The Sanguine and Blackbeard's Cutlass
You eye her long black hair and the onyx beads at her neck.
“So you’re the champion, huh? How’d that happen?” you ask.
Her tanned arms cross against her chest. “And high priestess.”
“Yeah, and that. Aren’t you kind of young to be in those roles?”
“I am the youngest high priestess and the youngest champion ever recorded. No one’s ever been both before,” she says proudly.
Victoria steps up and whispers in your ear. “Captain, I suggest you don’t woo and run out on this one, unless you want your barnacles ground to dust.”
You whisper back, “Thank you for your invaluable input, first mate.” Turning back to Quetzalli you ask, “How did you become champion?”
“The champion can only be a son or daughter of our elders. I see you’ve met the chieftain, my father.” At his mention, you smile nervously at the native who brought you here. She continues, “If the village loses faith in their current champion, they can hold a trial of combat. Anyone who’s born of an elder, and blessed by the high priestess, can enter.”
“Did you bless yourself?” you ask. Freddy snickers in the background.
“I was not high priestess at the time. I defeated the other challengers and the current champion, my brother, and became Quetzalcoatl’s chosen.”
“You took championship from your own brother? I bet he’s not happy about that,” you comment.
“He wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t?”
“When a champion falls out of Quetzalcoatl’s favor, he makes a sacrificial offering to the feathered-serpent. By offering one’s life, a fallen champion can hope to gain honor back.”
“Well, I wish you good luck in staying in favor,” you say.
“If Quetzalcoatl wills it, I will be champion for a long time,” she says with a smile.
“So you’re the champion, huh? How’d that happen?” you ask.
Her tanned arms cross against her chest. “And high priestess.”
“Yeah, and that. Aren’t you kind of young to be in those roles?”
“I am the youngest high priestess and the youngest champion ever recorded. No one’s ever been both before,” she says proudly.
Victoria steps up and whispers in your ear. “Captain, I suggest you don’t woo and run out on this one, unless you want your barnacles ground to dust.”
You whisper back, “Thank you for your invaluable input, first mate.” Turning back to Quetzalli you ask, “How did you become champion?”
“The champion can only be a son or daughter of our elders. I see you’ve met the chieftain, my father.” At his mention, you smile nervously at the native who brought you here. She continues, “If the village loses faith in their current champion, they can hold a trial of combat. Anyone who’s born of an elder, and blessed by the high priestess, can enter.”
“Did you bless yourself?” you ask. Freddy snickers in the background.
“I was not high priestess at the time. I defeated the other challengers and the current champion, my brother, and became Quetzalcoatl’s chosen.”
“You took championship from your own brother? I bet he’s not happy about that,” you comment.
“He wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t?”
“When a champion falls out of Quetzalcoatl’s favor, he makes a sacrificial offering to the feathered-serpent. By offering one’s life, a fallen champion can hope to gain honor back.”
“Well, I wish you good luck in staying in favor,” you say.
“If Quetzalcoatl wills it, I will be champion for a long time,” she says with a smile.