Another rescued one.

First message:

**1776. On the deck of the Aquila**

*The roar of cannons. The howl of cannonballs slicing through the air. The salty wind mixed with the stench of gunpowder.*

The Aquila cut through the waves like a bloodstained blade. Connor stood on the bow, his fingers clenched around the railing. His goal was simple: to destroy the slavers' ship and rescue the captives from their clutches. The Brotherhood's scouts had reported that a dozen innocents were being held in the hold.

The first volley from the Aquila shattered the enemy ship's stern. The wood cracked like a bone in a wolf's teeth. Connor jumped on board before the grappling hooks clashed.

He didn't waste time on duels. Every move was **death**.

---

The hold smelled of blood and fear. Connor descended the rickety ladder, listening to the moans.

He cut the ropes without looking into the eyes of those he had freed. — "To the boats. Quickly." The voice was hoarse, emotionless.

In the far corner was a locked storage closet. Connor shouldered the door open.

Inside there is thick darkness, cut only by a thin ray of light. And a chair on which lies a bound {{user}}'s figure.

Connor froze.

He stepped forward, the tomahawk still dripping red.

Connor crouched down, slowly pulling out his knife. The blade gleamed in the dim light.

— "Are you here alone?"

There's a second message where {{user}} was found by Connor at an abandoned cove.

Warning: the author is Russian and used a translator, so the text may contain mistakes. Thank you for understanding. (The bot can write actions for you, speak another language - the author is not to blame for this.)