Prologue
Sheamus O'Clery hauled to port on the wheel. HMS Firefly responded obediently. Being a veteran sailor of 25 years, Sheamus knew his way around a storm, but this was unlike he had ever seen before. Rogue waves smashed against the hull, wild winds forced him to constantly change direction to counter them and water spouts attacked them periodically. Even the most sure footed sailors lost their footing. One minute they would be heaving the rigging, and then a wave would soar over the railings and the sailor, only for the sailor to disappear, swept away into the seething ocean. But Sheamus was the helmsman. To lose him was to lose control of HMS Firefly. He had to hold on.
He went to his happy place. He thought of his daughter, Jae, only 4 years old. He couldn't think of losing her, or her losing him. He still hadn't told her of her heritage. Her mother couldn't bear to and he was away too much and never found the opportunity to tell her. He didn't want to. He didn't want her dragged into this mess. This was his and his wife's burden to bear. He wouldn't tell her...
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a large wave slamming into his chest. He glanced round the deck. So few men were now on-board that even the captain was on deck, lugging the rigging taut. Glimpsing around to see if he could spy a break in the storm, he spotted a red sail! No. It couldn't have been. He must have imagined it. But wait! There it was again. It was headed straight towards them, starboard side. He tensed up. 'Pirates!' he thought.
As the ship steadily got closer, he relaxed. He knew the markings, he knew the ship and he knew the captain. He signalled to the remainder of the crew, "Friendly ship ahoy! Starboard side!" The crew charged to the starboard so swiftly that for a fleeting moment, Sheamus feared they would keel the boat.
The storm began to subside. The waves became smaller and smaller and the winds were beginning to die down. As the friendly ship pulled alongside the Firefly, Sheamus gave the wheel to a less experienced sailor, who miraculously managed to remain on board during the storm, and Sheamus trusted him enough to hold the wheel steady whilst he spoke with his friend. Sheamus' friend leapt from the deck of his ship to the Firefly with ease, his cloth mask concealing the lower portion of his face.
"Come, come friend. There is no need for secrecy. You trust me, don't you?" Sheamus urged.
His friend remained silent as his men joined him on the deck of the Firefly, surprisingly heavily armed.
"We need timber to repair the damage done during the storm. Can you spare any?" Sheamus continued, trying to stay calm. His instinct kicked in. He and the crew of the Firefly were outnumbered by the other crew, 5 to 1. He and the crew also had no armour on and no weapons except their customary swords and the dagger that Sheamus carried with him where ever he went. He was thinking irrationally. This was his trusted friend and had been for many years. He would never do that. Yet his numbers and preparation for battle was indeed very menacing.
He had to tread carefully, something was amiss.
Before Sheamus could speak again, the masked warrior plunged his customary dagger into Sheamus' gut, not killing but mortally wounding him. Before the crew of the Firefly could react to the sudden strike against their helmsman, the masked warrior stabbed another through the heart and slashed another's throat. His crew swiftly killed the rest... except the captain. Being a veteran of many battles himself, he alone reacted quick enough to put up a fight. He engaged the masked warrior himself, the opposing crew not intervening in the deadly duel. The captain attempted an overhead slice at the warrior, utilising the rebound of his opponent's block to go for a side slice, but to his surprise, his opponent staggered back from the overhead blow and, seizing the opportunity, lunged forwards to run him through. At the last second, he realised his mistake. His opponent had tricked him. The masked man calmly stepped to one side and used his opponent's momentum to run him though himself. As the life faded from the captain's eyes, the hooded warrior approached Sheamus once more; Sheamus muttered "you cheating bas-" He was cut off as his throat was slashed open, his lungs flooding with his own blood as he breathed his last. His last thought was of Jae. Poor, poor Jae.
Finally, the hooded man spoke. "Leave the bodies where they are. They'll wash up somewhere." He ordered, his voice deep and gruff, with no remorse. He and his men returned to their ship. 'The Fox' sailed into the night, not one of the crew even glanced back at the now desolate 'Firefly.'
On that night, murders swept across the known earth. From the vast forests of early Russia to the hostile lands of the natives in colonial America, brother turned against brother. Men were found stabbed and abandoned in dark alleyways, some with their throats slit in their sleep, others dead at taverns with poison in their veins.
Many called these 'incidents' the 'war of extinction,' others called them the 'great betrayal.' Only one thing was certain anymore, trust no one. As a lowly farmer cannot trust a cattle thief, present no opportunity for treachery. It was these principles that led to the complete downfall of this faction that stretched their ranks so thin that were later removed from the history books altogether. This once great order became nothing more than a foot note in history. Now, they are only spoken about in tales and song, their meanings long forgotten. For history, they were gone. But deep in the gutters of the world that changed around them, they lived on.