Ace’s distraction was exactly what I needed. The moment Quickblade disappeared to knock the captain over and cut the rope, I knew exactly where he would appear next. I have to be fast and inconspicuous, because there’s only a very short window. Blast was lying next to the mast, so that will give me limited cover. It’ll have to do. There he is! He doesn’t seem to have noticed me yet, too focussed on Blast. Whatever went on between those two, something tells me our beloved captain left out a few details. "You will pay," “Not today.” I turn away from the mast and thrust my sword at his back. All or nothing.
With some effort, Ace rolled onto his front and coughed up a globule of blood on the deck while he clutched his ribs. "That could of gone a bit better." He wheezed. Still in some considerable pain, Ace managed to slowly pull himself up onto the bannister, where he caught sight of Quickblade stooping over Blast with his sword, ready to inflict the final blow. No, I can't let him. I won't. Ace began to pull the pistol out of his jacket and turned it to aim at Quickblade, but suddenly noticed that Madam Spark was dangerously close to the map. His one chance at Firebrand's hidden treasure. The single greatest archeological mystery in the history of these waters. The decision weighed heavy on him: Spark reaching down to pick up the map, Quickblade readying his sword to drive it through Blast's heart. To make history - or to avenge Sly. History or vengeance. "You will pay." Quickblade hissed. "Not today." Adam called out, thrusting his sword at Quickblade. He made his decision. Ace wearily trained his shot on Quickblade, waiting for the perfect moment, his finger desperately close to the hair trigger.
After Ace swooped in, Cephilia’s plan --if it could even be called such a thing-- went completely sideways. Quickblade vanished. Although she couldn’t se the attack, it was quite clear he was the one who’d severed Ace’s rope and sent the young man tumbling across the deck. Cephilia had been headed for Blast but, when Quickblade vanished, she veered off course, headed for the map instead. If Quickblade reappeared and ran off with it, they stood no hope of catching him. More than their lives was at stake here. Besides, Elva’s spirits and Adam were dealing with the assassin. More bodies crowded around the man just meant more meatshields for him to bob and weave through --or cut through. Numbers gave him an advantage, so Cephilia went after the map instead. She saw Spark rocketing toward it and Cephilia decided to intercept her. After all, it was partially her fault Toliver had let that awful woman go in the first place. Madame Spark kicked Anya out of the way, but as she bent to pick up the map a steel chain whizzed by, within inches of her nose. The chain latched onto the railing and Cephilia pulled the ring on Vigilance’s hilt. She swooped past Madame Spark as a red blur, snatched up the map as she passed, and came to a stop at the ship’s railing. Well, she ‘stopped’ by slamming into the railing and knocking the wind out of herself, nearly losing the map in the process. She awkwardly fumbled with it for a moment before getting a proper grip and tucking it into her coat with a victorious grin. “Mine,” she wheezed, brandishing her sword at Blast’s mother. “And you can’t have it.”
Red Eye hung back as the others made their moves; though not for nothing. His bare hand was on the deck, waiting, ready at Cephilia's request to ice the wet deck. If he moved too quickly he'd only send his allies flying. While fun, that probably wouldn't do much to take care of Quickblade. He stayed low and out of sight, watching every move made by the combatants. Sally...somehow had two arms again. Now that was interesting. He wondered...perhaps the magic in the selkie's flesh had bonded to the magic that had severed the original limb? That warranted further experimentation, when time permitted. Whatever the case, at least they had another fighter back at full strength- Oh wait, no, she'd gone and run off to "get supplies". Red Eye couldn't help but think there might have been a better time for that. Madame Spark was up and at it again, unfortunately. Red Eye would have liked to send her for a swim while she was immobile, but sadly there hadn't been time. Fortunately Cephilia was on top of the situation, retrieving the map before Spark could make off with it. Skilled though she was, it was unlikely she'd be able to handle Blast's mother by herself. They needed to even the odds here, quick. And then he saw the perfect moment crystallize. As Quickblade prepared to strike at Blast; Ezra, Ace, and ...Adam, was it? each prepared an attack from three different sides. Even Tolliver seemed to be getting ready to do something. Quickblade could doubtless evade every single attack, with that talent of his...if Red Eye let him. With the new power crackling through his veins, Red Eye could feel the path the ice would take across the deck. He couldn't let it spread to the others; he had to curve it, create a solid path beneath the feet of Spark and Quickblade. His fingers tingled, and he grinned madly as he felt the power rise. Let's see you dodge an attack you don't know is coming, he thought, and let loose.
Quickblade was distracted momentarily by Elva's sprites, but only for a moment: he slashed his blade and the sprites disappeared in three flashes of silver-blue light. One of them managed to scratch his face and a half of the black fabric that covered his head fell away, revealing his sharp cheekbone, thin nose, and cruel, twisted mouth. He might have been devastatingly handsome if he stopped scowling, but his features were contorted with hate and his steel-blue eye burned with cold rage. Adam thrust his sword and, for once, Quickblade wasn't fast enough. He tried to move aside, but the sword pierced his torso and scraped against a rib bone. Quickblade growled and shoved Adam in the chest so hard that he flew across the deck like a flimsy ragdoll, crashing into Madam Spark. Madam Spark shrieked and hit the ground, but she almost immediately started to scramble to her feet. Anya was there in a moment and bashed Spark on the back of the head with the hilt of her knife, knocking her out cold. Quickblade turned to strike Captain Blast, but the clever pirate had jumped to his feet and was holding his sword in a defensive position. Quickblade mouth turned up in a joyless, spiteful smile and he prepared to cut Blast to pieces...when he slipped and fell on his back. The ground was iced over and he had lost his balance. Blast took a step forward to attack, but he also slipped and landed on his stomach. "Now," Tolliver whispered. He flung out both his hands and Quickblade went completely rigid. Blast stood up and dusted himself off, looking as smug as can be. "That's some good work, little brother," Blast commended his sibling. "Now what do we do with this maniac?" The words had barely left his mouth when Quickblade jerked into action. He stood up, as graceful as a snake or smoke rising, and swung his sword in a whistling curve. Captain Blast jumped back and blocked the attack just in time. "I...I blocked you," Captain Blast murmured in surprise. Quickblade was the fastest man in the world, how could Blast have stopped his attack? Then it dawned on him: Tolliver's gift froze normal people, but since Quickblade could move faster than the eye could follow, all it did to him was make him normal. "Finally...a fair fight," Blast said with a wicked grin. Quickblade looked around him at the formidable pirates and reached into his tight sleeve. He pulled out what appeared to be a glowing blue marble and tossed it in the air. The marble expanded into a glasslike dome that surrounded Quickblade and Captain Blast, trapping them inside. "The Royal Wizard gave this to me," Quickblade said in his husky, unused voice. "Now I can kill you...without interruptions. You will pay." In a flurry of movements, Quickblade attacked and Blast parried each attack, gritting his teeth with effort. Their swords clanged together again and again, orange and yellow sparks flying from the brutal impact. After a moment of vicious, clumsy slashing, they both jumped back at the same time and moved in, lunging with their swords. Impossibly, the tips of their blades collided precisely: both swords shattered to pieces and they were both thrown back into opposite sides of the glowing bubble. "Not again, not this time," Quickblade growled, pulling himself to his feet. "You won't win. You don't get to walk away." "Why can't you just let this go?" Blast snapped. "Let us go?" "YOU BROKE ME!" Quickblade screamed at the top of his lungs. He pounded his chest with his fist. "You made me feel and then you broke me!" "And I'm going to do it again," Blast replied. Without warning, he exploded to his feet and punched Quickblade square in the jaw. The assassin stumbled backwards and Blast took a knife out of his boot and stabbed it through his chest. The bubble disappeared a split second later and Blast rolled away from the dead body, panting and sweating. It was finished.
It took me a few seconds to realise that it is actually over. Spark out cold. Kelpie and Quickblade dead. Tolliver on our side. I hit Quickblade. That’s one for the grandchildren. You broke me. He’d said. That does not sit right with me. Not right at all. At that last moment, he no longer looked like a cold-blooded killer. He was desperate. That was the moment we could have reasoned with him. Instead, our captain killed him on the spot. I don’t know what happened between them. He was probably right to do so. But it does not sit right with me. As I try to walk towards the captain, I realise that Quickblade packed a far meaner punch than Tolliver. I would probably have bruised a few ribs in that fall if Spark hadn’t broken it. There is a cold stream of blood flowing down the side of my head. Ace’s shot was spot on, but Quickblade’s last minute dodge put me in the crosshairs. Luckily, it only grazed me. Probably needs a few stitches though. I sit down next to my captain. It’s story time. “So, captain… maybe now you can tell us your story. We deserve that much, don’t you think?”
With Spark out cold and the map firmly in her possession, Cephilia ran to aid her captain. Quickblade had thrown up a protective shield around them, but she was confident that that wouldn’t stop her. Unfortunately, she was too late. The assassin showed his desperation and that desperation made him weak; Blast made short work of the man. By the time Cephilia arrived, the shield fell and, with it, Quickblade. Unbeatable? She scoffed. Hmph, looks like Blast has learned to face him fears. Good for him. “So, captain… maybe now you can tell us your story,” Adam said. “We deserve that much, don’t you think?” “What we deserve is a stiff drink and a moment’s rest,” Cephilia said as she stowed her sword and disappeared below decks for a few seconds. When she returned, she was carrying a… pillow… and blanket…? Cephilia ignored the odd looks everyone gave her as she bound Madame Spark’s hands and feet with a length of rope, then put the pillow under the woman’s head and laid the blanket over her. “We have the map. We defeated your mother, Syra, and Quickblade,” Cephilia said as she tucked in Blast’s mom with far more care and respect than the woman deserved. “But let’s not forget what we’ve lost today.” She faced Blast. “I propose a night on the town, in honor of Billy. We need a moment to regroup, before sailing into the next storm.”
Captain Blast was tired to the bone. His entire body hurt, it even hurt to breathe. But he finally caught his breath and got to his feet, his muscles aching with every movement. He looked at Quickblade's corpse and for a moment it looked like tears clouded his eyes, but then he blinked and the tears were gone. Blast turned and gave Adam a hard look when he asked for his story, as if he was angered, but then he sighed and his face softened. "You are right, I guess," he grumbled. "You deserve to know." "I would also like to know what Quickblade was talking about," Anya added, her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. She was leaning against the mast while wrapping her thigh wound with a strip of cloth that she had ripped from her shirt sleeve. "I would like to know, too," Tolliver intoned as he came from around the barrel he was hiding behind. "I'll need a strong drink first," Blast bargained. Cephilia suggested a night on the town just as he uttered the words. "Sounds perfect," he told her, tipping his wide-brimmed black hat in her direction. "Billy Bones would have wanted that." His eyes went dark, filled with a profound sadness. Anya limped over to him and held his hand, completely forgetting that she was suspicious of him. "I don't drink, so I'll volunteer to stay behind," Tolliver said. "Someone needs to make sure the ship doesn't get stolen. This is Pirate Bay, after all. And I would like to get all my books and things from the Candy Stripe."
Right now we should all really take a night’s rest instead of a night out. Still, if this is the way Billy wants us to remember him, that’s exactly how we’ll do it. I take another long look at this band of misfits. The young gipsy lady and the Selki killer seem to be the only ones who came off without a scratch. We’re an odd bunch together, but we just went through Hell and came out walking. Yeah, let’s take that drink. “I’ll have to patch myself up first though, maybe not a bad idea for some of you either. Anyone have a needle and some thread?”
Chapter Two: FIREBRAND ISLAND Back at the Palace... The doors to the dining hall burst open and the Royal Wizard came striding inside. "Your Highness," Allan Shielding said with a slight bow. "I have information that you might want to hear." King Roger looked up from his full plate, a huge smile on his face. "Oh, Allan!" he called out. "Why don't you join us! We're celebrating Captain Blast's death! We've got roasted pig, smoked fish, grilled chicken, everything you could possibly desire!" He had been like this ever since they sent Quickblade to kill Blast, annoyingly upbeat and friendly. "I quite enjoy these little carrots," Queen AnnaBeth said in her airy, dreamy voice. She was eating sliced carrots with a gold fork while cradling a five-foot-long alligator. The alligator tried to turn and bite her face, but the queen threw some carrots into his toothy maw. The alligator choked and spit it all out on the highly polished marble floor. "Look, he likes them, too!" AnnaBeth cried with delight. "Yes, I see my queen," Lilura Silkweb commented. She was sitting to Queen AnnaBeth's right, with her own plate in front of her, but she had barely touched it because she was reading a book under the table. Lilura closed her book upon Allan's arrival and grinned at him, leaping at the chance to annoy her prickly colleague. "Do join us, Allan," she said, repeating the king's invitation. "You always brighten up our day with your eternally sunny disposition." Allan scowled at her and turned back to the king. "My liege," he said to the king. "Seeing as you're obsessed with Captain Blast, I thought I should tell you something. Quickblade is dead." King Roger dropped his fork and his smile vanished. "What did you just say to me?" he said in a soft whisper. "Quickblade, sir," Allan repeat with a hint of irritation. "He's dead." "How could you possibly know that?" Lilura asked, one silver eyebrow raised. "I gave Quickblade a piece of my power, in case of an emergency," Allan explained with an exasperated sigh. "I tied it to his life force so that I would be able to sense when it was used and if something happened to him. Less than an hour ago, I felt that it was deployed and that Quickblade passed shortly after. We can only assume that it was by Captain Blast's hand and that the pirate is still at large." King Roger calmly stood up and threw his plate at the wall. It shattered and food rained down on the floor. "How does he keep doing it?!" he howled. "How does he keep slipping through my fingers?!" "Please, my love," Queen AnnaBeth crooned. "Calm yourself. You're scaring my pet." The alligator was trying desperately to bite AnnaBeth, but she clamped it under her arm and kissed it on top of the head. King Roger started ranting about how he was going to gather the entire army and send them after Captain Blast if he had to. Allan frowned and thought about all the magic he could be practicing instead of helping the king find a stupid pirate. He could see that the only way that he could get back to his work is if he could end this whole charade, personally. "I volunteer to arrest Captain Blast and bring him to justice," Allan said after clearing his throat. "Blast has proven himself to be incredibly hard to catch, but if I could arrest Quickblade, then I think I can deal with a filthy pirate." "You forget that I helped you arrest Quickblade," Lilura interjected, smiling. She scooted back her chair and stood with natural grace and poise. "I will come with you." Allan was about to protest, since he clearly didn't want to be travelling with his sworn enemy, but King Roger raised his voice. "That's perfect!" King Roger boomed. "I don't know why I didn't think of it! The two most powerful Talents in all the lands...you will be able to catch that slippery bastard when everyone else has failed. Take my fastest ship and any amount of coins that you may need. You have my blessing. Now go." "I'm so jealous," Queen AnnaBeth said, pouting. "I wish I could go on a vacation." ------------------------------------ Back at Pirate Bay... Captain Blast knew a bar just a few blocks from the docks. It was called Rusty Nail and it was cramped and crowded, but with a happy, carefree vibe. The people there were dirty and grubby, but they were laughing and dancing and no one was fighting, yet. The bartender was a young woman with a large chest, but she had a no-nonsense air about her that said, I'm not the one to mess with. Blast sat in a bar and Anya perched on the stool next to him, staring at his face with a concerned expression. "The usual, Greta," Blast ordered with a tiny, brief smile. The bartender nodded and brought him a huge flagon, which he tipped back and gulped down in a matter of seconds. Greta smoothly refilled the flagon. "So, what do you want to know?" Blast asked his crew. He took off his hat for the first time and shook back his shoulder-length black hair. He looked young and vulnerable without it, or maybe it was because all the steam had gone out of him. There was no swaggering confidence or his usual ironic grin, he just looked sad and defeated, even though they had technically just won the battle. "Wait, I think I should be drunk for this, too," Anya said with a long sigh. She waved to Greta. "I want what he's having." Greta brought another flagon and Anya started glugging it down.
After Anya showed me the medical cabinet, I pulled some rum from Miss Spark’s supplies and went below deck. I’d stitched up enough soldiers in my time, and myself as well, a couple of times, so I knew what I was doing. I also knew it hurt like Hell. So, I took off my armour, held the needle into a flame, poured some rum over the wound, took a big sip and got to work. When I was finished I had six stiches about a centimetre above my brow. This wasn’t my first scar, and they all had stories, but nothing like this one. When I got back up again, the others had decided we were going to the “Rusty Nail”, just outside the port. The company was rough, but I’ve seen worse and the bartender was respected, which always helps. The beer was pretty good too. "So, what do you want to know?" The man had undeniably changed. The look on his face was similar to that of a young man I once knew who was incredibly excited to go to war and fight for what he believed in. Until he realised what war was actually like and was horrified by it. He turned out a good soldier though. A man like that should have some time to himself to process everything that happened. He shouldn’t have to deal with questions like the one I’m going to ask him. But Blast is not a rookie soldier. He’s the captain of this crew and that comes with certain responsibilities. The others have travelled with him longer, so they might trust him to do the right thing, but I know nothing about this man. I cannot trust him just yet. I took a good sip from my beer and turned to face my captain, asking the only question that truly bothers me. I don't accuse him of anything. Some people just have to die. But right now, I have to know why. “In the end, when Quickblade broke down… Why’d you kill him?”
The Rusty Nail, aye? Seemed like Captain Blast’s kind of place. Just enough chaos without being a total madhouse. There was drinking and dancing and general enjoyment all around, but no one had broken a bottle over anyone’s head yet. The night was still young. The captain took a seat at the bar with Anya at his side and ordered the usual from the buxom barkeep, whose cavernous cleavage was like the gateway to some magical wonderland. Gotta stuff those tips in someplace, I suppose, Cephilia thought as she took a stool a little farther down, to give ‘Flairant’ some space. She had questions, too, but was more than satisfied with leaving him be. “A bottle of brandy, please. Biggest you’ve got,” Cephilia said, hailing the bartender with a flutter of her hand. The woman gave Cephilia an odd glare, but dutifully delivered a jug of liquor big enough to tip a cow. “Don’t give me that look,” the noblewoman said as she fished a fistful of coins from her pockets. “It’s not all for me. What do I look like, some kind of lush?” To her surprise, a grubby-looking fellow plopped into the stool beside her, planting himself between her and Blast, and slapped down a pile of coins on the bar before she could pay. “It’s on me. And two glasses, lass,” he said to the barmaid before turning to Cephilia and flashing a yellow smile, missing half its teeth. “A lady shouldn’t drink alone, aye,” he said. “Ye mind?” Yes, she minded very much! She intended to share that bottle with the crew, not… ummm… whoever the hell this guy is. He didn’t wait for her reply. Greta placed two glasses and the stranger promptly uncorked the bottle and filled them both. “So, what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ in a dive like this? Ye come here often?” he said, tossing the drink down his throat before refilling it. At this rate, he’d be blacked out in ten minutes or so.
When Blast sat down, Sally took a seat on the table directly next to him, gesturing for Red Eye to take the opposing seat. "You're just trying to make this as interesting as possible for yourself, aren't you?" She asked. She'd heard about Red Eye's exploits, knowing his penchant for theatrics. She raised her newly returned arm, quickly ordering a drink for herself. Red Eye ignored the offered seat, electing instead to pull a stool out from under a rather inebriated pirate as the chap went to sit down. He seated himself calmly as the drunkard collapsed, and assured with a quick kick that he wouldn't wake up for some time. Too bad the bloke didn't have any friends or they could have had a good row. Later, perhaps. For now, he satisfied himself by claiming the recumbent fellow's mead and settling in with a wink at Sally. "What gave me away?" "Thefact that you're potentially causing trouble for us all with stunts like that." She commented, chuckling to herself slightly. "Not my normal mode of operations. I'm just betting that near end some of it's going to kick back and kick us while we aren't looking. Already lost an arm once, not interested in doing it again." Red Eye's ruby twinkled. "Are you sure about that? By my count you've a one to one record for recovering lost limbs. Could be interesting to see how far that streak might run." He paused to take a sniff of the liquid in his mug. All he could determine was that it contained alcohol. Probably. He set it down again and pushed it slightly away before continuing. "But you're right about me, at least partially. I can't say I particularly care if anyone survives this little adventure, myself included. Affection, loyalty, attachment, what have you...I just can't seem to remember how such things work, somehow! "But I value uniqueness. And surprise. So long as I can find those things among this crew...none of you should have anything to worry about." He laughed. "Of course, you're more than welcome to try and kill me now and save yourselves the trouble. That would be rather fun, too." "I just got this arm back. I'm not going to risk it." She chuckled back. "So, do you have any plans for your share of the treasure, or what you're going to do afterwards?" Sally had been giving a mug of the same, but she ignored it. She'd never been much of a drinker, preferring to keep her thoughts legible and have her words be too quick for her own good. The other way round was oft much more dangerous. "I'm just after the damn mirror myself." The gears turned in Red Eye's memory. A mirror...? Ah, that's right; it was part of the treasure, wasn't it. Its power hadn't meant much of anything to him, so he'd almost forgotten about it. "Looking for something specific, are you? Or just hoping for a new treasure to sell to the highest bidder?" "Specific. Someone did something that damaged a significant of my life. I'm going to take it back." She grumbled. "And I swear, if it turns out the treasure isn't real and we got some stupid moral lesson, I will have to kill someone." Red Eye smiled. "Good to know that, at the very least, I'll have something to look forward to." He gave Sally a quick, discerning look. "Though I admit I wasn't expecting that sort of story from you. You're not what I'd think of as the type that gets attached." "That's because this goes way back, before I was Sally, or Asara, or any other name before that." She answered, before lifting her glass in a mock toast. "The root of all my ills. Why are you here anyway? What do you plan on doing with your share?" Before she was Asara, hmm? Red Eye filed that away in his memory. Ah, history: The one thing he could almost never predict. He liked that. As for himself... He snorted. "What do I care about treasure? It makes people so terribly predictable. My share, as far as I'm concerned, is whatever happens between here and finding it...so long as it's exciting!" And then, once more, the odd feeling of remembrance came over him. He was glimpsing back at the past through the lens of his present self. It was...disorienting. "Of course..." he added thoughtfully, "I suppose we all have people we used to be. If you had asked me that question about 15 years ago, the young fool would probably have answered very differently!" He chuckled quietly, but his heart wasn't in it somehow. "Not that it makes a great deal of difference to who we are now, hm?" Once again her hand was raised. "To who we used to be then." She replied, before clinking her mug against his. Once she had the mirror she'd be able to work properly, her share going towards funding her search as well. Once that was done, she'd go back to smuggling, or maybe find something to do. She wasn't sure, though she'd need a ship of course, and suddenly she was pondering stealing Blasts once this was over. It would be relatively doable, all things considered.
Captain Blast sighed before he told his tale. "Quickblade was unhinged, as you witnessed yourself," he began. "He might have seemed desperate at that moment, but he was not going to leave me be if I let him go. He had made it his life's mission to destroy me. We first met when I tried to kidnap that princess I told you guys about, Princess Kwan Li. Well, the same day I returned her, I was steering the ship when Quickblade just appeared like a ghost, right in front of me. "Apparently, the Emperor of Gyongxe was close pals with Quickblade and he had sent him to find his daughter's kidnappers and slay them all. I managed to explain that I had returned Kwan Li already before Quickblade chopped me up into little pieces. One thing led to another, and we started drinking and I got Billy Bones..." He stopped to blink back tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks. "...I got Billy Bones to play the guitar, and some other crew members played their instruments, and we reveled through the night." Blast paused and fiddled nervously with his mug. "Well, as I was saying, we drank a lot," he continued in a rush of jumbled-up words. "Quickblade stole a kiss from me. I just laughed it off, but Quickblade was serious. He left the next day, he had other people to kill, but over the next couple weeks he kept coming back. It was great at first: he got us out of some impossible situations, like when that giant bird was attacking our ship because I stole a golden crown from its nest. And we got along pretty well, we had a lot in common actually..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "But after a while, Quickblade stopped leaving for jobs and stayed...and I had to tell him to leave." "So...you broke up with him?" Anya asked with more than a hint of jealousy. Captain Blast scowled. "If you have to put it that way, then yes, I did. He didn't take it very well and he's been trying to kill me every since. I killed him today because I knew he would stop at nothing to put me in the ground." He looked around at his crew. "Would any of you have done differently?"
The others had run off to The Rusty Nail and Ace was left alone on the now shimmering deck, the moon slowly rising over the ocean. It's pale glow revealed a hardness to his face and he stood at the edge of the navigation balcony looking down at a now dead Quickblade. Ace was numb; even the bitterly cold winds of the night could not work their way through him. Crows gathered above on the mast, their black glinting eyes watching below. You were mine to kill, he thought to himself. The anger struggled to stay contained inside him, his emotions a boiling pot, the water beginning to bubble, and he held his pistol in his hand so tight the knuckles flashed white. This had never been part of his plan; Ace had wanted to stay hidden from Quickblade until the end of his days - he'd even changed his name - but somehow the world's most dangerous criminal was nothing more than a man. A man who had taken everything from Ace. A man who could not answer for what he had done. Slowly Ace limped down the steps towards Quickblade's body, holding the bannister for support. His knee was in considerable pain and it throbbed with every step but through his thinnly veiled anger he showed no signs of it. And there he was, Quickblade in all his glory, limp and lifeless on the deck with the moon shining down upon his harsh features. Even in death his face was sharp and cold, the eyes still open and staring up wide at the night's sky. Ace gave him a strong boot in the leg, partly to check whether he was still alive. The body shuddered under the impact and then stopped. Ace kicked again. And again. And a final kick that whipped right across Quickblade's face, sending blood and all sorts over the deck, but Ace had kicked so hard that he himself lost balance and collapsed in a heap under the weakness of his injured knee. The moon shone on Ace's teary face, the pain and anguish mixing together in a blinding rage and he lay on the ground breathing heavy, staring over at Quickblade. He was dead... but why did Ace not feel any better? Why had the aching in his chest not gone? Why? He struggled to stand, still raw and eyes bloodshot, leaning on the mast for support. "You... you took everything from me." He said numbly, the words almost whispered. His thoughts moved to Sly, his father and friend, and the emotion fell from Ace's face, tears splashing onto his jacket as he stood over Quickblade, pistol trained on the dead murderer's head. The trigger clicked. The noise echoed. And the crows burst away into the night, squawking from the Vengeful Maiden. * * * The revelry and raucous banter that steamed out of The Rusty Nail could do nothing to lighten Ace's mood, his eyes dry and red but hidden well by his dirty face and the strands of his hair stuck with sweat to his face. He shifted into the pub, slinking subtly past patrons and through the bustling crowd. He headed for the end of the bar, lit in low light and a little bit quieter than the rest of the pub, somewhere where he could drink in a small measure of solace. The barmaid Greta eventually found her way to him on the end and he raised two fingers without a word, she gave an understanding nod and brought him two small glasses whiskey. With a simple clink of glasses he whispered, "cheers" to himself and downed his drink.
"Would any of you have done differently?" It took a few seconds before I could answer that, but in the end it boiled down to something really quite simple. “There’s a lot of things I would have done differently… but not how it ended.” I’m not sure if that exonerates Blast or convicts me, but it’s the truth. Some deaths cannot be avoided, no matter how much we may regret them. Love and regret can drive people beyond reason. This was a good reminder for my own reason never to get drunk. There’s nothing wrong with a little drink, but a man should always remain in control of his own actions. After all, you can never drink away your responsibility for them. Speaking of which, that man at the bar is about to learn this lesson the hard way. The way he’s going he’s about to lose the other half of his teeth. “You’ve made a lot of choices I cannot agree with, but in the end you had a decision to make. For what it’s worth… I think you did the right thing.” I got up, put my right hand on his right shoulder and looked him in the eye. “You have won my loyalty today captain. Use it well.” With that, I walk towards Cephilia, hoping I can stop this imminent bar fight from happening. I think we’ve all cracked enough skulls for one day.
“And what happened next?” Cephilia asked, slowly swirling her glass of brandy. Her new ‘friend’ was halfway through a wonderful yarn about his first encounter with a legendary pirate. For what it’s worth, he was actually a pretty good storyteller. “He hit the deck like a sack o’ year-old potatoes, he did. That’s what happened next,” the man said, laughing riotously. “He was all talk. Most folks is.” “Too true,” Cephilia remarked. “Few men can live up to the tales told of their greatness.” “Aye, but I figured the great Captain Blast would be more… I dunno… challenging, I suppose,” the man said. “Ought to call him Cap’n Glass Jaw.” “What did he look like?” Cephilia asked. ”He were a huge fella, tall n’ wide as two ox,” the man said. “Bigger’n me. Bigger’n an elephant. Bigger’n Greta’s…” the busty barmaid flashed him a look of warning. “Eyes. What lovely eyes ye have, Greta.” He paused to toss another drink down his throat before flashing a toothless smile at Cephilia. “Not as lovely as yours though. Blue as the sea, me lovely.” “Why thank you. You’re such a gentleman,” Cephilia said, looking away coyly. “What happened after you hit Captain Blast? I bet his crew didn’t take kindly to that.” “He were alone. I guess when you’s built like a brick house ya figure ya don’t need no crew. The damned fool,” the man grumbled. “I dropped him in one punch, I did. Yessir. Me crew were all ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh,’ but I stepped right up to him and cleaned his clock. I ain’t ‘fraid o' nothin’ and no one.” He laughed from deep in his gut. “I heard he’s in town tonight,” Cephilia remarked. “I would be wary if I were you.” “Lies,” the man said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “He wouldn’t dare. Not with me about. He won’t come ‘round, no, unless he wants his chin rocked again.” He shook his fist. “I hear his mum’s about, too. Now there’s a dame I’d let walk me plank, shiver me timber, hoist me mainsail…” he chuckled. “I may no look it, but I keeps me sword wet, lass.” For a moment, she had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the way he grinned at her as he said it told her everything she needed to know. She was no longer smiling. “Must be made of poor steel,” Cephilia remarked, sipping at her own drink. “A good blade doesn’t need to be oiled constantly… and knows when to stay in its sheath.” He grinned again. “You’s an expert on the subject? An’ here I thought you was a right proper lady. Seen many a blade, have ye?” “I’ve seen enough.” “You never seen one big as mine,” he said with a playful wink. Oh, he still thought they were having fun? He was in for a rude awakening. Cephilia’s eyes narrowed on him. She was about to give him a piece of her mind, but he lifted the bottle and refilled her glass. “I’s offended ye with me vulgar talk? My apologies. Was raised in a barn, I was. Can’t help it. Here, have another, lass. Ye seem so high strung.” “No, thank you,” she said coldly. “Some of us don’t hold our liquor as well as you do.” “Aye,” the man said, downing her drink for her before refilling it again. “I’ve a knack for it. Once drank a keg o’ moonshine all by meself. Was a lonely night, that. Ne’r again. Swore to me mates that I’ll ne’r drink alone.” He winked. “Too many pretty girls in the world for that, I say.” Cephilia grinned. “An entire keg and you didn’t feel a thing?” “Mhm. Iron stomach, I got. Could say I’ve a talent for such.” “I see.” Cephilia smiled and lifted her glass for a toast. “To talented men,” she said as the glasses clinked together, then she downed her brandy in one gulp, letting its warmth slither down her throat. “Atta girl,” the man said. “I knew ye’d come ‘round eventually. Here, lemme refill yer-” She lightly tapped him on the shoulder with her right hand and he immediately collapsed. The poor fellow didn’t know what hit him as the effect of gallons of alcohol suddenly hit him like a runaway carriage. He struck his head on the bar and rolled off of his stool, ending up in a crumpled heap on the floor, where he lay groaning and groping for something to hold on to. Another weakling hiding behind a talent, she thought as she dismounted her stool and stepped back, pretending to be shocked. She almost felt sorry for him as she watched the poor man try to stand twice before giving up and deciding to just stay down, huddled under the bar, trying not to lose his lunch. Cephilia refilled her glass and took a seat further down the bar, next to Ace. “Mind the brandy. It sneaks up on you,” she remarked humorlessly.
When Cephilia sat down Ace shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes never moving from the drink in front of him. She noted that his chipper self had diminished, instead a man now dark and brooding sat beside her, and he spoke gruffly, "Do we have to fight again or can i sit and drink in peace? I'm really not in the mood." He downed the drink and snatched the next glass, his hand lightly swirling the liquid. His tone caught her off guard. He looked… down, but she hadn’t expected him to be quite so sullen. Cephilia sighed. “Of course not,” she said softly, only to realize her words could be interpreted two ways. “I mean, of course we don’t have to fight again.” After a slight pause, she added, “We shouldn’t have fought the first time.” He gave a half smile and nodded slightly, staying hunched low over his glass, "Hmph, I'll drink to that." Ace downed his drink once more before flashing the empty glass towards Greta and shaking it a little, giving her another smile. "Another two please?" He was downbeat yes, but Ace never stopped being the roguish gentleman that he was. She dutifully served another two drinks and scooted off on her way to other patrons, leaving Ace and Cephilia in silence once more. The awkward quiet held for a while. Ace didn't have much to say, or much he wanted to say anyway. But some company would do, especially when Cephilia the chatty type. No doubt Red Eye would at this point be trying to talk Ace's ear off about all the strangeness of the world, or instigating a bar fight with Ace inadvertently caught in the brawl, all to feed his desire for all things interesting. Or there was Adam, the nice guy slave turned servant, desperate to prove his loyalty to Cephilia or Blast or whoever would listen. Bleugh, far too much "by the book" than Ace could handle really. He had been staring off into space for a while now, only to realise that Adam had indeed joined them and pulled up a stall on Cephilia's other side. Ace merely grunted and lifted his drink, "Cheers," and downed another whiskey. He coughed a little, the drink was a sipping whiskey but Ace needed to feel that pain and burn down the back of his throat. When Adam saw Cephilia sit down next to a devastated Ace, he wasn’t sure if it was the good or the bad part in him that made him start walking, but he made bloody sure it was the good that made him sit down. “Cheers.” he replied as he downed the last of his beer. After another small pause, he spoke up. “I know you think me a goody two-shoes Ace, and I hope you’re right, but I’ve also seen more death and despair than most people in this bar boast about. So if you want to talk, talk. If you don’t, drink. Either way, I’ll join you.” He put his pint away and drank the other glass of whiskey. In one evening he’s reminded of both his rule not to get drunk and its one exception. Go figure. Greta was already there to fill them up again. “You can leave the bottle Greta. Maybe bring another one.” “Easy there,” Cephilia teased when Adam ordered two bottles. “He can’t even take a punch from a posh rich girl. I’d hate to see what a few more glasses ofthat will do to him.” She slowly swirled her glass of brandy, as if pondering taking a sip, but eventually decided against it. “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret hitting you,” she said to Ace after a pause. “I mean, you did steal a family heirloom. I think a certain degree of punishment was in order.” She turned to look him in the eyes properly. “What I do regret is doing it under false pretenses… and some of the, uhhhmm, unkind words exchanged along the way.” She took a deep breath, chased it with a hearty swig of brandy, and stared down at the bar. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is you’re not the coward I took you for, Ace,” she concluded. “And I still owe you a shirt, by the way. I would surrender mine, but I’m nowhere near drunk enough yet… nor will I ever be.” Ace sighed, but with a tinge of relief in his breath. It had been a long time since he was punished by someone he had actually wronged and well, it caused him to reset his thinking a little. "I appreciate your honesty..." He slurped the whiskey in front of him, "I'm glad you hit me. I wished I'd never stolen that blasted ring - it was the first in a catalogue of poor choices that seemingly led me to Stonehaven." He looked up and stared through the bar, as if watching the sea splash on the nearby coast. His eyes were sunken and he lost himself for a moment in thought. "Stonehaven...what a rotten place. There's no honour among men there and I lost mine there too eventually. Perhaps this far fetched quest for Firebrands treasure has a chance to for me to return to my old ways...at least that what I hoped for anyway. Would you believe me if I told you I was a half decent man once, like Adam here? Well maybe not so just, but eh...close enough." “Need I remind you that I was banished to a cursed, witch-infested island on a charge of high treason?” Adam had just taken his first sip of the whiskey. He wanted to be a whiskey man. He really tried. He just couldn’t help hating the stuff. “For what it’s worth, I never thought of you as less than a half-decent man. Then again, I’m a terrible judge of character.” For a moment, a very cynical smile crossed his face. It was far too true. A gulp of that horrible drink washed away the bad taste left in his mouth.
