Later

Full Name: Later Kidd Occupation: Ship captain, occassional merchant. Gender: Male (he/him) Orientation: ??? Status: ???

Fulgurite Minerals & Ores Created when lightning hits sand, these glassy structures can be used by scholars to track ancient weather patterns. (Special thanks to notronbro!) 83 Fishing Net Dragonmade Cast your nets wide and who knows what you'll bring in! 34 Ghostly Aura Trinkets Some say that you can't put a price on a soul. Others say 'I'll pay 47 treasure for that!' 47 Poltergeist Pile Familiar These spooky receptacles are said to be the ghostly remains of mimics. (You know, in case they weren't creepy enough.) 1500 Bountiful Fishnet Seafood A wriggling net full of an assortment of fresh-caught fish. 25 3 Swashbuckler's Cutlass Apparel This cutlass is used more for decoration than anything else. 0

When Captain Tyria laid a solitary egg part way through a three-month voyage, none of the crew were quite sure how to react. They weren't entirely sure which of them, if any, was the father - and were far too afraid to ask, lest they find the Captain's cutlass at their throats. That didn't stop any of them, however, from nervously and curiously prancing around the Captain's chambers at whatever chance they got.

"Oh, for the eleven's sake." The Skydancer pirate pushed her way out of her cabin, arms full of maps and documents, only to collide with three surprised shiphands who had been snooping, "If you're all that interested in the damned thing, you can take care of it. Taska!"

A portly grey-and-white Tundra whipped his head up, wide-eyed and mortified about being caught spying on his boss and sure he was going to be thrown to the Marens, "Y-yes, Captain?"

"I am so incredibly busy trying to keep this ship afloat and your sorry tails out of prison, so could you please keep that egg and the rest of this useless, gossiping crew away from me?" It was definitely more of a command than a question, and Taska was sure he saw her snout crinkle into a snarl momentarily.

"Of course, Captain."



Taska knew absolutely nothing about watching over an egg. He'd been on the seas since he was a pup, and it wasn't like he was particularly popular with female dragons. He felt like an overgrown chicken when he nestled on it, but felt like he wasn't doing enough when he left it. To make matters worse, it was an ice egg, so he had no idea if he was doing a decent job at keeping it warm - or if it even needed to be kept warm. And the rest of the crew were making fun of him. Things were not going his way.

"Look, it's Mama Taska!" Crooned a spindly mirror sailor who slank into the sleeping quarters with an air of hostility, "How's maternity treatin' you?"

"Shut it, Brosco." He snapped, furrowing his eyebrows in threat, "It's not like I asked for this! I can't very well let the Captain's kid die, can I?"

"Ooh, touchy." Smirked Brosco's partner, Torch; a massive maroon-coloured snapper with more scars than scales, "Maybe it's more than that. Maybe you're the pop."

"Oh, go play with a sword." Taska rolled his eyes and turned his back on his laughing shipmates. This predicament definitely had more to do with the gull incident of last spring than any possibility of him being the father; Tyria had definitely not forgiven him. Nor had she completely gotten the bird droppings out of her favourite coat.

It was at that moment that a chunk of ice dislodged itself from the egg's shell and fell to the floor with a clatter. All three dragons went silent, only daring to move their eyes to glance at eachother in confusion. Another chunk full free, followed by several small shards.

"Uh, what's happening?" Brosco asked, blinking all four eyes out of sync.

"I think it's hatching." Taska answered, barely above a whisper. Then, his body caught up with his mind, "Oh, deities above! It's hatching!"

The three pirates began to skitter around the room in a whirlwind of panic, unsure what to do about this new development.

"What do babies eat? I don't think we can give it rum, can we?"

"Do I need to do anything? Do I need to help it?"

"Should I get a damp towel?"

In the midst of all the confusion, a tiny Skydancer hatchling managed to shake itself free of it's icy prison. It stretched out it's flimsy wings and gave a small chirp, tilting it's head up at the three bumbling adults. None of them were expecting a dragon quite so red to come out of an ice egg, but there he was, shiny crimson scales glinting in the candlelight of the cabin. In all the absurdity, Taska's mind settled on one concrete response.

"Hey, Torch. Out of me and you," He gestured to his own greyish fur, then to Torch's big red frame, "Who do you think is more likely to be the 'pop'?" Brosco gave his partner the most withering look he could manage - which is pretty withering when you have twice the number of eyeballs as anyone else.

"Eheh, sorry about that, ol' Taska, mate." Torch grinned sheepishly. He wasn't the hatchling's father, he knew that for sure; as pirates go, he was pretty monogamous, "Let's not spread that around, huh?"

"Kinda gross, isn't it?" Brosco grimaced, reaching forward and prodding the baby in the side. He giggled and spluttered in typical baby gibberish, and both Taska and Torch immediately cooed. "Neither of you are good pirates. You know that, right?"

"Well..." Torch leaned back on his haunches, "I guess the Boss should know."

Taska gave a deep, resigned sigh. That was the part he had been dreading, "Either of you want to appoint yourself caretaker? No? Excellent." He bent his neck and picked up the hatchling, as gently as he could, by the scruff. It squirmed and thrashed a little in annoyance, before settling into a lifeless slump.

"You look even more like a mama now." Brosco guffawed with glee. Taska couldn't talk around the bundle in his jaws, so he settled on his best glare.

The walk to the Captain's quarters felt like a walk of shame. Everyone else on the ship stopped what they were doing to stop and gawk at Taska and his charge. He groaned inwardly and kept his eyes forward. This would all be over soon, right? When he reached the gilded door of Tyria's cabin, he knocked on it with a curled forepaw as urgently as he could. This would all be over soon.

"Come in." Came Tyria's voice, distant and uninterested, from within. Steeling himself, Taska entered the room. He had never actually been in the Captain's chambers. It was piled floor to ceiling with books, papers, and gadgets he had never seen before. He crept forward, desperate not to disturb anything, and sat the hatchling down on Tyria's desk.

"What is it?" She didn't even look up, glasses pushed up her snout, frantically scribbling lines on a map.

"Your, uh... Son. Your son has hatched. Congratulations, ma'am." The baby batted at a golden astrolabe that sat next to him on the desk and cooed in amusement as it span.

"Oh." Tyria raised her eyes to take in the tiny being that sat before her. "I see. Very good. Find him a place to sleep in the cabin."

"Uh, that's..... Well, boss..."

"Were my orders unclear, Mr. Taska?"

"No! No, of course not, ma'am." He stumbled forward in a daze, ready to pick up the hatchling again, when a thought struck him, "Um, what are you going to name him, ma'am?"

"What's that?" Tyria had gone back to her maps, "Oh, I'll name him later."

Taska felt something tighten in his chest. The little Skydancer stared up at him with big, innocent eyes, and he couldn't help but think that it had an inkling about what was occuring. Something told him to put a stop to it. Something told him that this helpless creature shouldn't be aware of how little his mother cared for him.

"Oh! Later! A marvelous name, ma'am." He faked a big, over-the-top grin, "Come on, Later. Let's get you back to the others."

"...And then you go under, like this." Taska nodded, guiding the little Skydancer's claws, "And there you have it! I told you, anyone can tie a good knot." He gave it a tug for good measure. When it didn't fall apart, the Skydancer beamed. "Nice job, Kid."

"Hey! Taska! Kid!" Torch's thunderous voice made them both perk up. He was thundering towards them, Brosco in tow, "How goes kindergarten?"

"Shove a rock in it, you big lard." Taska hissed, making his student fall apart laughing. "By the way, when I said anyone can tie a knot, I meant anyone except Snappers." He snapped his claws together and mouthed, It's the elephant feet.

"Pfft, I don't need to tie knots. I'm more of a breaking stuff kinda guy."

"Yes, like my lovely seashell art." Brosco drawled sarcastically, "Love how you just demolished that."

"Neither of you are good pirates. You know that, right?" Later gasped out between laughs. Brosco looked mildly offended, whilst Torch just nodded wisely. Taska ruffled Later's mane between his horns.

"Man, we have taught you well, Kid."

The four sat in silence for a moment, listening to the gulls squawk overhead, when Later suddenly piped up, "Why do you call me Kid?"

"Because you're a kid, Kid." Brosco snorted, as though it was obvious, and picked up a sponge to settle into cleaning the deck.

"No, I mean, my name is Later, isn't it? Why do you never call me that?"

An uncomfortable silence fell across the three older dragons as they glanced back and forth between each other. None of them had felt comfortable with the 'given name' of the little hatchling. Even for pirates, that just seemed cruel. With no suitable alternative, they had just fallen into 'kid' and hoped he wouldn't question it.

"Well.... It's because.... Kidd is your second name. It's got, uh, two d's on the end." Taska explained hurriedly, making it up as he went along. Brosco and Torch nodded frantically.

"I have a second name?!" Later gasped, standing up straight suddenly, "Wow! That's twice as many names as I thought I had! So I'm... Later Kidd?"

"Yeah! As in, Later, Kid! Get it?" Torch bellowed, his laughter rocking the ship slightly. Brosco rolled all four of his eyes and smacked him over the head with his sponge.

"You guys are weird." Later smiled fondly. "Taska, are we going to have our sword lessons soon?"

"Ooh, sword lessons from Mama Taska." Brosco chirped, "Too bad Mama Taska can't swing a sword to save his life."

Taska rocked back on his haunches and crossed his front legs over his chest, "And I suppose you could do better, could you?"

"Well, not Torch." Later reasoned, then mouthed, It's the elephant feet.

The four of them erupted into laughter.

It was a breezy early autumn day out on the ocean, and Later was enjoying every moment of it. Sat up on the rail at the stern of The Oceanmaw, the ship which had been his birthplace and his home, he watched the continent of Sornieth drift steadily further away. He had become a fine young dragon, with rippling muscles and strong wings. He had been raised by the crew in it's entirety, and felt a familial bond with them all - but mostly Taska, Brosco and Torch, who had become the closest thing he had to real blood family. Yet he couldn't help but notice there was something off in the way the other dragons sometimes treated him. There would be sideways looks or whispers when they thought he couldn't see them, and particularly when Tyria, his mysterious but fantastic captain, walked by - every dragon within sight would collectively hold their breath as if waiting for something to happen. But Tyria would always just nod at him, maybe throw in a "Good work, shipmate," and be on her way. She didn't seem to treat him any differently, but... It was almost as if everyone else expected her to.

"What are you doing up there, Kidd?" Taska's voice was always soothing to him, "Miss land that much already?"

"More like, glad to see the back of it. I can't wait to get back to pillaging ships and daring sword fights. Much more my style than boring market towns." He grinned, hopping down off the rail to face his oldest friend. Taska slumped down beside him with a sly smile,

"The locals really like you, huh? Must be how you shine like rubies in the sunlight." He wrung his front claws, mocking a particularly ernest shop clerk who was always overcome by Later's striking good looks.

"Ugh, spare me. The only good thing about dry land is you and Torch finally taking a bath," He wrinkled his snout, "You can get pretty fresh when we are out here for months."

"Ah, yes, it's the wet wolf smell of my fur, huh? Not appetizing. I just wish Brosco would bathe sometimes, too."

"We're pirates! We aren't supposed to smell like marigold and orchids!" Later screeched, doing an admittedly good impression of the bony Mirror.

"I dunno about you, I think orchids and the blood of our enemies go together pretty nicely"

The two chatted amiably for a bit longer, before Later suddenly quietened. "Hey, Taska?"

"Yes?"

"Why does the crew always tense up when Tyria is near me?"

Taska sighed and rubbed his snout. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation, keep the boy in a false family of rowdy sailors, but it had finally come up.

"Look, Kidd. You... You deserve the truth. It's not a nice one, though."

"Please.... tell me."

Taska really was planning on telling him. But when he glanced out at the open ocean, hoping to find confidence there, he found he could no longer speak.

"Taska?"

"Oh, oh no, they've sent the Charge Crusade after us?" Taska blanched, his throat dry with fear. Moments later, Brosco, who had been sat in the crow's nest, blew the emergency horn,

"The Charge! It's the Charge!"

In the ocean, speeding towards them, was a massive golden ship with billowing white sails. Upon them was painted the dreaded emblem: a huge draconic claw with a dagger through the palm.

"Why the Charge? We're just petty thieves!" Later gasped, feeling his blood run cold. The Charge Crusade were an elite crew made up entirely of Guardians; each and every one of them had the pursuit of justice as their charge. They were formidable, they were experts, and more importantly: they never lost. They were usually sent out as a last resort again the most dastardly of Sornieth's criminals, once it was clear bargaining and peaceful methods wouldn't work.

Taska hated them, but never thought he would ever have to face them.

tbc