Aileron

The Bounty’s designs were delivered to the Shipbuilder’s early in the morning. Cetan accepted them gratefully and began leafing through them. She frowned as she read through them, an action that made Peregrine’s stomach sink.. “You used Everfree wood on it?” Cetan asked, looking up from her reading. Peregrine nodded and Cetan let out a slight sigh. “That’s going to be tough. That stuff’s a pain to carve.”

Peregrine winced. “I was afraid of that. How long do you think it will take?”

Cetan scribbled some numbers down in her notebook, checked the folder on her desk, tore a page out of her notebook, and then handed it to Peregrine. “Yeah… you wouldn’t happen to have more of that wood on hand, would you?” He shook his head. “That’s unfortunate. We might have to charge you extra.”

Peregrine swore under his breath. “How much?” Cetan gave him the numbers. He swore again. “Alright. As long as my ship gets fixed. And how long do you think that’ll take?”

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Yes. I’d like to get back to sailing. I’m not a city griffon.” A shiver ran down his spine.

Cetan pursed her beak and nodded. “Alright. We’ll get to work on your ship. I’ll send you work updates and whatnot.” Peregrine thanked her and walked out of the building. Cetan sighed and began checking her schedule. “I guess if I’m working with him,” she muttered, “I might as well get used to his company.” She frowned as she looked across to both her own notes and those that Peregrine had delivered.

She leaned towards the nearest window, where she could make out her sister watching the ship. She leaned her head back, groaning softly. “Kestrel,” she muttered under her breath. “Of all the ships you could have an obsession with, of course it’s this one.”

Kestrel greeted Simurgh at the docks once more, waiting as The Bounty was set upon by the various members of the Shipbuilders, her sister being one of them. She had spent the majority of the day there, camping out with a pair of meals packed by Icarus, which she had long since devoured, making the arrival of Simurgh a welcome surprise. The black griffon carried a small book under one one wing, which she could barely make out in the fading light. He approached with a spring in his step, moving like a panther in the shadows.

His grin looked slightly macabre in the twilight, gaunt and eerie. But his eyes twinkled, which eased some of Kestrel’s worries. “So, what’ve you done since yesterday?” Simurgh asked, giving her a slight bow, and winking as he straightened himself. “I assume a wonderful individual such as yourself got something important done since yesterday.”

Kestrel gave him an odd look. “You don’t have to patronize me,” she murmured, her tone somewhere between embarrassed and scolding. “I’m not a sailor. Or anybody, really.”

Simurgh glanced at the half-a-dozen ships currently docked in the harbor, a slight frown spreading on his face. “You want to join one?”

Kestrel gave an embarrassed shrug, a tint of red appearing under her feathers. Before Simurgh could say anything else, she hurried to speak. “Before I take you to my uncle, anything else you need to care of? Anyone you’re looking for?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone by the name of Icarus, would you?” Kestrel blinked in surprise. Simurgh shook his head after she had opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Nevermind, it’s a silly idea. He probably jumped ship ages ago. He was a hard fellow to pin down.” He stretched slightly, an action that reminded Kestrel of a feral cat, and sighed. “Alright, please show me to your uncle’s, if that’s alright with you.”

He turned to go, but Kestrel grabbed his wing before he could. “Actually, he’s my uncle. It’s his inn we’re going to.”

A baffled grin spread across Simurgh’s face. “They say that, if you speak of the Stormlord,” he murmured, looking up at the sky, “he’ll show up. Guess Icarus works as a close second.” He ruffled the jet black feathers on his head, his grin growing in size. “Then by all means, take me to see him.”

He bowed once more, and followed Kestrel to the inn. Icarus’ inn was relatively close to the docks, so they didn’t have far to walk. As they walked, Simurgh grinned and breathed in the air. Kestrel gave him an odd look. “What? Is the Griffonstone air that pure?”

He shook his head. “Nah. It’s just nice to be back.” Kestel frowned, but shook away the thoughts. When she arrived at the bar, she swung the door open to let Simurgh in. At this point, it was getting far too dark and she expected Icarus to give her a thorough talking to.

However, as Simurgh stepped inside and she followed, she didn’t hear her uncle's frustration at her tardiness. She heard a crash as something fell and broke on the floor. Icarus sat at the bar, his jaw practically touching the floor, his eyes wide as plates, as he stared at Simurgh. At first, the three other griffons still in the building frowned, but then they followed his gaze, frowning and murmuring as they took in the odd griffon standing in front of them. Well, all of them except Rook. He was just switching his gaze between Simurgh and Icarus and cackling.

Simurgh looked around, his grin only growing larger, and he made a flourishing bow the griffons in the establishment. “A wonderful place you’ve got here, Icarus,” he said, not lifting his head from the ground. “Truly, if I had known that this was the place you’ve had for the past couple years, I would ha-”

Icarus leapt over the table, like a tiger who’d spotted its prey. He landed directly in front of Simurgh, and slugged him across the face, faster than a snake. Simurgh almost crashed into a wall, but used his wings and back legs to hold himself up. He winced for a moment, but his wild grin soon reasserted itself. “You know,” he laughed, his voice overflowing with mirth, “if you had wanted to keep a low profile, you probably shouldn’t have started a bar.”

Icarus’ eye twitched, probably because he was ready to have a seizure. Before any of his three patrons could say anything, he whipped around to them. “Do me a favor,” he muttered, “and don’t start spreading gossip. Please.” This time he delivered a clenched talon into Simurgh’s chest.

Simurgh let out a wheezy laugh as he collapsed. “You still punch hard.”

Rook snickered slightly, making his way to where Simurgh lay spread-eagled. He took a few seconds to take in the somewhat ragged looking griffon, but after a moment he made his proclamation. “Simurgh, I presume?”

Simurgh began pushing himself off the ground. “Are tales of my exploits greatly exaggerated?”

Rook helped Simurgh to his feet before speaking. When he finally did speak, he couldn’t keep a cheeky tone out of his voice. “Depends.” He turned to the two remaining griffons. “Boys, lay off on mentioning this. At least until Icarus mentions it. Come on, The Raven’s a waitin’.”

His two crew members frowned, but hopped off their stools and followed their captain as they made their way out of the inn. As they left, Rook gave a slight nod to Icarus, who returned it gratefully.

Simurgh glanced at the door as it swung shut, brushing dust off himself. “You know, you could punch a bit less hard.”

“Bar fights,” Icarus muttered. “You fight hard or you quit the business.”

Simurgh’s beak opened slightly as he took that in. He said nothing for a moment, watching Icarus. But after a short while of Icarus watching him coldly, he spoke first, pointing to the door with a talon. “Can you trust him?”

“Rook’s good to his word,” Icarus muttered. “At least for now, none of his crew will mention it. Himself included.”

Simurgh glanced at the door, a minute frown on his beak. “You’ve got odd patrons.”

“A lot has changed,” Icarus said coldly, his eyes hard. “Now, can you tell me why you ran into my niece, presumably at the docks, after nineteen years of never hearing from you?”

Kestrel frowned. “Am I missing something?”

Icarus let out a long sigh, making his way to his bar. He pulled a trio of wooden mugs off one of the shelves, setting them on the counter with a hollow thud. He filled them, passing a drink to each of them. Kestrel let out a slight sigh as she realized that hers was not, in fact, alcoholic, drawing a look from her uncle. As Kestrel sipped her drink, she motioned for her uncle to continue.

After Icarus had taken a moment to collect his thoughts, he finally spoke. “We… were shipmates at one point. Don’t you remember me telling you about him?” Kestrel paused and thought back to the time her uncle had told her about his sailing exploits.

“I remember you mention some adventures with a crew, but that’s about it. Oh, and you mentioned mom. And dad. And a lot of nights with too much alcohol.”

Icarus groaned. “That’s the part you remember?” She nodded. “Alright. Long story short, as I said, we sailed together. Simurgh was-”

“Is,” Simurgh corrected.

“No,” Icarus snapped. “Very much was our captain. We separated about a year before Cetan was born.”

Simurgh sat his mug down rather forcefully, sending flecks of foam into the air. “About that. Is it true what I’ve heard?”

“You’ve probably heard a lot of things since you got back.”

Simurgh grinned. “You know what I mean.”

Icarus glanced slightly at Kestrel. To her surprise, her uncle seemed like he was somewhat worried. “Yes, Gabriel had kids. Is that what you mean?”

Simurgh’s eyebrows shot up, making it look like he had a pair of caterpillars inching off his head. “Damn. So, that makes you-”

“Not in line for clan leadership, no,” Icarus snapped, cutting Simurgh off before he could continue. “You’ve missed a lot since you’ve left. And yes, before you ask, Gabriel is also in charge now by fair dealings. As surprising as that may sound.”

“Yeah, I wondered about that,” Simurgh said, a puzzled tone in his voice, “how on earth did he actually end up in charge?”

“The Oracles,” Icarus explained, like a teacher lecturing a small child. “They’ve been tearing up any ships that go anywhere near the East. Gabriel proved to be rather good at organizing fights against them. Up until Glinda died, he was at the forefront of fighting them. When she died, he was the next logical choice of taking care of them. Unfortunately, they’re a wily bunch.”

Simurgh glanced at his mug. Icarus watched him quietly, as if expecting his friend to say something. But it was Kestrel who broke the silence. “So, what brought you here?”

Simurgh glanced at her, a grin on his face. “Oh, wanted to see some old friends.”

Icarus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that and the fact that pirates abound. Being closer to a city probably will do wonders for my survivability.”

Peregrine grimaced as he sat in front of Gabriel, one of the High Lords of Griffonstone. He wasn’t happy. “Your masts got broken?” He asked, putting emphasis on the word. “Your sturdy masts, reinforced by the best runecarvers, woodcarvers and shipbuilders Griffonstone's seen in generations? The masts that served me well for sixteen years, yet never broke? And now they've been broken. By what, exactly?” They sat in Gabriel’s office, a fairly spacious building. Dozens of maps hung on the walls, all of them covered in red, green and blue marks, as well as a few of them possessing daggers pinned in them. The wooden walls of the tree of Griffonstone surrounded them, like they were sitting inside a woodpecker's nest.

Gabriel was extremely lengthy for a griffon, his strong wings folded against his incredibly snake-like form. His white feathers had the odd stain on them, remnants from his work out in the field, which he bore like a badge of honor. A small, gleaming necklace hung around his neck, swinging back and forth as he paced.

Aquila stood next to Peregrine, her cold eyes narrowed. She held her sword in one talon, fingering it pensively. Unlike Peregrine, she was significantly more tolerant of Gabriel. The two of them had served on the same ship when he had fought against the Oracle Union, and had then stayed on when Peregrine took over The Bounty, getting the whole crew with it.

“Storm,” Peregrine said quietly. “We also ran into The Specter.”

Gabriel paused in his pacing to look at them. “You ran into Raven?” He ran his talon through his feathers. “Damnit. I had heard that she was up near Roc’s Point. What was she doing down near the Reaches?”

Aquila winced as she cast a look at Peregrine, who sighed before speaking. “We were at Roc’s Point,” Peregrine admitted. “We had received a tip-off from the Reaches that she was making a stop to trade with some unsavory characters. Turns out she was.”

“So, you both defied orders and picked a bone with one of the Oracles.” Gabriel’s expression was grim, but it only got grimmer as he continued. “But that still doesn’t explain what happened to the mast.”

Peregrine grimaced and slammed a small item down on the desk. It clinked as it struck, making Gabriel frown and lean in close. “Like I said,” Peregrine said. “We got caught in a storm. But, believe it or not, we were pursued by Raven. She wanted that necklace.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he picked up the necklace and fingered it. “And this is?”

“It was around her neck,” Aquila murmured, speaking for the first time since they had arrived. “This is what I was referring to when I said we needed to wait for Peregrine. It's the one that she's always showing up in the posters with.” She nodded slightly towards it as Gabriel turned it over in the dim light. It was small and blue in color, likely made from some kind of sapphire. It shone brightly, despite the darkness, catching the light and reflecting it into Gabriel's eyes. “I have no idea as to what it is or what it does, but she was furious when we took it. She pursued us, even into a storm. That’s how we lost her.”

“And that’s what broke your mast?” The pair of them nodded fervently, neither of them speaking. Gabriel sighed and set it down back on the desk. “What do you think this is, exactly?”

“Probably a fortune, knowing Raven,” Aquila muttered. She glanced at her commander, her gaze drifting to his necklace. “Almost reminds me of yours, actually.”

Gabriel frowned and fingered the small, cloud shaped necklace that he wore. “There’s likely little correlation involved,” he said, taking Raven’s necklace and shoving it into one of his drawers, “but I’ll ask Grover when he’s back from Equestria.”

“About that,” Peregrine asked as he stood up and stretched, an action that drew an irate look from Aquila, “has he sent word of how it goes down in Equestria?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I thought that you knew.”

“Knew what? Why?”

“You’re friends with Rook, aren’t you?” Peregrine made an iffy gesture, drawing a sigh from Gabriel. “Of course. That twat goes on and on about the end of the world but refuse to tell you about the important stuff. Grover’s coming back tomorrow.”

Aquila and Peregrine blanched. “Surprising how that comment affects people,” commented a cheerful voice. A griffon had just come down the stairs; a trio of earrings pierced one of her ears, or an area close to that spot, each of them made from a different metal. Aside from that, very little adorned her, although she did wear a metallic circlet on her head, which glittered in the faint light. Her white feathers were groomed to perfection, like some vain queen. “I find it really interesting that you two are terrified by the idea of Grover returning.”

Gabriel gave the griffon a cold look. “Shikra, out of my study.”

“It’s a tree. It’s not exactly your personal private territory.”

“I thought Shikra was down by Maelstrom,” Peregrine muttered sidelong to Aquila.

“Check your sources,” Shikra said with a grin. “Turns out that when you’re dressed like a queen, generals aren’t hospitable.” She turned back to Gabriel. “Now, Gabe-”

“Gabriel.”

“Fine. Gabriel, I assume you’re explaining the whole deal with Grover coming back, eh?” Gabriel shot her a dark look, but nodded. Shikra’s grin grew. “So, I assume you’ve heard about the whole deal with the Equestrians, right?”

Gabriel mimed strangling Shikra, but he said nothing. Aquila swallowed nervously. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Gabriel snapped, making his way to where Shikra stood and ushering her up the stairs. “Go fly out a window or something. I’m busy.” Shikra grumbled under her breath as she left, but she did it anyway. Gabriel, once he was certain that his coworker had left, made his way back to his desk, sitting down with a sigh. “Ignore Shikra. I think she’s drunk.”

Peregrine paused to cast a sidelong glance at where the griffon had entered. “You sure? She sounded pretty clear headed, all things considered. In fact, I think she sounded significantly more level-headed than normal.”

“I’ll explain it once Grover gets back,” Gabriel snapped, his tail tail rigid as a pole. “Until then, I’m not talking about anything he wouldn’t appreciate.”

“Understood,” Aquila said, saluting him. Peregrine rolled his eyes. “Anything else we should know?”

There was a thud as a stack of papers landed on the table. Aquila frowned and began looking through them. Gabriel sighed. “The Oracles, suffice to say, have been far more active than usual. Geralt’s on the loose somewhere near Procella, searching for who knows what, and we think we have a lead on what Grimlock’s up to.”

Aquila blinked. “What?”

“We have a theory that he’s dead set on heading for Sulphur Rookery. But it’s just a theory at this point. Like I said, we don’t have any confirmation.” Gabriel sighed and took the papers back, leafing through them till he arrived at a section near the end. He pushed it back towards them, displaying a charcoal sketch of a hooded griffon. “She showed up again.”

Peregrine narrowed his eyes, his body standing entirely still aside from the tiny movement of his breathing. After a moment of taking in the grey hood, which obscured all but a few of the front feathers on the griffon’s face, he looked back towards Gabriel. “Gale?”

“Very likely. But until we figure out anything else, I’m forbidding either of you from going anywhere near where she’s been. If you do, I swear I’ll revoke your privileges as sailors. I’ll stick you down in some backwater city and forbid any captain from taking you. And Aeolus himself won’t be able to change that.”

Aquila opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. After a momentary silence, she managed to clear her throat. “So, you’re saying,” she said, her voice hoarse, “that we can’t do our job?”

“Nothing of the sort. You’ve still got full privileges with the rest of the Oracles. But you’re not sailing within a hundred miles of Gale. Or anything she’s got her hands in. That little warmonger is enough trouble as-is without us handing two of our best sailors to her. Or your crew, for that matter.”

Peregrine took a moment to swallow before speaking. “And if she comes after us?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, but he shook his head. “That won’t happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” Raven said absentmindedly as she ran a talon along her temple. “Unfortunately, it means that I have to deal with a significant loss in profits.” She currently was leaning against the rail of her ship, The Specter, any eerie, skeletal ship. Unlike many of the ships, this one was lacking of wood in several places, held in place instead by various clouds.

Over a hundred oars stuck out from the side of the ship, whether through the clouds or through slits in the wood, but currently they hung listless. Her crew milled around behind her, a mess of griffons of all shapes and sizes.

Raven was a thin, bony griffon, gaunt and haggard no matter how much she ate. A wicked, thin blade hung at her side, partially obscured by the tattered feathers that comprised her front half. Her skeletal appearance was enhanced by the entire lack of feathers on her head, displaying tight skin, and a very recently healed cut along her neck.

The subject of her address stood across from her, on his own ship. He stood there, tapping one of his hooves against the wooden planks of his ship. His grey feathers were immaculate, without any wear or tear on them. “Raven, I assume there’s a reason you called me here?” His voice was exasperated, a tone that was only enhanced by his accent, something that Raven had never been able to place.

Much like on The Specter, his crew worked behind him, although unlike Raven’s, his was comprised of far more than just griffons. Raven could spot a pair of pegasi working behind him, as well as a few more unsavory creatures working behind him. Hybrids, for the most part, something that always made Raven nervous.

Raven’s gaunt face split in a slight smile. “Well, Grimlock, I actually do. Multiple, even.”

Grimlock’s pale blue eyes were distant at first, as if he was staring past her- despite the fact that he was looking directly at her. When his eyes eventually focused, his voice came out clipped. “I hope that your reasons are worth my time. My schedule is tight.”

Raven’s smile morphed to a sneer. “Come now, you know that I wouldn’t call you here unless I had need of your particular brand of services.” She gestured with a wing towards her crew. “I’d rather discuss this in private. Any chance you’d be willing to come to my cabin?” Grimlock shook his head, making Raven sigh. “That’s what I thought.” She leapt from The Specter’s deck, pulling off a tight spin before she landed on Grimlock’s ship.

“Showoff,” Grimlock commented coolly, one of his eyebrows rising up ever-so slightly. He motioned for her to follow, and the two of them making their way into the underbelly of the massive ship. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, providing some illumination into the darker reaches of the ship.

Wooden doors lined the hallways, each one with a rune inscribed on them. Raven recognized all of them, a combination of identifiers and protective words designed to keep out any but Grimlock’s crew. She tapped one of the doors as she passed, causing it to glow a faint blue. Grimlock cast her a dark look, but he said nothing.

Grimlock took the lead, his crew members stepping aside when he approached to let him past. One of his members, a griffon clad in metallic armor, frowned as the pair of them approached. “Captain, what’s she doing on our ship?”

“Guest,” Grimlock said. “Don’t worry.”

The griffon grimaced as he took in Raven, who gave him a gaunt smile. He sighed. “Alright.” He spread a wing for Raven to see, displaying a collection of sharp flecks of metal. “Trust me,” he said as Raven took in his metallic weaponry, “I’ve been in need of some practice.”

Grimlock made a shooing gesture to the griffon, who slunk off, not removing his gaze from Raven. Grimlock pushed open the door that the griffon had been blocking, opening up a large cabin. The two of them entered and seated themselves at the wooden table that sat in the center of the room. Raven whistled appreciatively as she took it in. Books sat on shelves, ranging from topics of magic, deities, cooking and even exotic flora and fauna, a testament to Grimlock’s years spent sailing. A map of the charted territories hung on wall, with vague outlines drawn in with black ink.

They both took their seats. Grimlock watched Raven in silence, his gaze never leaving her, like a statue in a staring match. Raven grimaced, but spoke. “Look, I need your help with something.”

“With what?”

Raven nodded towards the way they had come. “You saw The Specter. I need to get her patched up. I… I might have gotten thrashed when trying to sink a ship.”

Grimlock’s stony features broke into a slight smile. “You know, it’s about time you got your comeuppance.”

Raven waved a dismissive talon. “Yeah, yeah, but you don’t understand. I lost about a dozen crew members, ninety percent of my cargo, and they gave me this cut.” She pointed to the mark on her neck. “I need your help.”

“Says the griffon who believes in sinking anyone who tries to give her ‘struggling’ ship a hand.”

Raven snickered slightly, but with a look from Grimlock she soon quieted. “Look, The Specter is a legend at this point. Which is why I need your help. I ran into Aquila and Peregrine. They proceeded to knock us about a fair bit. They took my necklace. My reputation will never recover if I don’t take care of this.”

Grimlock’s tiny smile faded. “The Bounty? And your necklace?” Raven nodded. Grimlock muttered a curse under his breath. “What, in particular, do you want my help for? I’ve got business to attend to. Roc Point is in need of a visit, and I certainly have no interest in helping you under normal circumstances. These aren’t those.” There was a slight pause before he continued. “I’m tempted to just leave you to flounder and lose your precious popularity contest. Why not go meet up with a different Oracle?” He ran a digit along the cracks in the woodwork, leaving slight nicks as it went. When he removed it, he examined it for a moment and blew the sawdust from it.

Raven’s grimace only deepened. “What? You think the others are going to help me? We’re the ringleaders, but that doesn’t mean that any of them are going to work with me.”

“Passerine is less than a hundred miles from here.”

“He’s a sadist,” Raven said coldly.

Grimlock raised an eyebrow. “And you aren’t?” Raven gave him a bitter look, making Grimlock chuckle, but he continued. “Regardless, there are over two dozen minor captains who would be happy to lend their services to you. At least five or six of them are in the general vicinity.”

“No offense, but they’re bigger assholes than you are. Plus they’re inexperienced in matters of griffon politics. You aren’t.” Raven stared at Grimlock’s unwavering eyes and let out a sigh. There was a clink as a bag of coins landed on his table, several of them spilling out. “They took far more than this when they looted me. I need a few replacement crew members and I swear to you, on everything that we stand for, that I’ll pay you back tenfold. And far more for every death that happens under my watch.”

Grimlock examined the coins, turning one of them over in the dim light. He gripped it in his beak, clamping it down until it finally broke. The coin fell from his grip, a wicked crack down its center. Raven winced at his hit the table and made an ominous thud. “You know,” Grimlock said, “I’m in the Oracles for far more than just gold.”

Raven nodded, a sneer drifting across her face. “Sure, and I’m also chasing after that ship for far more than the riches. But what griffon can’t resist a little gold?”

It was Grimlock’s turn to smile back. “Then make use of those slaves of yours. I’ll lend you some of my crew- if you give me the same number of your rowers. Permanently.”

Raven raised an eyebrow. “What’s it matter to you? You’re a sailing ship, not a rower.”

Grimlock snorted as he stood up, brushing his shoulder with a wing as he did so. “Raven, you and I might not get along. I don’t understand your methods. I don’t understand how that demented mind of yours works. But I’m certain that the concept of freedom has entered your mind from time to time. Give a griffon a taste of freedom, and he’ll only seek it more. Give it to him forever, he’ll come back to you in time. His loyalty will be yours. And that’s worth far more than any amount of gold or jewels.”

Raven’s managed a slight smile, but it was brittle and forced. “You’re such a damn preacher, Grimlock. And not even a good one at that. But fine, I’ll give you some of my rowers. In exchange for an equal number of your crew? That’s a fine deal.”

Grimlock shrugged and made his way to the door of the cabin. “Come, let’s give you your ‘loan’, as disgusting a term as that is.”

Raven gave him a real grin and followed, her talons making eerie clicking noises on the ground. “So, you’ve got an impressive crew. Who’ll I be getting?”

“Not up to me,” Grimlock said coldly. “We’ll see who’s willing. You can pick from them.”

Raven gave an irritated huff, but followed him regardless. The two of them came up onto the deck of the ship, the crew of Grimlock’s ship turning to face them as they arrived. As she took them in, Raven was finally able to realize the extent to which Grimlock went to assemble a diverse crew. Griffons, hippogryphs, unicorns, and even a pegasus or two were identifiable in the crowd. And those were just those standing near the front. Grimlock’s crew was gathered in nothing short of a mob, probably close to a hundred and fifty or sixty, who wore a variety of weapons ranging from biological to mechanical.

Their expressions ranged from cold to straight up hostile, something that Raven was quick to note. Not that it mattered to her. There were rules in place amongst the Oracles. One of them included their being exempt from any justice other than that of a fellow captain. And Grimlock would let her live. At least for now. He needed her, just as she needed him, like a vicious example of mutualism. After a moment of quietly exchanging glances, a griffon with a grim smile on his face stepped forward. He waved a wing towards Raven. “Why’s she still here, Grimlock? I thought you said, and I quote, that ‘she is an example of the worst of the worst.’ Why’d you not knock her over the edge?”

There was a murmur of agreement from the crew; several of his crew members threw jeers toward Raven. Grimlock waited for his crew to subside, and then pointed a wing towards Raven. “Raven has requested our services. She needs half-a-dozen volunteers.” A snicker came from somewhere in his assembled crew, but Grimlock continued. “In exchange, she’s willing to free an equal number of her rowers to join us.”

That got a response from the crew, something that quite impressed Raven. Normally, she steered as far as possible from Grimlock due to his… self-righteous nature, but he did know a thing or two about keeping his crew in check. If she had asked her crew to if anyone wanted to help out a fellow Oracle, they would have asked what was in it for them. A king’s ransom was the general price she asked from the other captains. Grimlock was getting his crew to help a griffon they hated, all for half-a-dozen measly slaves. All things considered, that wasn’t a price that a pirate should be accepting. But if Grimlock wanted to lend her a few of his crew members for practically nothing, what was it to her?

The griffon who had been clad in metal earlier stepped forward. Raven noted that, when not covered in armor, his feathers were a brilliant shade of gold, while his back fur matched in tint. “I’ll go.”

Grimlock shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t spare your services, Ajax. You’re needed here.” The armor-clad griffon grimaced, but he did step back into the throng that was Grimlock’s crew. A few others stepped forward, several griffons, a unicorn-like creature that Raven had never bothered to learn the name of, a pegasus, and even a hippogryph. Grimlock nodded towards them. “Great. You’ll be serving with Raven- up until she either tries to get your killed or you’ve helped her retrieve her treasure.”

He turned to Raven. “They’ll be working with you. Try actually get to know them.”

“Are they any good?” Raven asked dubiously.

“They’re some of my best. You’ll make use of them somehow, of that I’m certain. Make certain that you keep them alive. Or I’ll happily shove your precious treasure down your throat. And throw it to your crew.”

Raven swallowed nervously, but nodded. “I guess it’s my turn to fulfil my word?” Grimlock nodded. Raven turned to her six volunteers, gesturing for them to follow her. “Come on, I’ll show you the ropes. And,” she said, turning back to Grimlock, “let’s get you your rowers.”

Grimlock gave her a curt nod and followed her onto The Specter. In many regards, the ship was a threat to anyone who couldn’t fly. Clouds were all that held up several portions of it- normally, clouds would be used in case of an emergency repair, but Raven had decided to make them a more permanent feature. The less aerial oriented members of Grimlock’s crew had to do their best to avoid stepping there for fear of falling to their deaths.

Thousands of runes decorated the ship, the meaning of many of them obscured to all but a handful of living griffons; Raven knew the meaning of every single one of them. They spiraled around the mast and across the floor like thousands of snakes, fluid and sinuous. Grimlock watched them coldly, his slit-like eyes making him look like a snake poised to strike.

Raven led Grimlock towards the bottom of her ship this time, her six borrowed crew members following close behind. They came into the belly of the ship, to where rows upon rows of griffons and pegasi sat chained, forced to row by Raven and her crew.

The smell of sweat and water filled the air, as did the sound of those too tired to work any more. Some of Raven’s honorary crew members let out horrified gasps as they were assaulted by the smell of blood and sweat, an overpowering stench, and the sight of the chained rowers. Many of them had cruel lash marks on their backs; Grimlock’s anger increased as he noticed that it tended to be the younger ones who had the worst marks. Dozens of twisted runes sat on the oars and the walls as well, deadly contraptions devised by Raven to ‘encourage’ harder work.

When Grimlock was finally noticed by Raven’s slaves, the reaction was varied. Some panicked, fear spreading across their faces. A few let out sighs of release. But most looked at one another in confusion. Acheron’s captain was standing in The Specter’s dreaded ‘rower pit.’ The last time Grimlock had entered here was nine years ago, back when the two of them had first met. Only three of the slaves from then had survived to today. And Grimlock knew that.

Raven couldn’t help but snicker as she saw the look of horror on Grimlock’s face. “Don’t worry too much. I’ve been avoiding overworking them since last time. Turns out they last alot longer.”

“You know,” Grimlock muttered, fingering the sword at his side, “if we weren’t both on the same side, and I wasn’t onboard your ship, I would happily cut you down right now.”

Raven sneered, clearly enjoying having the upper hand. “But we are. Besides, you know my line of work. We’re here for the same goal: to overthrow the current rules in the griffon kingdom. We just happen to have different reasons.”

“Come to think of it,” Grimlock said half to himself as he moved a talon towards one of the many blades he kept concealed in his feathers, “I probably should kill you.” Raven felt the sweat begin to form on her forehead, but Grimlock stopped his movement, let out a long sigh and nodded towards the slaves. “Release the youngest. I’ll take them.”

Raven shrugged and gave the order. “Sure. Take them off my hands. In fact, you’re probably doing me a favor. Less dead weight.” There was a clink of chains being unlocked by Raven’s crewmen, followed soon after by a tired weeping as Grimlock made his way towards the collapsed slaves. Raven gave him a wide grin. “Thanks a ton for the help. Really appreciate it.”

“Make sure my crew survives,” Grimlock spat as he shepherded the now free slaves, who could barely manage to walk, up the stairs. “Otherwise I’ll almost certainly kill you. Same side or not.”

“You do that,” Raven said cheerfully. “Thanks for the help. See you around.” She aided Grimlock in getting to his ship, making it his turn to leap from one deck to the other, as he helped the former slaves across the gap. Raven watched them go, a sneer drifting across her features. Once Grimlock had finished crossing, Raven gave a shout of orders, and then The Specter began to pull away from Grimlock and Acheron’s crew, heading off for revenge and bounty.