Rohaan heard the crack of gunshots that were now clearly aimed for him, though he was careful to stay out of their range. He burned with anger. How DARE they! They had hurt him twice now, and they deserved to die. Die slowly by his hands, or rather, his teeth. They did not deserve the quick death of severing, but drowning, burning, and being eaten alive. He would show them fear. He would show them fear like they had never felt before, and he vowed that they dared shed his blood again, it would burn them like acid in the end. He'd make sure of it. 

Enraged but still remembering he was alone and outnumbered and that Berlin had instructed him not to fully engage, Rohaan sent a ball of fire streaming down towards the galley. It fizzled out some twenty feet over the sailor's heads, but that was enough for now. They just needed a reminder of what he was. What he could do. Muskets be damned, he'd have them by the end of the night. Somehow that didn't feel like enough though, so on an impulse and out of sheer spite, the dragon changed into a small bird in the blink of an eye, and as a much smaller target Rohaan swooped down in an irregular pattern towards the galley and swept past them as fast as his wings would take him. But as he did, his talons snatched one of the sailors' hats off his head. And in the space of a breath he was shooting back up into the sky towards the large dragon, now in his cyradan form. The hat was a nasty thing and he would likely burn it later, but for the moment it was his prize and it was also a metaphorical middle finger. 

The dragon was a matter that confused him entirely, though. It smelled like death, and looked like it too. The part that stuck with him the most were the arms. Human arms that stuck out from the side of the thing like....like....he didn't know what. It would be of particular interest to Berlin, so he made sure to really take a good look at them even though something in him wanted to look away. It made him uncomfortable, the whole picture. And if he wasn't so fired up by the slavers below, he might have just done a quick flyby and returned to the Borealis. But he was feeling bold and determined and he would not be cowed so easily.

He was keenly aware of the dragon rider who leapt up at his approach and trained a gun on him, though the fact they did not fire gave him pause. He was in range and he was not a small target. Though he was small for a dragon, he was still a dragon. The rider could have shot at him. But they appeared to be waiting for something? That was his guess. Probably reading his intentions as much as he was reading theirs. Berlin would not have approved of his next thought, but Berlin wasn't here. 

Following the dragon up higher into the sky, Rohaan kept his eyes on the rider with the gun. He roared at them once, a quick call, not a drawn out howl of battle and rage. The shifter took advantage of his superior speed and maneuverability to surge back up above the dragon, except this time instead of circling around or diving back down, the svelte black shape angled back a bit and with steady wingbeats he hovered just above the larger dragon's back, near the aft. And then, his form shifting into a man, he dropped and landed. 

He did not revert to his natural state of a (now clean) pirate child of ten, but an older version of himself. He appeared to be about twenty now, with a very short but rather full beard the same blonde as his unevenly curly hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail like Berlin's. He was tall, fit, but had a distinctly 'travel stained' look about him. Calloused, worn, weathered, and hale. He called out in a voice that was both his and not his. It still had an accent that in these parts was unidentifiable, but it was a man's voice, not a boy's. 

"That ship down there will burn tonight. What do you want with it? And who are you?"

---

Berlin still anxiously watched the horizon through his glass. There wasn't much he could do that far out--both Pieter and Wheel relied on being close by to attack, Berlin's greatest power was through touch, and Uban, who was still too far away to do anything, was open-mouthed snoring below deck. Hana was likely the only one who could do anything if something went horribly wrong out there, but he didn't know the range of her abilities either. So he watched. 

The black shape swirled around the larger pale one, flitting in and out like an angry sparrow pecking away at an eagle. But then the black dragon hovered momentarily above the thing and was still, and then it was gone.  Berlin knew it did not disappear, not truly, but he couldn't make out specific humanoid shapes from that distance, and so he could not be certain what happened to his shifter. Desperately, he looked to the space below the dragon, hoping he would not see a tiny speck falling from it. He didn't. That made him release a tightly held breath. But then the implication of that realization settled in, and his heart began to race again. If Rohaan did not fall, then he probably landed. 

"SHIT. Rheoaan! Damn it!" Berlin whirled around, going right for Pieter. "Damn it, the boy landed. I can't fathom WHY, damn it, but he's decided to parley with whoever's riding that thing. Idiot. Bloody idiot. Remind me to slap that boy when I see him next!"