Branwen Council Prologue (revised)

         Waves of dismal ocean cradled a galley of pine and bone, rolling it over crests. It was here amidst this black ocean where tragedy once struck.

         Furious storms overshadowed the vessel forming a drapery of mist, blanketing vision. Shouts traveled through giving orders, “Use yer deadlights, Lookout”.
         “Aye!” A man remained standing, peering through a spyglass slowly across the main. Firmly he held position in the crow’s nest catching a glimpse of something through the rain and mist. “Sail, starboard bow ahoy!”
         A Captain of great stature approached the bow glimpsing through another spyglass at the oncoming ship. “The chase is making full sail. She’s of Elven blood. Sound the bell!”
         Warnings from the bell sounded throughout the craft raising tension from the first to the last of the crew. Members prepared themselves for battle by acquiring weapons from stacks placed strategically aboard the deck.
         “Man your stations!” The Captain armed himself with a cutlass and looked through his spyglass once more. Instantly fear washed over his face, “Take cover! Down! All hands down!”
         Two thunderous blasts from afar sounded as the men dropped to the deck for safety. The galley shook with such force, barrels were strung out across the platform as men were sliding over wet planks groaning and shouting from injuries and fatalities.
         “Damage report!” The Captain called out.
         “Holding steady, two dead, four injured!” A call came back.
         “Straight at them! Bring her in close!” As ordered, the men rowed the vessel forward toward the Elven ship. “Stand fast!”
         “Hold your positions!”
         “Hold steady!” The galley steadily drifted alongside the opposition. “Fire!”
         Blasts erupted from the craft blustering holes into the opponent’s hull sending bodies into the depths of the ocean. Horrendous screams came from a woman below deck raising a guileful grin across the Captain’s face.
         “Lolindir, take lead!” The Captain stepped cautiously over the bodies of his men and lowered into the hull below. Through his eyes he could see their captive in chains, huddled over in a corner. She whimpered at his approach. “Tell me. Where is your great council now?” His hand caressed her cheek gently. “Death’s hand shall come and take away those He sees fit. This day He shall spare you ...” The Captain kneeled down and silently whispered into her ear, “For thou art the creator of everlasting victory”.
         He took in a deep breath of the stale death ridden air, forcefully grabbing her hair making her scream in pain. He laughed and relished in his actions while he parted her legs and mounted her.
         A hush overcame the deck of the galley, its entire dark crew slain. Whispers in elven tongue danced about in the air and a loud thud from a crossing plank dropped onto the galley’s deck. “Search for the captain...” Elvish men crossed the plank, boarding the craft. Heavy bodies were plummeted into the freezing waters, one after another, as groups searched through the vicinity. “Any sign of our lady?”
         All looked lost giving negative responses.
         “Sir, I hear something down hither.” One of the elves pulled up a lantern and lowered into the sinking body of the vessel.
         Whimpers and groans echoed in the emptiness followed by a gratified laugh. The Captain stood from his victim and turned to meet with a sword through his stomach. He dropped to his knees grasping at the blood covered blade, looked into the eyes of his releaser, and fell to his demise.