Thread: Lucifer's Angel [ Fieryangel and Terucin ]

Sverdar Al'Verth, who had captained his own ship now for nearly half a decade, stood atop a small hill and watched the town below him burn as it was pillage and torn apart by his crew. He had to admit to himself, this was not his preferred method of garnering wealth and such. However, he had a large crew of near lawless men that he had to keep in line, and having them cooped up on a ship for months on end didn't lend itself very far to keeping order. He was far from having them following his every command like he might wish, not unlike a commander in an army should have utter control over his soldiers. So every so often he would find a promising town or coastal village such as this one, and unleashed his murderous horde upon the hapless victims. He had no emotional connection with those dying below him, or the moral implications of his actions. Should any one of them approach him and accuse him of his crimes, he wouldn't bat an eyelash and would simply shoot the person before moving on. He no longer had any emotional attachment to death or dying, besides momentary inconvenience if someone around him died now he had to find someone to replace them. Once he had emotional ties to death, but that had been so long ago that he hardly remembered it. His life was not one that lent itself towards empathy or even sympathy for others, either keep moving and do what was needed or get killed by those willing to continue. It wasn't to say that he didn't have emotions, he just rarely let them out or allowed them to alter his choices or perspective. He descended from the hill into the town. He needed to start rounding his men up so that they could ship out before they lost the tide. He didn't mean to stick around and get caught, or worsen his reputation beyond what it always was. True, he was a pirate captain and that came with an ill reputation of its own, but he didn't need to be actively hunted down because of recent actions. For now he would walk through the chaos and see what he could find, if anything. He wasn't worried that any of his men might confuse him for someone who needed killing. He stood at just above six feet and his skin had a naturally tanned tone to it that was very uncommon in this part of the world, both for this village and his men. He also wore a red overcoat over his dark clothes, which stood out amongst the fading light. His dark hair was worn loose, falling past his shoulders in gentle waves. Across one cheek was a scar from countless years ago when he was still young. His right arm was tied up in a sling, having been wounded by grapeshot from a recent scuffle against a rival pirate crew. He had won, of course, but it had cost him for some time. He had a good medic aboard his ship, so his life hadn't been in danger but is arm was out of commission for now. His bright silver eyes darted back and forth as he strode through the ruined town, the only sign of any reaction or emotion on his passionless face as he saw many killed or raped around him. He idly wondered where his next big payload might be from, and how to go about achieving it. As he walked, his foot came down a hair's breadth from a child's head, but he seemed to pay the fact no attention as he strode forth.