The King's Command
For years you prey upon ships in the Daen Sea. Word had spread throughout Kria of the ‘Mad Pirate King’ uninterested in treasure. Only blood. It didn't matter if the ship flew Rathan or Brelian colors. They all sank. Your piracy disrupted the flow of trade into Brelia. In order to prevent economic collapse, King Urijah surrendered Brelia to a new rising empire across the eastern sea. His surrender was conditional upon the destruction of Miranna. Their joint fleet littered the Daen with nimble schooners and heavily cannoned galleons. Only a small portion of captains remained loyal to you. The ones you didn’t execute turned to privateering. Upon the deck of your brigantine, The Lady’s Reaper, the armada sailed before you.
“Captain! There are too many of them. Shall we turn course?” your first mate, Scully, shouts from the helm.
“What good would that do?” you answer. “The entire Daen is filled with their ships. I will not run like a frightened child. I will end this on my own terms.”
“But Captain, it’s suicide!”
Suddenly, a pistol shot rings out over the deck. The bullet slams into Scully catapulting him backwards.
“Anyone else have reservations about following orders? Good,” Lady Myrr speaks while casually reloading her flintlock pistol.
With the smell of gunpowder in the air, you address the crew.
“For years you have served me faithfully. We have made both Rath and Brelia terrified of the seas. Terrified of you. I have given you wealth, freedom, and a life unrestricted by society’s rules. I ask now that you join me one last time. My fate will not be the gallows. I’m glad they sent an armada. Hunting is easier when the prey gathers before you. Let loose the sails! Bring me more ships to sink!”
The crew cheers and frantically run to their stations. The deck is organized chaos as crewman rush to ready their positions. A heavy wind lies at your back propelling the brigantine to top speed. You take the helm, Lady Myrr alongside you.
“This is not how I imagined things would go when you were first brought to me,” she speaks staring at the multitude of ships before you.
You answer taking a swig of rum, “Urijah is a fool. He surrendered Brelia to an outside ruler. It’s despicable. He would clasp the shackles at his own wrists. For what? To defeat one man? Only a weak man surrenders. The strong man fights until he is physically unable. The body is harder to break than the mind. My brother, The King of Slaves, will learn that the hard way.”
Myrr grabs the bottle from your hand and takes a long drink. Wiping her mouth she answers, “I only hope to take as many of these fucking cunts down. They will experience true pain with my blade at their throat. The last thing they’ll see before I send them to Hell will be my smiling face and their blood on my sword. The skills you taught me years ago will take many lives this day. How naive I use to be. I only regret we didn’t have more time to fuck and drink. The Brelians have robbed us of that and they will be punished for it.”
Cannon blasts echo across the sea. The front line of the armada fire their forward cannons as they move to engage The Lady’s Reaper. All but one miss, knocking an unfortunate crewman overboard with the impact. One of the galleons flies a family crest you recognize: Kane. Spinning the wheel hard to the left, you direct the brigantine towards The Paragon. The ram at your ship’s bow rips through the galleon's hull with a deadening crunch. Before your crew, or even Myrr react, you jump from the helm across to The Paragon.
“Kane! You cock-sucking leech. Where are you?” you scream as your blade sweeps through the poor defense of sailors. Each kill increases your vigor as the blood frenzy continues. A pistol shot slams into your shoulder, only furthering your longing for blood. More enemy crewman gather around you. More lives for you to take.
“I had heard tales of your madness and lust for blood, but seeing it with my own eyes is another thing.”
An older version of Garrick emerges from below deck. You recognize him instantly despite his finely trimmed goatee and grown out shoulder length hair.
“It’s a tale of misfortune. A former prince, swayed by pussy, turned his back on his people. You caused the downfall of Brelia. You are a disgrace. I was there the night of Caitlyn’s death, did you know that? Your brother and I infiltrated Kano’s crew in attempt to rescue you and escape back to Brelia. But you killed her. You fucking killed Caitlyn, you piece of shit. I don’t understand how the royal family of Orson and Urijah could bear a decadent failure like yourself. Your life has been a whirlwind of chaos and it ends now,” he calmly says.
Suppressing fire shoots from the deck of The Lady’s Reaper causing Garrick’s crew to scramble for cover. Lady Myrr lands next you, throwing the rope back to your ship. She gives you a wink, tosses a bottle of rum your way, and ignites the fuse of a grenade. The shrapnel finds unlucky sailors in it’s way. Through the smoke’s cover, you rush towards Garrick. Your sword is a blur as you feint and attack from unconventional angles. You didn’t forget the reputation of Garrick’s dueling ability, which is why you used untraditional sword forms. His defense is a wall. Not even your expertly disguised feints throw him off. His parries send entire shocks through your arm. By honor, mercy, or perhaps a little of both he does not toy with you. His counter-attack is swift, deflecting your sword aside and taking advantage of the opening. Garrick’s broadsword pierces through your chest, driving straight through the back. Dropping to your knees, you see the fallen body of Lady Myrr bleeding out on the deck. You don’t even try crawling her way. Garrick stands above you, resolute, a tinge of sadness at his face. His sword arcs high in the air. You meet his eyes. Finally, you think. Peace.
“Captain! There are too many of them. Shall we turn course?” your first mate, Scully, shouts from the helm.
“What good would that do?” you answer. “The entire Daen is filled with their ships. I will not run like a frightened child. I will end this on my own terms.”
“But Captain, it’s suicide!”
Suddenly, a pistol shot rings out over the deck. The bullet slams into Scully catapulting him backwards.
“Anyone else have reservations about following orders? Good,” Lady Myrr speaks while casually reloading her flintlock pistol.
With the smell of gunpowder in the air, you address the crew.
“For years you have served me faithfully. We have made both Rath and Brelia terrified of the seas. Terrified of you. I have given you wealth, freedom, and a life unrestricted by society’s rules. I ask now that you join me one last time. My fate will not be the gallows. I’m glad they sent an armada. Hunting is easier when the prey gathers before you. Let loose the sails! Bring me more ships to sink!”
The crew cheers and frantically run to their stations. The deck is organized chaos as crewman rush to ready their positions. A heavy wind lies at your back propelling the brigantine to top speed. You take the helm, Lady Myrr alongside you.
“This is not how I imagined things would go when you were first brought to me,” she speaks staring at the multitude of ships before you.
You answer taking a swig of rum, “Urijah is a fool. He surrendered Brelia to an outside ruler. It’s despicable. He would clasp the shackles at his own wrists. For what? To defeat one man? Only a weak man surrenders. The strong man fights until he is physically unable. The body is harder to break than the mind. My brother, The King of Slaves, will learn that the hard way.”
Myrr grabs the bottle from your hand and takes a long drink. Wiping her mouth she answers, “I only hope to take as many of these fucking cunts down. They will experience true pain with my blade at their throat. The last thing they’ll see before I send them to Hell will be my smiling face and their blood on my sword. The skills you taught me years ago will take many lives this day. How naive I use to be. I only regret we didn’t have more time to fuck and drink. The Brelians have robbed us of that and they will be punished for it.”
Cannon blasts echo across the sea. The front line of the armada fire their forward cannons as they move to engage The Lady’s Reaper. All but one miss, knocking an unfortunate crewman overboard with the impact. One of the galleons flies a family crest you recognize: Kane. Spinning the wheel hard to the left, you direct the brigantine towards The Paragon. The ram at your ship’s bow rips through the galleon's hull with a deadening crunch. Before your crew, or even Myrr react, you jump from the helm across to The Paragon.
“Kane! You cock-sucking leech. Where are you?” you scream as your blade sweeps through the poor defense of sailors. Each kill increases your vigor as the blood frenzy continues. A pistol shot slams into your shoulder, only furthering your longing for blood. More enemy crewman gather around you. More lives for you to take.
“I had heard tales of your madness and lust for blood, but seeing it with my own eyes is another thing.”
An older version of Garrick emerges from below deck. You recognize him instantly despite his finely trimmed goatee and grown out shoulder length hair.
“It’s a tale of misfortune. A former prince, swayed by pussy, turned his back on his people. You caused the downfall of Brelia. You are a disgrace. I was there the night of Caitlyn’s death, did you know that? Your brother and I infiltrated Kano’s crew in attempt to rescue you and escape back to Brelia. But you killed her. You fucking killed Caitlyn, you piece of shit. I don’t understand how the royal family of Orson and Urijah could bear a decadent failure like yourself. Your life has been a whirlwind of chaos and it ends now,” he calmly says.
Suppressing fire shoots from the deck of The Lady’s Reaper causing Garrick’s crew to scramble for cover. Lady Myrr lands next you, throwing the rope back to your ship. She gives you a wink, tosses a bottle of rum your way, and ignites the fuse of a grenade. The shrapnel finds unlucky sailors in it’s way. Through the smoke’s cover, you rush towards Garrick. Your sword is a blur as you feint and attack from unconventional angles. You didn’t forget the reputation of Garrick’s dueling ability, which is why you used untraditional sword forms. His defense is a wall. Not even your expertly disguised feints throw him off. His parries send entire shocks through your arm. By honor, mercy, or perhaps a little of both he does not toy with you. His counter-attack is swift, deflecting your sword aside and taking advantage of the opening. Garrick’s broadsword pierces through your chest, driving straight through the back. Dropping to your knees, you see the fallen body of Lady Myrr bleeding out on the deck. You don’t even try crawling her way. Garrick stands above you, resolute, a tinge of sadness at his face. His sword arcs high in the air. You meet his eyes. Finally, you think. Peace.
