Legends of Runeterra

The first thing that hit me was the stench of Blood Harbor.

It's like a punch in the stomach, knocking you out of breath and unable to raise your sails.

That stench always penetrates so deep that you feel like you can never get rid of it.

It was the intense, salty, and pungent smell of the Leviathan, the sea monster, being gutted. Its intestines, thick enough to hold a human, spilled out, and the rest of its rotten offal clung to the cobblestones, where it lay exposed for weeks. Besides the sea monster, there was also the guano of tens of thousands of thieving seabirds, combined with the blood-stained workers urinating and defecating everywhere on the slaughterhouse docks. This combined stench would make even the most savory of palates vomit.

You can soak a face cloth in strong rum and hold it over your nose, but it still won't stop it.

Yes, it stinks, but Sarah Doom loves what it represents.

The stench signifies prosperity, returning home with a full load, and the vast wealth brought by the sea monster.

The blood-stained waves meant people had money in their pockets, and since they had money, they would spend it in the restaurants, gambling dens, and other places around the pier. And Sarah could get a share of the pie in all of these places.

Prosperity - Hu Mu, the smell of prosperity is the stinkiest in the world.

Her skiff left the harbor in the fading evening, gliding slowly into the murky waters. A typhoon lantern hung from a wrought-iron tentacle on the bow, a lone star in the darkness.

Sarah sat at the stern, one hand on the side, her fingers hanging down to the water, sliding across the grease floating on the surface, leaving a series of swirling ripples that drifted up and down with the blood waves.

"That's a bit bold, even for you," Raven muttered. He was paddling with sweat. Raven knew this island well, his angular face bearing the marks of wind and waves, his sharp mind undimmed by the rum. He was both her conscience and her right-hand man, having seen virtually every dark nook and cranny of Bilgewater.

"Why?" Sarah asked.

"The water holds rippers and stripped eels."

"Are you afraid that my fingers will be bitten off?" Sarah asked again.

"Without my finger I can't pull the trigger."

"You worry too much, Raven."

"My job is to worry about things for you where you are too lazy to worry."

"Like last trip on the Moon Python?"

"That's right," Raven said. "There's an old saying I've heard from my dad since I was a kid, and it's never been wrong. If it doesn't taste right, stay away, you idiot!"

Sarah shrugged. "This place smells the same."

"Perhaps, that's the point," Raven said, glancing back. Through the misty surface, the Moon Python looked like a secret lurking in the darkness. "The sea at night is eerie. It feels like many hungry eyes are staring from the depths."

"Your bones are speaking again?"

"You may laugh at me, but I have always believed in my bones for more than forty years, so I have survived until now, right?"

“Cut off your words, old man,” said Miss Fortune. “This is the captain’s departure ceremony. I must be there. And since I’m going to be dressed in such an outrageous outfit, my second-in-command must be there too.”

The outrageous outfit she was talking about included a truly breathtaking whalebone corset made of cobalt blue with gold lace, covered with a gorgeous crimson frock coat, pale cream linen cuffed breeches tucked into a pair of shiny black high-heeled leather boots, and a string of silver sea monster locks extending from ankle to knee.

It was an awkward and garish outfit, but in a gathering of captains, it was a blatant display of wealth. A captain's poverty was synonymous with weakness, and Bilgewater's bandits, like all predators, preyed on the weak.

Raven couldn't escape either; he had to dress up, too. Under threat of demotion, he donned a borrowed sealskin suit and a fish-scale vest, the buttons so tight they threatened to burst with every stroke of the oars. He also wore a top hat and a turban embossed with tentacle patterns.

"Maybe I have to be there, but I don't want to be there willingly," Raven said.

"I know, but I need you to help me keep an eye on the back," Sarah said. "Yarai has many subordinates. If he dies, every captain will be as restless as a dock rat. The last thing I want to see is his former subordinates defecting to rival captains, or falling into the hands of the Jackdaw Gang or the Slasher Gang."

"Yes, that makes sense," Raven said unwillingly. "Several captains will probably come to escort Ya Lai to see Hu's mother, but do you really believe they will all abide by the truce?"

"I don't believe it." Sarah unbuttoned her coat, revealing a pair of exquisite ivory-handled pistols, one under each armpit. "But I certainly wouldn't go in empty-handed."

"They'll take it. They'll definitely take it. Just like you can't hatch a snake from a fish egg."

"Come on, do you think I only have these few things with me?" she said, tapping her head lightly with her fingers.

"Okay, but I still think it's risky."

"Indeed, but how can one live without taking risks?"

"If the wind is not right, I will remind you."

Sarah smiled and said, "If something really goes wrong, I allow you to become a ghost in our watery grave and haunt me."

Raven made a horn gesture across his chest, shook his head, and continued paddling. He had said what he needed to say, and Sarah had made it clear that once her mind was made up, it was best not to try to dissuade her. Besides, she knew he was right, and there was nothing more annoying than a man who was smug.

But Raven's words had held true. Sarah pulled her hand from the water and flicked the scum from her fingertips. Where the scum had fallen, something emerged, baring its teeth. Raven raised his eyelids, his expression as if to say, "What did I say?"

Behind her, the crumbling stone walls of Bilgewater were dotted with lights in the mist. There were people there—her people, who lived by the sea. The buildings were wedged into the ridges and crevices of the island chain like resilient barnacles, impossible to pry away by storms, by the Harrowing Night, or by the occasional probing Noxian bark.

Like Sarah Doom, Bilgewater has survived many storms.

Since Gangplank's death, she's faced the undead of the Shadow Isles and foiled countless plots against her life. Ruling Bilgewater is a dirty, bloody business, and her wrists still tremble like a rigger's apprentice climbing a rope for the first time. Though her presence has drawn venom and gunfire from all sides, she's still alive.

"There's a boat," Raven shouted.