Zandor

"Gun crews, ready!" He heard the captain's clear voice carrying over from the quarterdeck as he huddled by the rail, her command repeated by the masters of cannon on the gun decks below. Zandor clenches his eyes shut tight against the sight of the prize ship, his heart pounding madly in his chest. The captain's claws click rhythmically against the deck as she approaches the rest of the vanguard, that small, steady sound standing out somehow against the rest of the din: the ever-present slap of waves against the hull; the clank of metal as the other dragons of his crew make ready to go over the side; the shouts from the gundeck below.

Battle ready, the words return to Zandor's mind from earlier that day, when all of this had seemed a fine and exciting dream. It had been Gremory that asked if he thought he was prepared for what came next, pulling the young mirror aside, her talon on his shoulder. "It will not be what you think," she'd murmured, her pink eyes studying his. "It is not all glory, Zandor. There will be blood, violence, noise. Fear." His eyes must have widened then as he watched her, because the old pearlcatcher had smiled softly and nodded once. "Yes, we all feel fear. Even the Captain, I'm sure, though you'd never know it by looking or speaking to her." Zandor had set his jaw and nodded- of course he was ready! He'd sailed with the Defiant for a year now, he was ready to take the next step, to truly contribute to the crew.

'What a fool I was,' his mouth is dry as he huddles behind the rest of the vanguard, sword clutched in a talon that felt too weak to be of any use. The crew around him had done this hundreds of times, were fearless, feared. What was he doing? He felt sick. He didn't want to die.

It's these bleak thoughts that are tormenting him when he feels a talon on his shoulder, steady, strong. He looks up, right into the glowing green eyes of his captain, Khaegris. One eye is paler than the other, clouded by the scar she earned in the battle that made her captain. She was truly fearsome; Zandor had never seen her up so close. He'd never dared to look at the wildclaw so closely, and yet, here she was. He swallows, trying to banish the fear from his eyes.

The captain pretends not to notice his fear. "You will be fine. Your crew is with you." Zandor stares at her, scarcely believing what he was hearing. The Captain was offering words of comfort? To him? He didn't think she even knew his name. Khaegris looks over to the prize ship, being hauled close by grapples for them to board. The light in her eyes glows all the brighter, her muscles coiled in preparation to spring. And yet she looks back once more. "Good hunting, Zandor. Make me proud."

william taylor was a brisk young sailor full of heart and full of play ╞═══════════════⚔══════════════╡   The son of an astronomer and cartographer, lore lorem ipsum solor di amet blah blah dragons blah pirates blah help me make this pretty blah Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras arcu mauris, eleifend eu sapien pretium, sagittis pellentesque ex. Duis venenatis libero a sollicitudin fermentum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus in justo vulputate, luctus mauris eget, vehicula quam. Quisque ut sem nec ipsum lobortis consectetur. Aliquam sit amet risus rutrum, sodales enim vitae, convallis sem. Etiam eleifend efficitur risus, vel eleifend justo sodales et. Nulla at laoreet dui, bibendum elementum nulla. Nunc aliquam tellus sit amet consequat tempus. Pellentesque facilisis arcu quis ligula ornare pulvinar. Mauris suscipit est felis, non hendrerit urna pulvinar ac. Pellentesque nulla lacus, pretium et mauris nec, maximus posuere augue. Nullam facilisis posuere hendrerit. Etiam gravida ac justo at porta. Proin tempus ac nulla a congue. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Donec euismod consequat nunc, at interdum ex consectetur sit amet. Nunc aliquam ipsum at quam aliquet, eget aliquam eros rhoncus. Vivamus iaculis augue dui, sed finibus magna venenatis at. Cras pellentesque lobortis cursus. Sed ut vulputate turpis. Proin quis turpis justo.   ╞══════════════════════════════╡ TRAITS naive ♦ intelligent ♦ hardworking ETYMOLOGY: song sung by sailors to accompany labour. now we are ready to sail for the Horn weigh, hey, roll and go!

S H A N T Y cooper's mate ╞═════════════╡ AESTHETIC RELATIONSHIPS ♦♦ mother__♦__father ╞═════════════╡ profile & lore by ithika #46361 shield by starkindler #51686

---