The Anointed Prince of Dragons: Chapter 1.

It was a clear and starry night, with not a cloud in the sky. A gentle breeze swept over the upper deck of the Lancaster, a Schooner captained by Johnathon Warwick. He was tall and proud, with long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharp facial features, always wearing his long blue coat and black tricorn from his days serving in the Royal Navy.

The first mate on the Lancaster was an Irishman, Joshua O'Connor. He was about the same height as the captain, but far less fit. He was old and fat, with rugged facial features, graying red hair, and heavy stubble, never seen without his long gray vest. He had only one good eye, green in color, and the other's pupil and iris were white, with a scar over the area. He was an incompetent drunkard, but he was a loyal man, the Captain's best friend.

Then, there was the lookout, Mister Crowely. He was of average height and slender, with pale features, greasy dark hair, and a long hooked nose. His eyes were brown, and he had a partial goatee upon his face. He always wore a ragged, patched shirt. He was not a friendly man, by any means, in fact, he was a bit of a recluse.

Last but not least of the Captain's inner circle was the young cabin boy, Scotty MacLeod . He was a scrawny lad with a pale complexion, red hair, freckles in all the wrong places, and emerald eyes; a ginger. The Captain had first encountered him whilst the young boy was a street urchin, resorting to picking pockets for enough coin to buy food. Johnathon had taken pity on the young Scott and adopted him. Johnathon set his mind to raise the boy proper, even had him fitted for an outfit customary for the gentry, and saw to it that he wore his hair tied up by a black bow, in a pony-tail; a true gentleman was the boy, though only in appearance. The Captain was still trying to teach the boy proper manners; he had quite the foul mouth, and was very rude.

Now, where were we? Oh yes, it was a clear night indeed, and deafeningly quiet. That is, until Mister Crowely could be heard calling out, "Captain! There's a ship coming from the Southwest! Frigate, by the looks of it!" His voice was deep, low and cold. The Captain called out in turn, "Can you make out the colors?!" His own voice was deep and clear, like the voice one might imagine coming from a chivalrous Knight in shining armor. "Nay, I cannot. It's too dark, but they're picking up speed and heading straight for us!" Crowely said, a hint of fear in his voice. Before anyone else could say another word, the tell-tale sound of cannon fire could be heard, and it went right through one of the sails. Everyone knew what this meant. The ship was now the prey of some of the most vicious predators on the high seas; pirates. "Man the cannons!" The captain cried out, and men scrambled to obey his orders.

Another shot was fired from the frigate's chase gun. It hit the mast atop which the crows nest was, and it snapped in two. The top half fell into the sea, and Crowely with it, screaming on his way before he hit the water. He might have survived, if not for a rope which had wrapped around his leg. If that were not enough, the young Scotty noticed him suddenly scream again; a sound of terrible pain, as he was then pulled under, likely by a shark.

The Captain suddenly put a hand upon Scotty's shoulder and turned him to face himself. "Scotty, the upper deck is not safe for you now. Get below deck, and hide in the hold." He ordered the young lad, to which the boy protested. "But I can't just hide while the rest of you fight! I'm not a bloody coward!" He replied in a high voice, with a cockney accent. The Captain, however, would hear none of it. "Joshua!" He called out, and the First Mate soon appeared at his side. "Escort young Scotty to the hold and lock him inside. That'll be the safest place for him. He can easily hide in one of the barrels." Joshua nodded his head. "Aye, Captain!" He said in his high, clear voice, before grabbing young Scotty's arm and following his Captain's command, even as the young boy protested. "Let go of me! I can fight, I can fight!" He screamed, throwing a temper tantrum, but to no avail. He soon found himself locked in the cold, dark hold, with nothing but the cargo to keep him company. Amongst the cargo were many goods, but the thing that stuck out the most was a large black coffin, set upright in the darkest and most dank corner of the room. Scotty growled in frustration, and kicked a nearby apple that had rolled out of one of the barrels. He did detested the thought of hiding in the hold, whilst his friends, nay his family were on the upper deck, risking their lives to fight back against the pirates attacking their ship.

Meanwhile, it soon became clear to Captain Warwick, First Mate Joshua, and the rest of the crew just who it was attacking their ship. Johnathon had taken out his own spyglass, and that is when he spotted him. Upon the upper deck of the bow, standing with his cutlass like it was a cane, was one of the most feared pirates of the time; Captain Barabas Blackheart. Blackheart had terrorized the North Atlantic for nigh decade, now, and was well known for slaughtering entire crews, save one survivor whom he would spare to tell of his most heinous deeds. He had harsh, rugged facial features, a long fiery red beard that was styled so that each tip curved upward like dancing flames, and he would scorch the ends so that smoke proceeded from them, giving him a visage like the devil himself, fitting considering his ship was called the Devil's Maw. He always wore a coat of the deepest red, which some said was dyed with the blood of the Captain from the first ship ever to be victimized by himself and his crew. Knowing how evil this man was, if one could even call him a man, it was likely true.

As the Devil's Maw neared, Blackheart could be heard calling out, "Give them no quarter!" His voice was deep, harsh and loud. It struck fear into the hearts of every man on board the Lancaster, save for Johnathon Warwick, who was not faint of heart. His years of service in the Royal Navy had hardened him. "You heard him, men! Let's return the favor!" Captain Warwick called out, confident in his crewmen even against such overwhelming odds. "You can either die like cowardly dogs, or you can die fighting like wolves!" He suggested, giving off an aura of charisma which inspired the crew and led them to begin. They fired back. One cannon went right past Blackheart's head and hit one of his sails, yet he did not even flinch. Instead, he simply scoffed and spit to the side. The ships were soon side by side, and broadsides were soon unleashed, each upon the other. Unfortunately for the Lancaster, however, the Devil's Maw had more powerful cannons, and more of them as well.

Scotty found himself stumbling as the ship was pummeled with cannon after cannon. "Bloody Hell!" He exclaimed, riled up by being so shaken. "Damn it all, the Captain is up there fighting and I'm stuck in here!" He threw his arms up and sighed, then his arms and countenance fell. He soon found his gaze on the coffin and scoffed. "And if that wasn't enough, I'm stuck in here with a bloody corpse." he said, just before he heard it. Some sort of sound, ever so faint, was coming from the coffin, the sound of whispers. "What the?" he inquired, nearing the coffin ever so slowly. A deep, low and rough voice was chanting. He did not understand the words. "Who's in there?" Scotty demanded to know, but the voice did not stop its chanting. Very soon, he heard thunder crackle in the distance.

The sound of cannon fire and swords clashing filled the air, as well as shots from pistols and muskets. The crew of the Lancaster were fighting for their lives, and poor Joshua had just been shot in the head by Blackheart's pistol. He fell forward, dead, and Captain Warwick set his gaze upon Blackheart, wroth at the death of his friend. He charged him, cutting down pirate after pirate on his way, before he found himself blade to blade with the infamous Barabas Blackheart. "You seem angry. Was that fat waste of a sailor your friend?" Barabas inquired of Johnathon, as their blades clashed, stirring even more anger in the Lancaster's captain. Still, the pirate taunted him. "He'll make a fine feast for the sharks, though there's not much but fat on him!" He laughed wickedly, and Johnathon yelled out in anger. "Shut up, you fiend!" Noone noticed the sound of the thunder in the distance, until lightning suddenly struck the middle mast of the Devil's Maw. Rain soon fell, pummeling both ships as they battled each other. The storm had come as though from out of nowhere, and fog had soon hindered the sight of both sides in the conflict. Lightning continued to strike all around, hitting both decks and electrocuting crewmen from both ships. Both crews realized this storm was unnatural, simply by how focused it was upon the ships, and how suddenly it had formed.

After some time, the whispers from the coffin had stopped and Scotty demanded to know once more, "Who's there?" no answer came to his question, but there was indeed a response. "Unlatch the coffin, so that I may deal with the attackers." The voice was so cold and void of emotion. "Why would I do that? Who are you?" Scotty asked, once more, to which the voice replied again, "Release me, if you want your friends to live." At those words, Scotty was taken aback. Could this man, if he was a man, truly help? After a few moments of thought, he moved to do what he was told.

Meanwhile, the crews of both ships were dwindling, the Lancaster's moreso. "Can you not take on a mere Schooner without the aid of witchcraft?" Johnathon Warwick demanded to know. Barabas Blackheart scoffed before answering, "You think I am behind this? Nay, but is this not a battle for the ages?" He laughed, before the two Captains' blades suddenly locked together. "You're a fine swordsman, and I sense you're an honorable man. Honor won't give you victory." Blackheart said to Warwick before smirking. There was a sound of gunfire, and Johnathon suddenly went wide-eyed and looked down to his chest. Blackheart had shot him in the chest while their blades were locked. "You bastard!" Warwick exclaimed before stumbling back. His eyes rolled back, and he fell to his knees, then forward further. He lay upon his belly, dying if not already dead from Blackheart's fatal shot.

It was at this time that something came from out of the lower decks, quick as a shadow, it began eviscerating everyone on the ship, indiscriminately. Scotty was soon on deck as well, and he watched in horror as this shadow was slaughtering the pirates, as well as his men. Blackheart looked on with narrowed eyes, "What is this devilry?" He called out, watching the men die one by one, until he and Scotty were the only ones alive.

The shadow had finally come to a stop before the Captain of the Devil's Maw, revealing himself to be a man. He was clad in black from head to toe, wearing noble finery. His hair was long and as black as a raven's feathers, flowing elegantly in the wind. His face was pale, like a dead man's, and he had reddish circles under his eyes, which were like crimson flame. His facial features were strikingly handsome; narrow and chiseled, with stubble and a triangular soul patch pointing upwards, at his lips, and his ears were long, pointed, and curved somewhat downwards like a devil.

Scotty watched in awe, noticing that the mysterious man's feet did not touch the ground, but he was levitating in midair with his arms crossed, staring coldly at the pirate before him. "So, this is the infamous Barabas Blackheart." the man said, in that cold and emotionless voice, before adding, "I am unimpressed." to which Blackheart's eyes went wide as he was taken aback, then he snarled with anger and aimed his pistol at the man, firing. The shot hit him in the chest, but he seemed unphased, not even flinching, though black blood was clearly flowing from the wound. He simply raised his brow and smirked before saying, "That almost stung." It was then that the fingers of his right hand came together, and he chopped through the air towards the pirate. Barabas Blackheart gasped and stumbled back as his throat was slit, as if by some unseen blade. "Don't worry, with your…" the man paused to chuckle before continuing, "Black heart, I will surely be able to summon your soul from the depths of Hell to be reanimated." Without another word, the man reached out his palm open towards the pirate, and his blood seemed to boil before the man opened his mouth, revealing sharp fangs, and his hand turned toward himself, gesturing towards his mouth in a beckoning manner. The blood from Blackheart soon came from his wound like a funnel, straight into the mouth of this strange man, until the former was left a dried husk, exsanguinated, and lying on the ground dead.

This dark and monstrous man wiped his lips gracefully with two fingers, then turned his head to look upon the boy, Scotty. "You've had quite the excitement, haven't you? Such beautiful bloodshed, indeed, but forgive me, I should introduce myself. I am Vladimir von Drachen." Scotty looked on in fear and awe. There was a lump in his throat, then he swallowed the dread before saying, "I'm Scotty MacLeod." It was all he could manage. "Scotty MacLeod." The man repeated the boy's name, as though to commit it to memory, before saying simply, "You are now in my service."