*Rough map for geographical reference*
--
Netherveil waters looked as black as the depth of the ocean. The stormy clouds above block out the sun's rays, enshrouding the waters below in a dark abyss.
Despite the heavy thunder in the sky, the stillness of Netherveil remains untouched.
It was this silence that made Netherveil even more dangerous. Stretching between Vulkaris in the east and Dusthaven in the south, Netherveil had become home to mysterious creatures and merciless pirates who ruled the waters.
Its vast expanse is dotted with numerous islands, standing alone and isolated from the living. On one such island, a massive ship is anchored to the shore. Its sheer size is magnanimous and sturdy enough to carry a hundred elephants in its hull.
Its pitch-black surface and sails, silky as a crow's feathers, made its presence invisible as a shadow in the dark.
The name 'Black Swan' is engraved in wood beneath the elegant figurehead of the mesmerizing swan.
"Bok-bok-bwaaaak!"
The silence of the water was instantly shattered by the panicky cry of the chicken as it flailed in the air, desperately trying to escape the group of crewmen chasing it behind, attempting to catch it.
A group of over ten men from the Black Swan pursued the hen, colliding and bumping into each other in their chaotic chase.
The chicken, probably guessing its fate would end if caught, frantically fluttered its wing, leaping from one head to another and dodging those who lunged at it.
A short man from the crew whose right eye was patched slowly tiptoed forward, gripping a net tightly in his hands. At the right moment, he threw the net over the hen.
But to his dismay, the hen flew past him, and instead, the net trapped one of his fellow pirates.
The man glared daggers at him.
"Has your other eye rotted too? Get this off me, you fool!" he yelled, thrashing inside the net.
The one-eyed man scratched his head, hastily removing the net from his unfortunate crewmate.
The others on the ground groaned and cursed, their gazes following the hen as it flew through one of the portholes of their ship.
"We're doomed," a few men whispered, their eyes fixed in horror on the hole where the hen had vanished.
Because, of all places, the chicken decided to enter their captain's room!
Inside the cabin, the hen gawked cautiously, stepping forward as if testing the waters of its own fate.
Inside the dimly lit cabin, Rowan Stromrider, the notorious pirate of Netherveil, lounged in his grand bathtub, which was nothing less than a king's luxury.
Though the Netherveil is a home for many pirates, the one who stands at the top of the hierarchy is Rowan, feared not only by the fellow wanderers of the dark waters but also by the rulers and people of all four kingdoms.
His name alone evokes fear among the folks. Tales of his adventures spread so far and wide that even the children of the four kingdoms were aware of his name and deeds.
'Eat or be eaten by the Phantom of Netherveil' is a famous scary tale told by mothers across the kingdoms to frighten their children to eat and behave well.
In the midst of his beauty bath, Rowan sang in a deep, lazy drawl, the rhythm bouncing off the wooden walls.
Rowan sails where shadow calls,
Through raging tides and midnight squalls.
Whiskey's warm, and rum is bold,
A sailor's tale is always told.
Johnny drinks more and more,
Wakes in the morning, head so sore—and swear,
All 'cause he wet his underwear.
Rowan chuckled in amusement at his own song while scrubbing his arms and playing idly with the yellow rubber duck bobbing in the bathtub. Once finished, he stepped out of the bath.
Ignoring his bare form, Rowan picked up a soft towel and meticulously wrapped it around his majestic hair, letting the water absorb into it. Taking the seat in front of the mirror, he picked up a pair of scissors and pulled the towel off his head.
His tousled, well-maintained hair tumbled down, strands falling over his sharp eyes. A big grin stretched across his lips as he admired his reflection in the mirror, clearly pleased with his majestic hair and his striking appearance.
Holding the scissors in his hand, he gathered a very, very small section of his hair, leveling it with his fingers before carefully trimming the ends.
All was good until the stone struck the side of the ship, just inches away from the opening of the porthole. The chicken, which silently perched inside the cabin, got startled by the sound and immediately flung its wings in panic, knocking over several objects.
But the worst came when it flew straight toward Rowan.
Rowan's hands jerked, and in the single moment of chaos, the once thick strands of hair he had been carefully trimming floated like a snowflake dancing in air before settling beautifully on the table.
He froze.
For a second he stared back and forth between the single delicate strand of hair pinched between his fingers and a thick chunk of hair resting on the table.
His chest rose sharply, his beard quivered, and then…
"WHO? WHICH BASTARD DID THIS?!"
His roar echoed inside the ship like a cannon blast.
The people outside the ship shivered at the unmistakable wrath in their captain's voice.
Amidst the chaos, the chicken darted between the crew members' legs, slipping through their grasp and scurrying into the large galley at the forecastle of the ship right below the main deck.
Unaware it had arrived in its own coffin, the foolish bird leaped from one utensil to another, finally perching on the rim of a large pot filled with boiling water above the mud stove.
It curiously peeked down at the popping bubbles and the rising steam. The men chasing the chicken rubbed their hands, finding the perfect moment to strike.
But before they could make a move, a small stone whizzed from an unseen direction, striking the hen's back with a well-aimed hit.
PLOP!
The bird tumbled straight into the pot.
At that very instant, a man standing beside the pot slammed the heavy lid shut. The crewmen, still catching their breath from all the chasing and running, whirled around in the direction the stone came from.
There, leaning casually on the entrance of the galley, a young man smirked at them, a slingshot dangling between his fingers.
Uthayn grinned widely, winking at the stunned crew.
"A pot of chicken stew for me—thank you."