The Sanguine and Blackbeard's Cutlass
“Seriously? You think that’ll work?” Jack asks.
“Do you have something better?” you reply. Seeing him shake his head you continue, “When I give you the signal, attack with everything you got.”
“Alright, let’s get to work,” William says.
You silently swing your legs over the balcony and take a deep breath. You judge you’re about 30 feet in the air. Not a fatal height, but rescue missions tend to go better without broken legs. The side wall connecting the balcony to the bottom floor is cracked in several places. Unfortunately, the first crack is just out of reach. You leap forward arms stretch out for the hand hold. Your hands slide into the opening and grip it tightly. The sudden stop of your upper body causes your lower half to take the bulk of the momentum. You bend your knees slightly to absorb the impact without making a sound. You look down to see if anyone notices your acrobatics. All the hooded figures are still focused on their prayer. Now that the hard part’s done, you climb down to the lower floor.
The lone figure at the back of the room has your attention. Keeping in the shadows, you sneak behind them. Your arms lock around their neck in a choke. As they struggle, you secure your hand behind their head tightening the grip. You eat a pointy elbow in the gut, but remain firm on the pressure. As your target flails, you catch sight of a flash of purple. Instantly, you release the choke and flip back the hood. Your face catches a fist in response to giving up the superior position.
“Victoria?” you whisper. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing? You scared me shitless,” she whispers back.
“Saving those two,” you say pointing at the cages. “Where’s the rest of your group?”
“Didn’t make it.”
“Jack, William, and I are all that’s left of mine. They’re in position to attack once I signal. How’d you get past Xolotl anyway?”
“Now’s not the time. There’s something happening. Look,” she gestures towards the altar.
A lone figure silently steps towards the altar. The robed people in the room separate allowing a pathway. The figure is unlike the others in the room. He wears a black robe instead of red. The edges of the robe are blurred at first sight, but then you realize black smoke is emanating from the robe. Pistols line the figure’s chest and limbs and the tips of his beard are lit with small flames. You recognize the figure.
“Is that--” Victoria starts.
“Edward Teach. Blackbeard,” you answer.
Blackbeard takes center stage and addresses the room.
“It seems we’ve caught ourselves a couple of thieves looking for Quetzalcoatl’s blade. Unfortunately for them, the blade has not tasted blood in quite a while. What do you say, men? Should we feed the thirsty blade?”
A cheer echoes throughout the room. You realize the red robed figures must be Blackbeard’s crew. Whatever power is binding Teach to this place, binds them as well. Ignited by their captain, the crew abandons their stoic, religious demeanor.
“I say we let them fight to the death then sacrifice the survivor! Quetzalcoatl deserves a worthy sacrifice,” one man near the altar shouts.
“No, sacrifice them both. The blade thirsts for blood,” another suggests.
The room erupts into a frenzy of disagreeing ideas between the crew to the amusement of Blackbeard. He gives a wink to a caged Procter after someone shouts the idea “cut out their beating hearts.” Finally, he raises his arms to settle the dispute.
“I have decided. We will sacrifice both in the old way. Bring me the knife!”
“Do you have something better?” you reply. Seeing him shake his head you continue, “When I give you the signal, attack with everything you got.”
“Alright, let’s get to work,” William says.
You silently swing your legs over the balcony and take a deep breath. You judge you’re about 30 feet in the air. Not a fatal height, but rescue missions tend to go better without broken legs. The side wall connecting the balcony to the bottom floor is cracked in several places. Unfortunately, the first crack is just out of reach. You leap forward arms stretch out for the hand hold. Your hands slide into the opening and grip it tightly. The sudden stop of your upper body causes your lower half to take the bulk of the momentum. You bend your knees slightly to absorb the impact without making a sound. You look down to see if anyone notices your acrobatics. All the hooded figures are still focused on their prayer. Now that the hard part’s done, you climb down to the lower floor.
The lone figure at the back of the room has your attention. Keeping in the shadows, you sneak behind them. Your arms lock around their neck in a choke. As they struggle, you secure your hand behind their head tightening the grip. You eat a pointy elbow in the gut, but remain firm on the pressure. As your target flails, you catch sight of a flash of purple. Instantly, you release the choke and flip back the hood. Your face catches a fist in response to giving up the superior position.
“Victoria?” you whisper. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing? You scared me shitless,” she whispers back.
“Saving those two,” you say pointing at the cages. “Where’s the rest of your group?”
“Didn’t make it.”
“Jack, William, and I are all that’s left of mine. They’re in position to attack once I signal. How’d you get past Xolotl anyway?”
“Now’s not the time. There’s something happening. Look,” she gestures towards the altar.
A lone figure silently steps towards the altar. The robed people in the room separate allowing a pathway. The figure is unlike the others in the room. He wears a black robe instead of red. The edges of the robe are blurred at first sight, but then you realize black smoke is emanating from the robe. Pistols line the figure’s chest and limbs and the tips of his beard are lit with small flames. You recognize the figure.
“Is that--” Victoria starts.
“Edward Teach. Blackbeard,” you answer.
Blackbeard takes center stage and addresses the room.
“It seems we’ve caught ourselves a couple of thieves looking for Quetzalcoatl’s blade. Unfortunately for them, the blade has not tasted blood in quite a while. What do you say, men? Should we feed the thirsty blade?”
A cheer echoes throughout the room. You realize the red robed figures must be Blackbeard’s crew. Whatever power is binding Teach to this place, binds them as well. Ignited by their captain, the crew abandons their stoic, religious demeanor.
“I say we let them fight to the death then sacrifice the survivor! Quetzalcoatl deserves a worthy sacrifice,” one man near the altar shouts.
“No, sacrifice them both. The blade thirsts for blood,” another suggests.
The room erupts into a frenzy of disagreeing ideas between the crew to the amusement of Blackbeard. He gives a wink to a caged Procter after someone shouts the idea “cut out their beating hearts.” Finally, he raises his arms to settle the dispute.
“I have decided. We will sacrifice both in the old way. Bring me the knife!”