His fingers laced around the linen, as he gradually increased the pressure he had on Altair's throat. "More lashes, and it will kill you? What an amusing joke, slave. Do you truly think that you have been given even close to the highest amount of lashes I have ever dealt...? You have been blessed with the lowest amount of lashes, second only to lashes I might give my crew," Cygnus growled. "You were given twelve lashes. A worse slave would survive five and twenty, if not more. And yet you bemoan yourself, lamenting how your pain as if it is the worst in the world... I suppose I'll give you the mercy of rest, by nestling your neck with this strip of linen and depriving you from precious breath."<br/><br/><i>If you would only swallow your pride, then I wouldn't have to practice brutality upon you, </i>Cygnus thought.<i>Obedience was simple, so simple, yet for you it was difficult. As simple as begging for forgiveness, bowing your head and lowering yourself to knees. Even a pirate like me can bend the knee. Yet you scorned me like a lord's whore, praying to your goddess for my end. Even if you believe yourself to be the fairest of slaves, from sea's waves to land's beginning,you are still a slave. Nothing will change that, you whore. You say you are educated, and yet you carry yourself in the manner that a king would. Only a fool would take on the airs of a king, when he lacks a crown. I only deal with one king, not multiple. And you are no king.</i><br/><br/>Altair's lack of struggle amused him.<i>Are you asking for death, slave? You refuse to beg for me, so that you may hasten your journey to your goddess? Or are you still shielding your fragile pride hopelessly, so that you may feel like a master for a day more? Pathetic, slave, pathetic. </i>Cygnus felt Altair's hand reach up to touch him, and gently pull him closer.<i>Is this an attempt to placate me, if so, you miserably fail ---</i><br/><br/>Cygnus tumbled into the bench of the ship prison as the ship suddenly lurched, hard enough that even he lost his balance. "What...?" Cygnus muttered. "Stay here, slave. Have enough sense to obey me in this instance."<i>Too hard. What has occurred? Have we landed on a shallow isle, or crashed into a crag of stone? </i>Cygnus exited the brig, as the iron gate slammed closed behind him. With the speed of a snow rabbit he dashed to the stairs, going up them as he resurfaced from below decks. Something was brewing, but he didn't know what.<br/><br/>On the deck members of his crew scurried about, fastening ropes to the deck of<i>The Siren</i>, lugging loose objects beneath the deck for protection. The two merchant ships had furthered the gap between them, the boards that had connected them pulled onto decks. Two of his men herded the slaves below deck, back to the brig. Others folded the sails and began tying rope around their waists, fastening themselves to the decks to provide a modicum of stability among the looming storm. "Captain!" barked a voice of one of his men, as Cygnus turned to meet his eyes. "A storm is brewing, and we're going to take the brunt of it!"<br/><br/>Overhead in the sky gray clouds grazed in the sky, the birth of a sudden storm.<i>A storm? It had been clear as ocean in the sky, before and after the whipping. Now there is a storm. Gods help us. </i>The storm had taken them so suddenly that there was naught they could do save for secure themselves and wait out the storm. Had they had more time, they might've been able to skirt around the storm, or sail away. But now there was no way for them to escape the storm, and like it or not they would have to survive as the sea battered at them with all of its might.<br/><br/>Darkness descended upon him and his crew as the storm reached its crescendo. This storm - no, tempest - shook their ships beyond anything they had experienced before. Perhaps it was that the sea gods were testing them, or that they had taken offense to some insult. Either way, the sea raged with the power of a thousand whales, slamming into the sides of the ships and washing away the stain left on the deck by Altair's blood with salt water. The wind that had sweetly nestled them forth in the ocean and blew a calm melody had become a banshee - wailing in the same manner that Altair had when he was being flogged, and whipping at their flesh with swift gale.<br/><br/>Cygnus had been at the wheel of the ship, steering the ship in an effort to avoid broaching and to keep it upright. Around his waist he had bound a thick length of rope, anchoring himself to the sanded wood of the wheel. The deck was slippery with sea water, and if he was not careful he could easily slip and slide overboard. Wind and sea blinded and deafened him considerably, but he tried to keep his focus on the ship and the whereabouts of his crew.<i>I can only pray that all of my crew remains intact, as this tempest consumes us.</i><br/><br/>Nearly on the horizon of his vision was Mors, one of his senior crew mates, near the edge of the ship's railing. A rope had snapped and he had been refastening it, when the ship lurched and he tumbled over the edge of the ship's railing. He too had a rope around his waist, but the rope could only handle so much, as Cygnus watched it snap and whip backwards. Cygnus had bolted for Mors as he fell, but he slipped, crashing into the deck. "Man overboard!" Cygnus cried, though his words fell upon deaf ears.<i>Gods, no. Not Mors, he has been with me longest. </i>As he climbed to his feet he ran to the edge, careful, holding onto the railing as he watched Mors' head dip beneath the surface of the water, never to arise again.<br/><br/>The storm broke as morning rose again, and crew members were exhausted. With great fortune, they had only lost Mors. Cygnus had expected there to be silence for some time, a vigil for Mors, but instead the air was filled with fearful rambling. Cygnus untied the rope from around his waist, striding over to where the majority of his crew swirled. "H-He's dead! A-And he was one of the most senior members of the crew, h-how could he have fallen!? I-I'm telling you, it was that slave! He had m-marked Mors with blood, and because of that Mors died! He's a demon, a demon!" cried one of his crew mates hysterically, his voice higher in fear. The faces of his men reflected fear, fear of a higher order. The discontent murmuring of the crew only served to cement the hysteria.<br/><br/>Cygnus himself felt the fear as well, albeit at a severely lesser degree compared to the rest of his crew. The storm had been so unnatural, almost as if the gods had wished it upon them. Mors had been one of the best of the crew, sure footed and dexterous. He had been oft compared to a sea snake, fast, smart, and perfect for the life of a pirate. But he had been the only one to die this storm, and he had been marked sanguine by the blood of a demonic slave.