Thunderous cannon fire filled the air, and the smell of hot lead reached the adventurer’s noses as their small transport fleet engaged in battle. Shots tore small holes through the advancing pirate ship, revealing its damp framework; but the massive rig kept its course, and only a few moments later, rammed itself through the east most transport vessel. Blue etchings began to glow along the sides of the pirate ship, and its hull stayed solid, even after being battered so violently.

The sound of the two vessels grating against each other sent chills down the jester’s pale back. This was the first time he had ever witnessed real loss of life, and the sight was not one to be forgotten. Stricken with grief from the event, the small man pulled out a wooden lute made from the famous dark colored mahogany from the Icarian Domain. With his voice still hoarse from his coughing fit, the jester was unable to sing; but a melancholy melody would be perfect for this moment. As he strummed his very first chord, the small man instantly snapped a string.

The abnormally large warrior quickly wrapped up the long sword in his hands and slung it over his shoulder with his other weapons. Action had to be taken, so the man immediately ran down below the deck.

The faithful and loyal jester followed in pursuit. Clearing his throat, for the first time on this entire journey, the small man was going to speak up. “Excuse me, sir!” The entertainer squeaked in an unbelievably high pitched voice, not too different from that of a child. The warrior stopped for a moment, unsure if he had heard a voice over the battle or not.  But after a split second, the man continued his walk, and began rummaging through trunks and barrels around the room.

Determined to be heard, the small jester spoke up once again. A little louder this time, he squeaked, “Sir! Do you really think this is a good time for thievery?”

“By the eye of Balar! You can speak?!” The warrior jumped in surprise. He began rummaging again, talking as he moved. “Look, I don’t know what that blue shit was on that ship over there, but if we’re going to survive, we need to get out of here. That ship is fast, too fast for this large one to outrun—Yes!” The large man pulled a hefty coil of rope out from a trunk beneath a bed. “Now we have just a few minutes before it clears straight through the rest of our fleet, so that’s just a few minutes to string together some kind of raft to hold us. We might be able to escape their sights in a smaller vessel. Now help me tie some crap together!”

“But sir, the odds of us being able to escape unharmed are like 20 to 1!” The jester added, clearly becoming more frightened by the second.

“Never tell me the odds. I was trained in the ways of war my entire life. I have no time for silly mathematics,” the warrior retorted stubbornly.

The jester did not respond to this, as logic clearly could not reach the abnormally large man at the moment, and so the small man knelt and began tying a few pieces of wood lying around together. After banding together a few pieces tightly, the cracking of another ship ripped through the air. The pair hurried their efforts, with their hands shaking from adrenaline.