The Hunter's Moon Arising
First Day of the Ninth Month 292 AC
As his hands worked without thought at the knot work he had been assigned, the dark haired boy looked back on the last month's sailing with no small amount of satisfaction. Life on board the Hunter's Moon was far from the constant adventure and peril that that Theon had imagined a reaver's life to be as a boy, but from what he heard from more experienced hands it was far better than most other ships of her kind. For one, the captain had somehow managed to get her hands on one of the magic barrels for turning salt water fresh before the ship left port, so there was always fresh, clean water to drink. Besides that she had also managed to get one of the odd little tinker sprites to sign on as an assistant to the ship's carpenter. While the oddly named Ninth could not fix gaping holes in the side of the ship like "a proper wizard" he was a wonder for making repairs that should have only worked "just enough" be as tight as a merchant's purse.
The captain was a wonder to work for, with her wide-brimmed hat topped with the enormous colorful feather that had been plucked from some strange southern bird... and she liked to be reminded of it. You could not go far wrong praising the good captain, and from what old Donal said that was a vice shared by many purely mortal captains. What set captain Moonsong apart was that she did not let one shrink their duties or lord over their fellows for singing her praises. Doing so was merely her just tribute as far as she was concerned, and more often than not Theon found himself agreeing with her.
"Ship to port, ho! Ship to port!" Clem the lookout called down. Likely as not it had been the little golden fey flying through the rigging that had actually spotted it, but the wee thing did not have good lungs on it.
In these waters the chances of it being anything the captain would shy way from fighting were hardly worth mentioning. Honest sailors wouldn't be caught dead so near the Basilisk Isles... which was why they were here, of course. The crew of the Hunter's Moon were many things, but honest they were not. The boldness of having sailed a galley across hundreds of leagues of open water with naught but the stars for a guide was about to pay off.
***
The Hunter bore down on her prey like a hawk on a lame sparrow, eager hands working at the oars the wind from the northwest at their backs. Men clambered on deck, crowding behind one another to be the first into the fray and the first to the loot. For his part, Theon stayed about one step behind the great grey-furred minotaur Blood Roar. He had after all learned one lesson well: gold did dead man no good.
Three times the young Greyjoy shot into the rigging of the pirate enemy ship, each time picking a man off to fall to his death on the deck bellow, for he had a natural eye for marksmanship he found... but at the last the ships collided with an almighty crash and the time of knives was upon them. With a fey song ringing in his ears he surged surged onto the other ship.
Were Balon Greyjoy almost three years in his grave able to see the expression on his youngest son's face, he would have been proud.
OOC: It was a very risky move to take the Hunter's moon over that much open water, so much so that captains without supernatural charisma probably would not have managed to talk their crews into it.