05-23-2018, 05:05 PM
In the aftermath of Tia’s spell, pirates flailed and gasped all across the deck, coughing up sea water and nursing bruises and cuts. The only one of the marauders to regain his feet, to no one’s surprise, was Blackbeard. The burly man spit a stream of curses and cast his maniacal gaze about in search of his wide-brimmed hat.
“Ye’ll pay for that, Deudermont!” he roared. “Ye and yer fucking witch!” By some miracle, Blackbeard had managed to keep hold of his scimitar and now he did not hesitate in his charge. Tia Dalma, exhausted nearly to the point of collapse, tried to cast another spell. But the enraged pirate captain was too quick, and the pommel of his scimitar met the voodoo priestess’s temple with a sickening crunch, laying her low. “Not this time, ye accursed bitch.”
Captain Deudermont held his cutlass with both hands and stepped a cautious path around the formidable Blackbeard. Taller than Deudermont by a head and outweighing him by at least a hundred pounds, the pirate captain darted in with surprising quickness, almost catching Deudermont off his guard. The wicked scimitar whistled in and screeched off of the sea captain’s desperate parry, but the force of the blow vibrated painfully through Deudermont’s arm and numbed his fingertips with its sheer strength.
Skipping backward and shaking his hand to restore the feeling in his fingers, Deudermont appraised Blackbeard with new respect. The mocking tone he had assumed when addressing the dangerous pirate lord had fled, Deudermont’s dancing eyes now hard with determination. This time, he attacked first.
Trying to leverage his superior dexterity, Deudermont charged in and tucked into a roll beneath Blackbeard’s swipe. Coming up beneath the burly man’s arm, he managed to poke the tip of his cutlass into an exposed armpit before a quick backhand sent him sprawling to the deck. The sea captain’s battered body bounced across the deck and came to rest at the edge of the encroaching water.
Valiant Captain Deudermont tried to rise once more, shaking his head to clear the stars from his vision. He managed only to get up to his knees before Blackbeard closed the distance between them, bellowing his triumph. Unable to muster the strength even to defend himself, Deudermont locked eyes with the pirate captain and managed a weary smile.
“Somethin’ funny, ye bilge-suckin’ son o’ a whore?” Blackbeard growled.
“Only that you think you’ve won the day,” Deudermont said.
Blackbeard’s face contorted with confusion, just in time for Whirda Windstrom to swing past the fallen Captain Deudermont, clutching the ragged rope of the ship’s rigging, and plant the heels of both of her boots into the enormous pirate’s chest. Blackbeard staggered back and fell beneath the weight of the blow with a grown.
In an instant Whirda appeared on top of the fallen Blackbeard, her dagger flitting back and forth faster than the pirate captain’s eyes could follow.
Blackbeard tried to muster a defense, wriggling one arm free from Whirda’s relentless assault and trying to bring his scimitar up, but the wriggling shadow serpents on Whirda’s arms and shoulders darted forward and pinned his burly arm to the deck. The grace of Whirda’s movements, her dagger and buckler weaving back and forth harmoniously to defeat every movement of the seasoned pirate captain, stunned the man.
A gash opened across Blackbeard’s right cheek, then another across his forehead. The pommel of Whirda’s dagger crunched into his face, caving in an eye socket and most of one cheek. On and on Whirda pounded, until blood pooled on the deck and Blackbeard’s face became an unrecognizable mass of gore.
Long after all life had fled from the pirate lord, Captain Deudermont dragged Whirda off the man’s limp and twitching corpse. They both collapsed on the deck, breathing heavily.
The water level rose precipitously. Working together, the beleaguered companions dragged the unconscious Tia Dalma to safety. In mere minutes, Captain Deudermont knew, the sea would claim the Sea Sprite, the beloved ship he had called his own for more than half of his long life.
A chill wind came across the deck. The sun dipped below the horizon. A wave of despair came over Deudermont in that moment, the weight off loss and of the interminable violence of the Omniverse settling on his aching shoulders. Wavering, he rose to his feet. While the Sea Sprite could not be salvaged, Blackbeard’s ship had withstood the test of battle. Marred by cannon fire, its foremast cracked and drooping, the vessel nevertheless remained watertight.
Whirda followed the sea captain’s gaze and understood his thoughts. “Do any remain aboard?”
Deudermont regarded the woman warily. Her slender, stoic features, spattered with blood and bits of gore, betrayed no guilt or horror concerning the murder of Blackbeard. While she did not carry the telltale signs of the contagion, the astute Deudermont could sense a shift in the woman, a compromise of morals that had guided the gruesome kill. Still, Deudermont knew, he was hard-pressed for allies with the loss of his crew. He could not even carry Tia Dalma across the distance to the pirate vessel alone.
“Not likely,” he replied. “They do not possess the wisdom to remain behind when victory is at hand.”
“Brace yourself.” Whirda laid a hand on both of her companions, and a moment later the three of them stood on the deck of the pirate vessel. When no marauders came at them from the descending shadows, they knew Deudermont’s logic had been sound.
“What do we do now?” Whirda asked, her voice absent of any emotion.
“We rest,” Deudermont said. “When Tia Dalma recovers we will be able to set sail for Costa Del Sol. Without her favorable winds filling our sails, I’m afraid the two of us will not be sufficient.”
Whirda nodded. “I will keep watch,” she said automatically, “in case any of the pirate’s allies come searching for him.” With those ominous words, the black-veined Prime stalked off, the shadows wrapping around her like an obscuring cloak.
Captain Deudermont plopped into a sitting position beside Tia Dalma’s prone form, too exhausted to reply--too exhausted even to seek a proper bed. Before his drooping eyelids closed and the welcome embrace of sleep took him, he watched as the flag of Luskan, once flying proudly atop the Sea Sprite’s mainmast, sank beneath the turgid sea.
“Ye’ll pay for that, Deudermont!” he roared. “Ye and yer fucking witch!” By some miracle, Blackbeard had managed to keep hold of his scimitar and now he did not hesitate in his charge. Tia Dalma, exhausted nearly to the point of collapse, tried to cast another spell. But the enraged pirate captain was too quick, and the pommel of his scimitar met the voodoo priestess’s temple with a sickening crunch, laying her low. “Not this time, ye accursed bitch.”
Captain Deudermont held his cutlass with both hands and stepped a cautious path around the formidable Blackbeard. Taller than Deudermont by a head and outweighing him by at least a hundred pounds, the pirate captain darted in with surprising quickness, almost catching Deudermont off his guard. The wicked scimitar whistled in and screeched off of the sea captain’s desperate parry, but the force of the blow vibrated painfully through Deudermont’s arm and numbed his fingertips with its sheer strength.
Skipping backward and shaking his hand to restore the feeling in his fingers, Deudermont appraised Blackbeard with new respect. The mocking tone he had assumed when addressing the dangerous pirate lord had fled, Deudermont’s dancing eyes now hard with determination. This time, he attacked first.
Trying to leverage his superior dexterity, Deudermont charged in and tucked into a roll beneath Blackbeard’s swipe. Coming up beneath the burly man’s arm, he managed to poke the tip of his cutlass into an exposed armpit before a quick backhand sent him sprawling to the deck. The sea captain’s battered body bounced across the deck and came to rest at the edge of the encroaching water.
Valiant Captain Deudermont tried to rise once more, shaking his head to clear the stars from his vision. He managed only to get up to his knees before Blackbeard closed the distance between them, bellowing his triumph. Unable to muster the strength even to defend himself, Deudermont locked eyes with the pirate captain and managed a weary smile.
“Somethin’ funny, ye bilge-suckin’ son o’ a whore?” Blackbeard growled.
“Only that you think you’ve won the day,” Deudermont said.
Blackbeard’s face contorted with confusion, just in time for Whirda Windstrom to swing past the fallen Captain Deudermont, clutching the ragged rope of the ship’s rigging, and plant the heels of both of her boots into the enormous pirate’s chest. Blackbeard staggered back and fell beneath the weight of the blow with a grown.
In an instant Whirda appeared on top of the fallen Blackbeard, her dagger flitting back and forth faster than the pirate captain’s eyes could follow.
Blackbeard tried to muster a defense, wriggling one arm free from Whirda’s relentless assault and trying to bring his scimitar up, but the wriggling shadow serpents on Whirda’s arms and shoulders darted forward and pinned his burly arm to the deck. The grace of Whirda’s movements, her dagger and buckler weaving back and forth harmoniously to defeat every movement of the seasoned pirate captain, stunned the man.
A gash opened across Blackbeard’s right cheek, then another across his forehead. The pommel of Whirda’s dagger crunched into his face, caving in an eye socket and most of one cheek. On and on Whirda pounded, until blood pooled on the deck and Blackbeard’s face became an unrecognizable mass of gore.
Long after all life had fled from the pirate lord, Captain Deudermont dragged Whirda off the man’s limp and twitching corpse. They both collapsed on the deck, breathing heavily.
The water level rose precipitously. Working together, the beleaguered companions dragged the unconscious Tia Dalma to safety. In mere minutes, Captain Deudermont knew, the sea would claim the Sea Sprite, the beloved ship he had called his own for more than half of his long life.
A chill wind came across the deck. The sun dipped below the horizon. A wave of despair came over Deudermont in that moment, the weight off loss and of the interminable violence of the Omniverse settling on his aching shoulders. Wavering, he rose to his feet. While the Sea Sprite could not be salvaged, Blackbeard’s ship had withstood the test of battle. Marred by cannon fire, its foremast cracked and drooping, the vessel nevertheless remained watertight.
Whirda followed the sea captain’s gaze and understood his thoughts. “Do any remain aboard?”
Deudermont regarded the woman warily. Her slender, stoic features, spattered with blood and bits of gore, betrayed no guilt or horror concerning the murder of Blackbeard. While she did not carry the telltale signs of the contagion, the astute Deudermont could sense a shift in the woman, a compromise of morals that had guided the gruesome kill. Still, Deudermont knew, he was hard-pressed for allies with the loss of his crew. He could not even carry Tia Dalma across the distance to the pirate vessel alone.
“Not likely,” he replied. “They do not possess the wisdom to remain behind when victory is at hand.”
“Brace yourself.” Whirda laid a hand on both of her companions, and a moment later the three of them stood on the deck of the pirate vessel. When no marauders came at them from the descending shadows, they knew Deudermont’s logic had been sound.
“What do we do now?” Whirda asked, her voice absent of any emotion.
“We rest,” Deudermont said. “When Tia Dalma recovers we will be able to set sail for Costa Del Sol. Without her favorable winds filling our sails, I’m afraid the two of us will not be sufficient.”
Whirda nodded. “I will keep watch,” she said automatically, “in case any of the pirate’s allies come searching for him.” With those ominous words, the black-veined Prime stalked off, the shadows wrapping around her like an obscuring cloak.
Captain Deudermont plopped into a sitting position beside Tia Dalma’s prone form, too exhausted to reply--too exhausted even to seek a proper bed. Before his drooping eyelids closed and the welcome embrace of sleep took him, he watched as the flag of Luskan, once flying proudly atop the Sea Sprite’s mainmast, sank beneath the turgid sea.
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