<span style="font-style: italic">Maddening.</span><br/><br/>That's all he can say, though the many years at sea, he can never get used to the smell of salt in the air, the rushing of the water against the ship, the rocking vessel as waves after waves tries to topple it down. The blonde haired, pale skinned man is a rarity among the Idreans aboard the ship. Gregor had now been hired for a couple of months aboard the slaver ship, though contradictory to what he believe of slavery, the pay's good enough to not make him question the authority.<br/><br/>The morning is calm, if not eerily quiet. The captain which he come to be acquainted to walks towards him, with a drowsy face marking his lack of sleep, if he had any, that is. "Morning, MacAndrews." The middle-aged man said as he offers Gregor a canteen, most likely to be alcohol. "Well, morning cap'n-" His voice was cut short as he took the canteen and gulped it down. "Never too early for a good booze." The both of them became close ever since the ship set sail from Idrea two months ago, the captain often invites Gregor to dinners just to sate his curiosity about Celenes, although Gregor was certain the captain is just planning another raid.<br/><br/>"We set course for Celenes." The captain is fixated on a map and some charts, with the navigator besides him inside his cabin. "Celenes? You aren't planning to raid again, right?" Gregor answered, his tone is assertive this time.<br/><br/>"Well, we can't sell those slaves there, what the hell do you think I'm gonna do then?" The captain half-answered Gregor's question and took his attention to the charts.<br/><br/>"Don't we have enough already now? You'll get the ship overloaded with all those men." Gregor said, trying to convince the captain, though he does not have high hopes.<br/><br/>"Overloaded?! Ha! The gods gave you a sense of humor kid! More slaves means more golds, and more golds means you get paid more, so cut your crap off-" The captain didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as a couple of raging slaves charged through the cabin doors. Gregor is alerted and quickly draw his rapier, swinging and stabbing gracefully as he fought more and more slaves that enters the cabin, the captain also got himself busy with a couple of fairly large men.<br/><br/>"Get yourself up! To the deck!" Gregor commands the captain as he slash the throat of a charging Merfolk. Both of them cleared the way up onto the deck, and eventually on the helm. It didn't take long for Gregor to assess the situation. It's not what he thought it was. He was assuming a dozen of slaves made their way around the rusting cells, this is different. He is met with the sight of the whole load of slaves aboard the ship fighting with the guards and slavers, their brute force slowly overcoming the struggling sailors. The outcome is clear, if he didn't get killed, he'll be imprisoned, and the latter is far less likely, considering these men aren't taking any chances with their "master."<br/><br/>The ship rock a few times before he decided, he saw the captain fighting a few more revolting slaves and with a quick flurry, send all of them dropping dead. Gregor takes a look at the man who paid him well, made sure he is well fed, and took a care about his origins more than anyone else he ever met in Idrea. Then he points his rapier straight to his neck. Both of them are looking at each other straight in the eyes. "I should've known." The captain's tone is accompanied with a strong cynicism that came all of a sudden.<br/><br/>"Tell me, have you been working with them all along?" The captain's question feels desperate, if not deeply curious. "No, you don't understand. I'm on the winning side, and clearly you're not that side now, are you?" Gregor's glare grew sharp. "I hope it's worth it, Gregor. You don't know what you're getting yourself into." The cynicism died, the captain's tone is full of desperation now. "We'll just have to see, aren't we?" Though he mustered all his will, he simply can't take the life out of this man, and so with a slash of the blade, Gregor cut the man's thigh tendon, hopefully buying him time to not come after him. The captain dropped down on his back while screaming painfully.<br/><br/>Gregor continue to help the slaves fought against the slavers. Everyone he knew, he fought with all that time now he fought against. If he was to be safely regarded as an ally, he might as well look and do the part. He is more or less successful, because as soon as the battle died down, no one hunted him out. The treason he did was nothing compared to what he had endured all these years. Honor, for him, had been rotten deep beneath his blackened heart, full of vengeance, full of hatred towards Idrea. And this newfound crews of slaves he got may as well be his conduit to that revenge.