiral, patting his cheek gently. She looked into his eyes and gave him a sudden and harsh slap, before forcing him back to his knees. Judging by the state of them, they'd not taken part in the fight. All filled with energy, he was easy to overpower.

"This human refuse is hardly a legend. He's nothing more than a coward and a liar. I know the stories of his little antics with the pirate he supposedly had killed. He's trash."

The group of Templars laughed, before Acciai grabbed him and hoisted him forward, and pulled out a knife from the pocket of the Turk by his side. He thought for a moment, sneering, as he cut off the binds that held Roger, and pulled his left hand up to a barrel.

"You are a lucky man, Roger Stodd. We've been given very important orders to not 'ave you killed, so instead we will simply disable you."

He didn't even wait. With one slash, he chopped off the index finger of Roger's left hand, sending it to the wet wood of the deck. The Templars laughed, before Roger was dropped back down to the floor. They wanted to embarrass and shame him, not kill him. To make sure no other Templars considered doing what he had done, crossing them the way he did. He tried to run, to get away from this order, after all he'd done and with a stolen Sword of Eden. He wasn't getting off easy.

"Take off two! I don't want to hear this fucker has shot another of my friends in the back of the head! He killed five of my informants at Gibraltar, and he'd had his hand in the Caribbean for too fucking long!!"

The Italian was happy to oblige, as he chopped of the middle finger of the Admiral, right on the floor. He laughed wildly, licking the blood off of his knife, snarling and growling, knowing he couldn't kill the man. So he turned, and rushed over to the tied up captives of the HMS Queen's Night, slashing at one of their faces over and over again. Eventually a few of the Templars rushed to stop him; Roger couldn't even recognise who it must've been, as their lifeless corpse fell to the deck. The Turks onboard were quick to move to the other captives, knowing they were too valuable for this. The Italian didn't like it, and was quick to move, overpowering his allies and stabbing one of the Turks in the throat.

Roger lay on the floor, horrified as the whole thing turned into a bloodbath. The Templars and pirates fought for about two minutes, before a cannon fired, silencing the whole band into checking the waters. The Barbary captain groaned, standing at one of the mortars at the back of the ships deck.

"Stop! My goodness! This is not why we are here! Do not protect British prisoners, let the Templars do as they please!"

Slowly, the Barbary crew backed off. The Templars, calming down, let their Italian counterpart onto them one by one, as Roger simply watched in horror.

"I want to be a Templar, so I will not let you all kill them here. This is a great opportunity. Let's not waste it."

Half an hour passed before Acciai was done. He was covered in blood, and in the time it had taken him, it had started to rain. He held an axe at his feet, bloody and dripping, as he turned to face Roger. Eveleen quickly got in his way.

"This is the end of your legacy. This ship, this crew, everything you've worked so hard for, for so long. I remember when we first me, back when you were the Commodore, famous not for your deeds, but for your myths. I wish I could make you a myth. Instead, I'll make sure you never do what you've done to my kin again."

Slowly, she pulled out her own weapon, a long bladed claw, attached to each finger like a thimble, and connected by wire. She moved forward, and slashed at one of his eyes. It was as simple as that. Roger snarled in agony, as the Templars reformed, their Italian calming down. It looked like they were waiting. Roger stayed on the ground, before clambering to his feet. He staggered, panting heavily. He looked up and gargled, trying to speak. He was grabbed, his coat torn from his body and tossed into the water, leaving him in a torn white top, showing that he was bleeding all over. He was going to die, he knew it.

"You hung my brother from the side of your ship and let the waves destroy his body. You're lucky I'm kinder than you."

Eveleen grabbed him and shoved the Admiral back over and over, before he hit the railings of his own ship. He could see now, as the Turks walked around, and lay torches all over the place. They were burning it... why? Why burn it?

"You'll never make it back to England. This will be how Roger Stodd dies."

With that, she pushed him over the edge and into the water, and blackness consumed him.

---

"Ah... Ah can't tell you... who did thes..."

He looked at his hands and groaned, putting his head in them for a moment. He wasn't sad, he wasn't even scared. He was just done. He didn't want to see any more violence, not to those of his past, his dark past. The Spanish, the French, that was a time he could enjoy. But this wasn't. Pirates... Templars... He was done.

"Ah can't."

"Fine then, but you know I'll find out eventually." Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair before she wiped her face. It had been a long voyage. She grabbed the Bloodseeker, and returned it to the Demon's Claw before she shrugged on her coat. "Well, you know where I'll be" Elizabeth said as she grabbed a bottle of rum, and left the room.

"Everything alright, captain?"
"Aye, Stevens, everything's just fine" Elizabeth said calmly. Stevens sighed, and approached his captain.
"You're doing that thing again where you pull down your sleeves until they cover your hands, and you just had the hundred yard stare. Mind telling me what's going on?"
"Drop it, Stevens" Elizabeth roared before she raced up to the crow's nest.

Damian Butcher was a lucky man. Emphasis on the word, was. It had been, what, a few months since the other two killed Whitehorn? Maybe more? Oh well, at least it had given him one thing - a chance to escape. He had returned, and bore the others the news. He knew the others were heartbroken - especially Tiago - yet they had to previal, each and everyone of them. Skipping some few months, Damian was sailing across the 8cean, yet he had no idea where he was, nearly the same as three years ago... God, three years... he thought to himself, ..it had been three years since I met 'Liz, and now, hell... I'm now over thirty years in age.. However, in the distance, he had heard cannon fire. Soonly, they ended. Now, who else could end a ship with such speed? Christ, if he was right... He turned towards the new Helmsman - the last one, another Assassin, seemingly vanished off of the face of earth - and said, "Direct us towards the noise.", and, hesitantly, the man turned the wheel towards the noise. Damian, however, turned his face towards the crew, and, hands on the railing between him and the crew, said, "Full sail, and load the cannons! If I am correct about who this might be... then God save us all.".Approaching him from behind, was another man of near equal height. Just taller. This man bore the same surname, aswell. "Brother... are you sure of this? The last we came across her, she had remorse for you and I. It has been months, with her in their grasps. She may not even feel Mercy, nor even have remorse when she kills us.", he said, to which Damian turned around, and, slapping his brother lightly in the face, said, "Shut. Your. Mouth. If you dare utter about her killing us, two of the best fighters, under possibly Ah Tabai and The Ghost... then you can go first.", as he turned around, relaxing his arms on the rails again, his hair lightly flowing in the wind - he jad, aswell, grown out a beard, not going past his chin.