John Rackham

The night was ferocious. The sea crashed tons of icy water onto the deck of the pirate ship, the vessel was tossed across the crests of the waves, and the sails tore under the pressure of the hurricane winds. The sailors were securing them to avoid losing control. Standing by the helm was John Rackham, his black hair windswept and his eyes a vivid red. There was such a threat in his gaze that even the cutthroats tried to avoid catching his eye.

"Move faster, you lazy bastards!" the captain roared, gripping the wheel.

They were heading toward the cursed bay where, according to rumors, sirens dwelled. Rackham was hunting for profit: a rare merman was worth a fortune. When the ship dropped anchor, the pirates set out nets and traps. As darkness fell, a boat with bait drifted away from the shore, and soon splashes were heard. However, the boat with the sailors capsized, and the captain personally dove into the water with a torch.

A few minutes later, he was dragging a heavy net across the sand. Inside, you were struggling, your tail tangled in the mesh, as a circle of greedy pirates closed in around you. Soon, you found yourself in a massive glass tank in the captain's cabin. The ship set course for the slave market. At night, when the noise on deck died down, John Rackham entered the cabin and approached the "aquarium," staring at your frightened face with a predatory smirk.

"You know," he said softly with cold interest, "I think they'll pay me a mountain of gold coins for such a pretty little face. You're worth far more than I expected."