The ship has little time.

You and the other sailors scramble as cannonades burst outside, as men shout and scream. You reach the base of the ladder first. Above, a face fills the square of twilight. The first mate. “Arms!” he cries. “To arms–” Another boom rattles the topdecks, and wood shrieks with the cries of men suffering its splinters. As he gazes down at you, the first mate’s face becomes strangely gentle, and a thin red spiderweb skitters across his face. Then he tumbles through the opening.

You swing to the side, avoiding the plummeting corpse.

“We are lost!” the sailors cry.

No. No. NO.

You snap at them to live rather than die, and to arm themselves with what steel they can find. They fall-to, obedient side characters they are. Like galley-slaves, all they ever need is a voice come from darkness, commanding. As you press back up the ladder, with each step you feel the ship’s fading heart, like a whale struck through, heaving lifeblood, a rotten manuscript attacked by a zealous editor.

Topdecks, you see that another ship has come broadsides, sailing a flag of astral constellation. Your fellow sailors run about madly, faces streaked with smoke and blood, limping on shattered limbs. The Captain is nowhere to be seen.

At the stern, the strange cargohold is unguarded.

A horn sounds from the other ship. A commanding figure stands there holding a rope. Staring straight at you. The figure’s garb is feminine, red dress, and though the figure’s beard is thick and black, a wig of flowing blond rests atop their head.

The sailors you’ve rallied swarm behind you in angry mass, raising kitchen knives and ladles, pots and pans, a dagger here, a cutlass there. The giraffe shakes a rusted iron skillet over his head. You cry to them all to steady their nerves, to fight for the blood in their veins, for that is what the enemy wants to pull from them, down to the last drop.

All the while the strangely attired man opposite, holding the rope, watches you with something akin to curiosity. And now with his left hand he points a slender dagger at you

and runs leaping across the abyss.

Do you feel sympathy for the doomed souls and join their fray?

If you aren’t quite in the mood to get bludgeoned to death, go check out the cargohold.