The Dash for Shelter


The lightning clashed in the distance.

They would barely make it to port before the storm caught up with them. The crashing of the waves, the howl of the wind and the cannon like booms of the artillery, harkened their approach. The fast smuggler’s ship sped through the debris and former barricades. None but a great captain would know that move…that route…they were all wrong. An undead captain would still know…

                The small wing of undead schooners broke through the line and heaved towards the starboard, before twisting to the port in an ill-conceived feint, working on only half the pursing fleet…and the one ship they were told to entrap.

The other half was not a worry, but landside, or whatever those…fuck!

Another bolt of green energy shot over the bow of the small schooner. The crew was dead, he had no chance of fighting them…he had to jump…


The thump…the impact on his back from landing on the rest of the dead in the pit is the first memory he has. Samuall doesn’t share that with anyone. Not after what happened to his parents…had it been him?

The lightning clashed in the distance…