[u]Joanna Vipera[/u] --- [hider=Ameno - Era][youtube]mmzXkM_RI1Y[/youtube][/hider] --- Six men. She remembered it very clearly, having been there. She had been trekking through Morocco when it happened, specifically walking along the beach. She was searching for shells and sharks teeth at the time. A harmless activity, that required minimal effort. Something to pass the time. Her allies, or dare she call them, friends, were busy doing labor for their families. Subsistence agriculture mainly, as to make the best of the unfavorable climate for farming. She learned very fast in her visit that one couldn't rely on the sea all the time. Chance was a beautiful, and terrible thing. There were times where a fisherman would bring home a bounty, and those when they wouldn't get a bite. It was a tough life. She, in a way, pitied them. These humans she had met through her travels were a diverse crowd. Many different faces, many personalities, many different backgrounds. She had been lucky herself, and had found the charitable who aided her on her travels. But like the fisherman, her luck was a double edged sword. She held the appearance at the time of a young moroccan woman then, and to the men, she was an easy target. Six men, that was how many it took to catch and subdue her. She remembered them yelling at each other in an angry fashion, frustrated and confused and annoyed that a young girl like herself had eluded them for so long. Once again though, her luck was in short supply, and the men caught up to her. She was excellent at defending herself, but there were too many to face at once. She was outnumbered and out muscled. She couldn't let them take her staff away, or it would doom her. She had been told that by the elders so many times, it was branded into her mind that should she let her full appearance come to light in a dire situation, it could very well mark your end. She anticipated being caught at this point, and kept a firm hold of her weapon, displaying a strength that no one of the men could out muscle. Her determination to survive driving her fingers to pry against their pulls more than they could muster. In the end they let her keep her staff, using it as a pole to tie her against and carried her away on it. They nearly threw her in with the other slaves, but, when they finally joined together, and ripper her staff from her grasp... They set her apart. They were African mercenaries that had been hired by the royalty to abduct slaves for the triangular trade. They had no idea what she was, or how she was possible. She remembered throwing many men overboard and attempting to escape before she had been stabbed through the tail, which held her in place. She had been dragged, thrashing and screaming and thrown into this metal cage where she struggled against the bars for several days before giving up on them and beginning to develop a different escape route. Her wound had since healed, her ability to bounce back at this age was in it's prime. For elders, they might have much more trouble, but like humans she was in her glory days physically. She would continue to grow and gain for another hundred years or so before she began to decline. The Naga she had grown up with had all displayed this pattern. Her green eyes cast an ominous glow in the darkness of the brig, where she resided in her cage, waiting patiently for opportunity to arise, if one would even come. Her tongue flicked through the air, tasking the wood and the salt and the sweat and fecal matter of the slaves only a room away or so. In a way she envied them. They had each other in this. She felt exposed and naked and afraid and alone being forced into this form. Her staff was god knows where and the only clothing they allowed her to keep were her breast bindings when they realized they couldn't beat or rape her into submission. She took a deep breath, and crossed her arms under her breast and listened to the silence and felt the gentle rocking of the boat. She knew she'd be sick when she returned to shore by now. Her eyes shot open wide, and she retracted back into herself, all the way to the furthest corner of a the cage she was imprisoned in when she heard a squeaking noise, and as the light entered her room she knew she had a visitor. One of those fat, snaggletoothed, scurvy ridden and smelly sailors had come down for something. Whether it was to deliver food or to simply stare at her. She often had both. "Here's your food, snake." the man said in his language, which she had come to understand, walking next to the cage and throwing a raw, probably few day old and unprepared fish into her cage. "Eat up. It's good for you." he said, turning around and taking a few steps away, before turning around again and looking at her. She retracted into herself even more now, trying to get away from this man's awful gaze. The man seemed to enjoy her fear. "Ya know, if you weren't half snake you'd be a nice lay." he said, crossing his arms across his chest. " 'Tempted to give you the staff back and see what happens." he mumbled, turning around and going back up to the top deck. She relaxed a little as he left, her long forked tongue flicking out again and wincing at the stench of half rotten fish. This was lower than her. She had seen many horrors in her time, but nothing like this. This was hell. With her clawed fingers she sliced open the fish's belly, and allowed it's entrails to leak out onto the floor. She crept backwards, and grew still. Hoping to attract mice or rats using the fish's corpse and catch some fresher, more appetizing food. Something her species's forefathers and reptilian relatives ate on a regular basis. She was a fisherman now. She hoped she would have luck on her side in her quarry.