[Nogrod]

In the darkest hour of the Night, four creatures could be seen crawling the deck as if the ship belonged to them. Triumphantly, they gazed at the black sea stretching out in each direction. Their prey would never escape.

Only Nogrod was still standing at the wheel, muttering to himself. He had tried - in vain - to get the ship back on its original course. While he was trying to judge their current position by the stars, he had to conclude that they had indeed travelled far in one day. It seemed indeed to be further than he had ever travelled. Nogrod was puzzled. None of the constellations looked familiar.

Suddenly, he was disturbed by a noise coming from behind. He turned around, expecting to see Cailín coming to apologise, when he felt a knife piercing his back. Or was it a knife? With semi-conscious eyes, Nogrod took in the shape of four miscreants: hideously large, hairy creatures, part wolf and part man. As the larger one approached with his teeth bared, the brave sailor could not help but faint.

In the morning, Cailín woke up from a dreamless sleep. She blinked a few times to get used to the bright light of a day at sea. As she stretched out, she felt something strange and squishy at the end of her bed. She let out a soft cry. Sitting up in annoyance, she gazed at the thing that had caused her discomfort. Except it was not a thing. It was a mangled corpse, still bearing the marks of the sailor she had known so briefly, though hideously disfigured. His mouth was still open in shock and from the remains of his tongue dangled a crumpled piece of paper with a short note.

The real captain. He was delicious. You'll be next.

In spite of herself, Cailín screamed.


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Her scream woke the other passengers with a start. Some of the more alert ones immediately rushed to the Captain's cabin. They quickly took in the scene, several crying in dismay at the sight of the mangled body of the person they had really trusted to take them home safely.

"Oh dear," said Firefoot.

"Look!" yelled Cailín. "Look at the marks, the hairs! We have werewolves aboard, there can be no other explanation!"

The other passengers exchanged fleeting looks.

"Well," said Taliesin eventually. "I can think of one other…" He grinned, never letting his eyes of Captain Cailín.

"He is right," said Findeasea softly. "We overheard them fighting. She must have been afraid Nogrod would undermine her authority."

Slowly, the passengers closed in on her.

"What…," whimpered Cailín, starting to comprehend.

"You tricked us aboard!" screamed Lhunardawen suddenly. "You tricked us and now we are all going to die!"

"I didn't…," Cailín interrupted her indignantly.

"You lured us aboard with false motives and empty promises," cut in Lalaith. "Can you deny it?"

"Not completely false and empty," protested Cailín.

"There is no cheese on this ship!" cried Rune hysterically. "No cheese!"

"She's mad," claimed Caranlondien. "You saw how she acted last night."

"Besides, there is something basically wrong with the entire concept of having a 'Captain'," stated Friedrich Engels wisely.

"She is a wolf. Don't ask me, I can just tell," said Eomer of the Rohirrim with his usual air of casual superiority.

"Well, dear," said Gurthang. "Seems like you are going to walk the plank!"

Dragging Cailín along, the passengers left the cabin and stepped out on the deck. The young woman was hardly putting up a fight, just looking thoroughly annoyed and extremely sorry for herself. Sir Anguirel hoisted her up the plank and there she stood, gazing at the crowd.

"She's one too many on this ship," said Gurthang, approaching the Captain menacingly. "Any final words?"

"But…," Cailín said with her lip trembling. "But it's my birthday!"

"Oh, who cares!" came in Formendacil.

With one final, decisive shove, Cailín tumbled into the water. After splashing around for a few moments, the passengers saw her submerge. They waited patiently, staring at the calm sea below them. Two full minutes passed before the body of the once captain Cailín surfaced again, eyes still wide open. staring helplessly at the unknown sky. She had not transformed and all secrets she may have had drowned with her, then and there.

"Maybe it wasn't really her," said Holbytlass, after all had been silent for a while.

"Quite possibly," agreed Sir Horatio, glaring at his fellow passengers suspiciously.

"But that means," continued Holbytlass, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "That means that among us…"

Several others nodded in agreement.

"Told you it was a bad plan," said Mormegil triumphantly. "Now what do we do? We're lost and we have no captain."

"Someone must keep the log," said Durelin. "It's the sensible thing to do."

"I can be captain!" spoke Dread Pirate Roberta. "Aye, and a bloody good one, too."

"Aye," imitated Weslamond.

"To hell you can be captain!" yelled Firefoot. "You probably are responsible for this in the first place."

And thus, accusations began flying.