The Clan of Outcasts [Season 3]

Part 1: "Always A Party"

The Harbor (West)

The Harbor teemed with life during the shipping season. With mild weather and favorable winds accompanying the tide, this was a period in The Realm when anything coming or going would reach its destination as quickly as possible.

The one downside of so much traffic in and out of the docks was the amount of unsavory characters washed ashore.

The desperate cry rang off the stone walls in the alleyway. "Help! Somebody help me!" cried the young woman as she ran.

Behind her, the inebriated, lean pirate closed the distance between them. "Aww, c'mon love," he slurred. "Giv's a liddle kiss!"

"No!" The girl dove down a side street, but saw nothing but a blank stone wall with only a few crates stacked against it. There was no way out. She whirled around, hands and eyes frantically searching for something, anything she could use in her defense. "Stay away from me!"

The pirate advanced closer, his eyes narrowing as his grin spread. He had only a few more hours before his ship weighed anchor—that was plenty of time to get a bit of action before setting sail again.

"Now, don't fight it, missy," he crooned around a crooked jaw and yellowed teeth. He was nearly within arm's reach now. "Just lay still and—"

"Leave now, and no one gets hurt."

The pirate froze at the sound of another voice. He grabbed the girl's wrist as he cast his gaze around the space, ignoring her slaps and the way she pulled and writhed to escape his grasp.

"There's no one 'ere," he muttered to himself. "Now, where were we—"

"Let. Her. GO."

The voice came more insistent, and this time, the pirate heard a footstep scrape the flagstones behind him. He whirled around, squinting hard.

"Awwright, who's there?" He growled. "Show yerself!"

"Very well," answered the voice, and in the space of a blink, the pirate found himself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes framed by white hair. In her hand she held a long knife... And the blade rested against his throat.

The white-haired woman held his gaze and repeated her command. "Let the girl go."

The pirate allowed the tender wrist to slip from between his fingers, and heard the girl's pitiful whimpers as she ran out of the alleyway and disappeared.

The knife withdrew, and the pirate took a deep and grateful breath. Then he scowled. "You shouldn't meddle in someone else's business," he grumbled, reaching for his own knife.

The white-haired woman wagged her head. "Get back to your ship," she said. "You have overstayed your welcome here—"

As she was speaking, the pirate spat, sending a wad of dirty saliva onto the woman's boot. He heard the crunch of footsteps outside the alley, and the voices of his shipmates.

"You ain't the law 'round these parts, wench!" He hollered. "I do what I please, and I leave when I likes!"

He moved to push past her—and his hands sunk right through her body, as if it were made of air. When the pirate regained his balance and finished staring at his hands, the woman was gone.

"Cor..." He mumbled under his breath. "She's one o' them!"

In another corner, behind some plants, three more pirates had a young man pinned against the wall. He struggled, but the two brawny pirates held him fast as the third advanced toward him with a sword.

"Well, lad, what's it going to be?" the third pirate demanded. "Are you going to show us how you did your little trick, or should we start chopping off fingers?"