The waves of the Alforican Sea lapped against the hull of a mostly wooden sailing ship as it cruised across the water, its destination just a few nautical miles beyond the edge of the limits of human sight. This ship bore no identifying marks at all, and this was far from commonplace among the ships that belonged to any of the myriad merchant groups that sailed for the Sultanate. Unlike other ships of its type which would carry flags and a decal that would deter pirates from coming to close, this ship had literally nothing that would separate it from a bog-standard fresh off the market merchant barge. There were no flags showing which company it belonged to, no decal showing its importance to the Sultanate and not even a glimmer of precious metal could be seen adorning the craft. In a sea filled with ships that had all of these things and more, this ship was an oddity at best and potential danger at worst.

Still, its utter lack of identification made it a prime target for pirates. It was, to such people, almost a certainty that this vessel they set their plunder-hungry gaze upon was the property of some no-name startup of a company. For its ship to have no markings meant that it had no backup and no one to come after the pirates if they took what they wanted. Best of all, this ship was alone. Yes, they were within distance for the Sultanate’s Navy to potentially help them, but what were the odds of that?

As the sea-wolves stalked their prey, they had no idea that the roles were actually reversed. If they had half a bit of common sense, they would have been far more inclined to believe that the ship they were hunting was not something they could handle. Why, you ask? Because the ship was crewed by men whose loyalties lay not with the Sultanate or some merchant company, but with powers far more ancient and terrible (and at least one that was incredibly young) than they could hope to deal with. Aboard this one vessel that carved its way through the water was a single Arch Mage, or rather, Arch Necromancer, and these pirates were about to learn why you don’t interfere with that person’s study without being powerful enough to keep her from lashing out in irritation.

…

“Drop anchor here.” Alistaira Crowley ordered. The crew initially gave her confused looks, as they were nowhere near their intended destination, but these gazes quickly turned when they looked out across the waters and saw a handful of small but fast ships in the distance. They immediately understood what Alistaira was up to and did as she commanded. The ship’s anchor dropped into the water and sank until it hit the bottom of the sea.

As if on cue, the smaller ships came closer and began to hoist the black flag, but this was not met with the response that they had expected. Cheers began to erupt from the ‘merchant’ ship as Darksol’s sailors prepped themselves for a decent fight. So long as no one set the ship on fire, they were more than willing to throw down. In the last major war, they had been denied so much action and as a result they were practically begging for a chance to show what they could do. Now, these lucky men would get that chance, or at least they would if Alistaira didn’t blow all the pirates to kingdom come before they got a piece of the action.

The confused pirates got close enough and tossed their boarding lines over and, to their surprise, the ‘merchant’ ship did the same to them. With the ‘merchant’ ship now boxed in on all sides, the pirates tried to climb aboard, but…

“Last one into battle is a landlubber!”

Darksol’s sailors beat the pirates to the punch and leapt off of their bigger, more durable ship and onto the smaller pirate crafts. Even before the sailors landed, they had already cut down a handful of pirates with cutlass and pistol, sending bodies falling from the sides of their ship and into the brine below. This seeming lack of self-preservation astounded and shocked the pirates, but they quickly realized that they were not in for the fight they had thought that they would find themselves in.

The Darksol sailors effectively danced around the pirates, their superior arms and enchanted clothing aiding them just as much as their own ability. By the time that the second minute had passed since the fighting had begun, seven of the ten pirate ships had been captured and the other three were bidding a hasty retreat. Their survival was not in the cards, however, as Alistaira stood upon the crow’s nest and lobbed a few decent [Fireball] spells at them as they fled. The orbs were large but slow, a side effect of Alistaira being on the swaying ‘ground’ and the limits of her mortal body. If she had flung smaller, more numerous [Fireball]s, then the orbs of flaming death would have flown faster but would have been even less accurate.

If she gave up her humanity, she would not have had to worry, but Alistaira was Alistaira and she refused to bend the knee to the limits of her mortal form until there was no other option. As the miniature comets flew across the winds at a speed not too much different to a human runner, the pirate ships attempted to dodge and weave. This too was to no avail, as Alistaira was no mere average court mage whose spells could not track their targets; no, she was a genius among geniuses and she had long since learned from both Kain and Alexis the art of fire-and-forget target-seeking magic, something that any mage would kill to learn.

As the ships slid further and further away from the fireballs, the pirates aboard breathed a sigh of relief. They figured that now that they were a decent distance away that the burning balls would fade away. With this belief, they retreated further out to sea, unaware that their doom was still creeping ever closer.

…

As the night descended upon those pirate vessels, the exhausted crew began to tuck in for the night. They had anchored off the coast of a small island well outside of any national territory, so they could catch some sleep and wake refreshed to think of how to recoup their losses. They slept soundly, never noticing the [Fireball]s that circled around the island at a speed akin to Usain Bolt’s fastest sprint until they collided with their homes and either incinerating the pirates or stranding them upon a rock that had neither fresh water nor ready access to food. The survivors watched as their only real hope burned and sank beneath the waves, and even then, they did not know the dark fate that awaited them.

Without food and fresh water, there was only one source of sustenance on the island, and it was unclear if they would willingly stoop to such sin. However, desperation makes monsters of men, and as archeologists would find in that place over a century later, not even sworn brothers of the sea are immune to the maddening power of hunger and thirst.