ShaKiro

The eastern seas of Sornieth, from the Shifting Expense to the Viridian Labyrinth, were once ruled by a crew of tyrannical pirates, ridgid and oppressive. Rules were harsh and many clans on the coasts were sucked clean of materials, food, and money. Pirates were often stationed at these clans, cycling in and out to go out on the seas again. Pirates were put there to prevent any dissertation of towns, but often only celebrated through the nights, drinking what little rum the clans had and demanding for quantities of lavish items. In fear for their lives, the clans did what they could to please the pirates.

Once a decade had past, clans grew accustomed to their life. By this time, there was one large crew on the southern side of Sornieth that was feared across the clans and worshipped almost like gods. The Executioner was a large ship of towering, dark, wood, smooth with age and years across the water. It’s sails were made from the finest clothes and kept in pristine condition. A figurehead of a towering griffin was carved from the richest wood found in the deepest part of the forest in the Viridian Labyrinth, and it’s captain a dragon who was built solely on fear and power.

ShaKiro kept the seas in an iron grip. She was a fierce, unbridled spirit who wasn’t help down by morality. Her name would strike fear into the clan’s hearts and left them in terror and paranoia. Captain Kit’s rule was whispered to be ‘eternal,’ neverending. Clans truly believed she would never die and that they would never be free.

Then, disaster struck. The oceans bellowed and the sky lit up with the rage of Stormcatcher himself. And, just like that, an empire of horror disappeared under a wave, silent, and overnight. The entirety of The Executioner was wiped off the map. Pirates stationed at clans had no backup to call, and at the sign that the pirates at sea would not come back, clans rose up against them and the pirates fled.

Somewhere, somehow, with Lightweaver’s blessings, a lone Wildclaw washed up on a secluded beach along the Sunbeam Ruins, sheltered by ancient trees and towering cliffs.

ShaKiro’s eyes slid open, talons curling around something that was far too soft and malleable to be the deck of The Executioner. Her ears were ringing and her entire body felt heavy and sodden. Kit’s snout was stiff and crusted with what she assumed was blood, and her wings and hind leg still felt suspiciously wet with blood.

ShaKiro closed her eyes, letting out a groan of frustration. Why wasn’t she dead? She’d far rather prefer to be dead than stuck here, wherever this place was with a broken leg and wing. Her tail, which would usually thrash, only flopped weakly against the sand underneath her.
As she became more aware of her surroundings, ShaKiro could feel the familiar lapping of waves at her spine and the feeling of warm sunlight dappling her ribs.

With a strained grunt, ShaKiro made use of her good wing and legs to lift herself off the ground. She balanced precariously on one hind leg and reopened her eyes to take in the world around her.
She recognized the steep cliffs around her as Light Territory. Kit tried to decipher where she was exactly, but the trees sheltering the spot and the cliff leaning over the edge made her realize the beach couldn’t be spotted by flying or by ship, and had possibly never been mapped before.
The sand where she had lay was stained in crimson and indented in her form. Kit could feel the small grains across her body and she desperately wanted to shake them off, only to remind herself that she’d probably lose balance if she did so.

Her head panging, the Wildclaw took a few limps forward. If she was going to live, she had to get out. She didn’t want to die here. At least life could have let her die with her crewmates. Kit sniffed bitterly.

As she walked, the whole world spun and turned upside down and she felt as if thousands were screaming into her ears at once. She couldn’t tell right from left or up from down anymore, and Kit’s arms felt like noodles.

Blood loss. She realized, a bit too late as she suddenly found herself on the beach again, warm sand pressed against her broken wing, which had been crushed again under her body weight. ShaKiro pressed her eyes closed, trying to soothe the pain in her head. So much for not dying here. What an awful life she had led, she decided. Kit would have laughed at herself thinking about her life choices now of all times, but she was too delirious to care. Kit wondered if Lightweaver was good with second chances. Or maybe this was her second chance, and she had already failed.

Thanks for nothing, the Wildclaw willed with all her might for her sour words to smack Lightweaver straight in her glittery, pompous snout, then promptly passed out.

A Wildclaw dressed in a ragged cloak stood over the body of another, one whom was breathing shallowly. Angelica recognized her as the captain of The Executioner, the feared ShaKiro. Angelica chuckled under her breath, brushing her claws across the other's forehead, which was sticky from sweat and burning from fever.
Angelica considered; she could leave this tyrant who terrorized clans for almost a decade to die here, or she could let her live. She looked up the trees, which rustled faintly in the wind and made light dance across the sand, and waited for a sign.