It was a small shame that Altair needed to die here. He was a pleasant whore, the most beautiful out of any on the ship. A tight hole and smooth flesh, silky golden hair. Of course, Cygnus had planned to kill Altair. But not like this. He had intended the slave for a gruesome death by the hands of the darkest souls he knew. The wounding of Merven's eye had been completely unexpected, uncharacteristic of the slave – until that point, the slave had adhered to craven pacifism. Unresponsive and still even as he had been raped dozens and dozens of times.<br/><br/>The slave was scaring his men, and he could feel the unease heavy on the air. To the men the slave had summoned his god to smite down one of their fellow crew men, and now he had wounded yet another man. A man would do anything to return to semblance of calm, even commit murder. Cygnus had been the one to pardon the slave, instead of killing him like how he would usually. The captain had also been the one to wrong the slave first, and more so than the rest of them. Allowing Altair to live now would likely spell death for him – the only path he saw was either the death of the slave regardless, and possibly him as well. It was not unlikely that the crew would slaughter him if he chose mercy for the slave once more. A cornered bitch went right for the throat, and each one of his men were bitches then and there.<br/><br/>On and on did Altair prattle and pray, flowing from one language to the next. One second it was recognizable as the common tongue of Weiss, the next Dusanian, and other times it was unintelligible. Those that had scabbards bound at their side had perched their hands on the hilts of their swords, fearing that the slave might strike them down. Only Cygnus had his blade trained on the slave, the edge pressed against Altair's delicate throat flesh. The threat that loomed over the slave stayed the men from any irrational decision. “Go backwards if you'd like your body to remain whole when you die. I'm quite willing to lop off your nose if you don't listen to me.” On cue he lifted his sword, grazing the tip of Altair's nose. Slowly, the captain pushed the slave back – towards the railing of the ship – by nudging him backwards with his blade.<br/><br/>The slave had his back to the railing, when the man he had commanded to fetch the barrel returned. The barrel was empty, old but sturdy – crafted out of bronzewood planks and iron rings. It had survived many a trip, and its wood was stained deep, forever damp with sea water. Years of exposure had rusted the rings into a mottled copper. The man began to roll it over with a constant scraping noise of barrel wood against deck wood, until the barrel came to rest beside Cygnus. Then the captain nudged it over to Altair, until the barrel touched the slave.<br/><br/>“Let me explain what the traditional way is. I don't believe that you are familiar with it,” Cygnus stated. He began to pace back and forth, glaring at the slave. “Traditionally... if a man were to be killed on a ship, a man had three choices. Beg for forgiveness to the ship's captain... which rarely worked. Leave his death up to the crew of the ship, which could be blessedly painless or insurmountably agonizing. Or have the captain leave his fate up to the gods. If the man chose not to beg but to leave his fate to the gods, he would jump overboard, given something to drift upon. If the gods deemed it, the man would live. If not, he would drown and die.”<br/><br/>Cygnus returned to Altair, touching his blade against the slave's forehead. “You already know begging will not work, so you have two choices. The sea or you can leave your way of death up to my crew and I. Perhaps we might rape you again and slit your throat afterwards. Perhaps I might remove your teeth and cut out your tongue so you can drown on your blood. Or eviscerate you,” Cygnus cruelly offered. He laughed, crouching down to grab a fistful of the slave's hair to force him to look him in the eye.<br/><br/>There would be no good choice for Altair. Either way he would die. The seas around Weiss were chilling and freezing, sucking the cold out of a man as easily as a whore sucked seed out of a cock. He had two choices – a death where he would die surrounded by endless azure, destined to freeze or drown, or a bloody death, one where he would be raped again, his final moments surrounded by the pirates who had raped him. Of course, Cygnus already knew which choice the slave would go with.<br/><br/>“Well?<i>Choose. </i>Would you like me to kill you or would you like to kill yourself?<i>”</i>