Rum wasn't used to being chained and shackled, poked around with swords, and treated like a dangerous felon known for devouring babies. And if he was being honest with himself, he was a little offended he wasn't being treated like that now. Led along beside Molotov and the pirates, Rum emerged from the jungle, blinking in the sudden sunlight.

Annay's camp, on a low beach half-flooded and muddy, was a bustle of activity. Rum flitted about in the pirate column like an anxious fly, periodically attempting to find a way out- and finding nothing but gap-toothed smiles and pointy crossbows in his way. Nursing the massive lump on the back of his head, he was forced to follow along as the pirates dragged Molotov gradually toward a large tent half-submerged in the low-tide, a billowing red-black flag above identifying it as Annay's command post. Every so often the pirates would stop, shackling another chain around Molotov, a muzzle for his mouth, a jacket to pin his arms around behind him. The wizard, head still lolling, was in no condition to fight back.

Rum was left mostly to his own devices after recovering the ability to walk. This freed up a lot of time to devote to his new favorite hobby, panicking. And there was quite a lot to panic about, given the circumstances. The camp was a relentless swell of activity, pirates rushing about and creating defensive pickets, restringing crossbows, orders and curses shouted out with equal grit-

Rum blinked. Wait, why are they preparing this place for an attack? He'd always been good with faces- and it was clear that fear ran wild through the camp, obvious from every grim set of eyes he passed by, every quickened step. Surely they're not scared of me?

A bellowing roar shattered the steady noise of the camp, an echoing sound of thunder from the green canopy of trees.

Oh. That. That's what they're scared of.

The pirates spun in unison, watching the treeline. In the distance, almost in answer, came a blood-curdling human scream, the sound of violent death. Frozen by the earth-shaking roar, Rum's eyes were wide, staring at the wild jungle he'd just exited. It was surreal, uncanny to think that mere moments before he'd been within it, helplessly wandering around where that... thing... had lived. It was almost enough to make him faint- but before he could he was grabbed violently by the arm, ushered foreward again.

Is there any possible way for this to go worse?

---

The roar echoed through Annay's tent, sending ripples through the water of her bath. Standing beside her, Chalk let out a squeak, dropping several parchments into the water with a satisfying plonk. Annay, cleaning the dirt from beneath her fingernails with a dagger, froze as the water splashed up, hitting her full in the face. Already the soggy paper was ruined, ink sprawling out and dirtying the water.

"Was that important?" Annay asked, flicking damp curls out of her face and gesturing to the water-logged scrolls. Chalk stuttered.

"I uhm, yes. It was the only remaining copy of Sir Francis Herbidopolossis' Treatsie on the Submerged Gods. So, kind of irreplaceable, yes."

Annay nodded. "Oh, well good." With lightening speed, she flipped the dagger in her hand, swinging it around and stopping it a mere inch from Chalk's exposed throat. The weedy tiefling let out a stuttering gulp, half-crouched and frozen in place.

"Chalk? Would you be a dear and go find out what that racket outside was?"

The tiefling paused for a moment, contemplating his options. Investigate a terrifying roar from within the deep jungles of an unknown island... or spend a second longer with his Captain.

Annay watched as Chalk sped off, leaving her alone within the spacious command tent. She sighed, sinking lower into the water, using the dagger to flick scraps of the soggy papyrus out and onto the sand. The tiefling was a decent scholar, but was growing more irritating by the day. The longer he stood beside her, hovering over her shoulder and trying to be useful, the more angry she became. The water around her felt like it was rising to a boil- and she longed for a way to vent her frustration.

Suddenly, the tent flap was pulled open.

"Rum and Molotov," Annay purred from the depths of the tub. Two of her commanders, Ostentatious Mullins and Kadiruk the Orc, entered the tent, dragging the spaghetti-noodle bard and his red-haired wizard companion. Currently locked in several sets of chains, Molotov could barely stand on his own- he bobbed and weaved in place, affected by a non-existent breeze. Drool dribbled down his chin, and his eyes wandered, his pupils never agreeing on which way to go.

Rum gave a very punchable smile. Legs already shaking, he raised a hand in a timid greeting. "H-hello Annay. It's so great to see you're uhm, in a position of power in the workplace. That's really great! Girl boss!"

Annay did not respond. She let Rum marinate in the awkward silence for a minute before responding. "You duped me, Rumma von Adilstan. You puttered along, following my ship all the way from the Yellow Haven Archipelago. You even tried to hit on me, if memory serves."

The bard squeaked, pointing a finger at himself. "What? No- I- I'm just a-"

"A wandering bard? Just an innocent poet, taking to the sea in search of adventure and inspiration?" Annay snapped. "Don't make me laugh. Can you imagine anyone so stupid in this world filled with gods and monsters? Someone STUPID enough to willingly wander the Foggy Ocean for such a STUPID dream?"

She jabbed the dagger towards him and he jumped back, bumping into Molotov. "You're a thief," Annay growled. "And a cowardly one at that. You barely have the guts to look at me, and you try to steal my treasure out from under my nose? You think you're clever?"

With a whistle, Mullins and Kadiruk stepped forward, each grabbing Rum by one of his ears and yanking him forward to the edge of the bath. The cutlass clattered at his hip as the pirates dragged him before Annay. She sat up, flicking her tail out and splashing the poet with the soapy water. He sputtered, spitting it out, trying his best to formulate a sentence.

"I-I saved you from those sharks! They had a pocket-knife!" Rum stuttered, his face bunched up with pain. The pirates tweaked his ears.

"You nearly FED me to one of them," Annay growled, eyes narrowing. "You probably would have if only you'd been certain you could snatch the sword without me doing all the dirty work for you! What secret path led you to the forbidden city? How did you break through the magic barriers!? How did you find the sword without the seastone key?!"

"I honestly... have absolutely no idea what you're talking about- I think this is all just a BIG misunderstanding," Rum squealed. Mullins yanked on his ear and he flinched in pain, head twisting back. "Ow- ow- ow! We were just passing by! We were trying to help you out, and then Molotov decided to dig a hole and- and-"

"You're a liar and a thief! You've got the sword on your hip right now!" Annay snarled. She paused for a second, considering these words. "Mullins?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Why IS he still wearing the sword?"

Mullins frowned, honest confusion on her face. She worked her jaw, looking down at the cutlass strapped through Rum's belt, then back at her Captain. "Oh. You mean that sword?"

"Yes, that sword," Annay began, attempting to remain patient. "The Sword of the Sea. Foam-Cutter. The sword we're here to steal. The sword of powerful and unknown magics from the Age of Chaos and Fire, the sword that can tear empire's in two, fill the seas with magic and blood. A world-shifting nightmare weapon of unholy terror. The sword I want. The sword I need. THAT sword."

Rum's face had turned white and he was in the midst of making strange, panicked gurgling noises that died in his throat. Mullins nodded considering everything. "I guess I just... didn't think to take it off him?"

The water around Annay began to boil. She felt veins throbbing in her temples, her neck. Letting out a breath through gritted teeth, Annay recomposed herself.

"Mullins? My loyal lieutenant who doesn't want to be dipped in honey and dragged naked behind the boat for the wasp-fish to devour? Can you kindly... TAKE the sword off him?"

"Oh er, right," Mullins said hastily. She let go of Rum's ear and went for the sword, snatching at the scabbard.

Then, as things are wont to do in the Foggy Ocean, something strange happened. Before Annay's eyes, an odd glaze seemed to wash over Mullins' face. Her eyes dimmed, skin seeming to lose vitality. The pirate froze in place, hand still clutching the scabbard around Rum's waist. The metallic smell of magic filled the command tent. Kadiruk gave a low curse and jumped away from Rum's ear like he'd been shocked. The orc retreated a step, his own hand going to the katana at his belt.

Rum looked around, stuck in the middle of the shocked silence. He gave an embarrassed smile to Annay, hands still raised in the air. He waggled his hips, as if trying to pull the cutlass free from his belt. It didn't work.

"I think it... may be magically stuck to me?" Rum said apologetically. "But! Uh- that's not a problem! I don't REALLY want a sword anyway- it's much too heroic for a guy like me, it's far too "protagonist" for my liking. We can just wake Molotov up, I'll have him do some sort of magical spell to yank it off me, and we can pass it over to you easy-peasy!"

Rum smiled nervously. Annay's eye twitched with rage.

"Or," Annay began, her voice low and steady, like a cold blade. "We could take you outside and hack off your stupid head. And then the sword will be unattached, yes? Just like how your head will be unattached to your shoulders."

Rum gaped. Several sentences made a brave attempt at starting, and then fled back down his throat. "Wh-huh-hubhubmm..." he managed.

"That was very convincing. Terribly earnest," Annay said. "Would you like to try again?"

"P-pirate trial?" Rum ventured. "R-right to a fair trial before my peers?"

"Oh, that's a very good one," Annay smiled. "I'll be the judge. You're guilty. We're going to execute you now. Case closed, court adjourned. Mullins!" The pirate was still frozen, hand on the scabbard. Annay sighed in frustration.

Behind Rum, Kadiruk slid his katana free, the rasp of steel causing him to jump. Rum darted across to the side of the tent, head bobbing around in search of an exit. Annay watched with amusement, as the orc levelled his sword towards Rum's chest, and began stalking forward. Mullins, free from the grip of the cutlass, wavered at the edge of the tub, blinking as if awoken from a long sleep.

"H-hold it!" Rum's hand darted down, gripping the hilt of Foam-Cutter. "I've got a- a really strong sword here! A really magical one! Don't make me draw it!"

Kadiruk hesitated. Annay sat up, gripping the edge of the bath-tub, her tail flicking about in frustration. But as she stared at the poet, her fear vanished. In fact, she could have laughed.

Rum's legs wobbled and shook like noodles in the midst of an earthquake. His hand twitched over the handle of the weapon- but his eyes were wide and terrified. Even if he does draw it, he's more scared than we are!

Annay eased back into the waters, a cruel smile playing across her face. "Go ahead, Rum. Give it a try."

Rum swallowed and looked down at the sword by his side. He tightened his hand around the grip, breathed in deep, and with one decisive move, pulled.

The cutlass stuck fast in its sheathe.