Chapter VII: Tomorrow
The deck was amok with rum lightened sailors. The pirates, adorned in dark tattered clothing and wearing unwieldy manes of facial hair, were a raggedly fearsome sight, but their attitudes were those of life loving schoolboys. "Alright boys," said the captain kindly as he tried to calm the chorus of A Pirate Named Fleddermauss, "You all know my mate, Cyloncrius…" another yell of reckless joy filled the air but was again stifled by the captains gloved hand, "The ol' chap should be waitin' for us on shore. You all know a battle's ahead…you know that lives 'l be lost," the captain paused as he cast an utterly solemn glare towards the foggy sky, but slowly a sly smile parted his lips, "But you know the king," the captain raised his voice from a whisper to a hearty shout. He yelled with emphatically spread arms, "He'll be waitin' with open arms an' a fresh supply of bandit brew!" A huge cry of contentment rose from the ship and drifted off into the air as the men merrily struck up their song once again.
The seven black ships, on which the pirates sailed, partied, and all the while pillaged, sliced silently through the dark murky water that flowed through to the entrance of Greatwood. Each ship was as dark as the water through which it sailed, and its sails fluttered like dark rain clouds in the raspy wind. Upon each ship were massive ballistae loaded with thick black missiles ready to impale any foe. The decks were lit by lanterns that glowed in the coming dusk, and cast fleeting shadows of the ships passengers onto the murky water. Yet in spite of the hellish look of the pirate ships, the fearsome men on board walked about merrily enjoying their beer and awaiting the arrival on land.
The captain leaned against the bow of the ship and gazed out into the dark, foggy distance searching for a sign of his comrades on shore. The outline of the tall trees could be seen ahead as the ship neared land. Finally a small light appeared, penetrating the fog. "There they are boys," the captain declared as he marched to the ships wheel and precisely angled the vessels course. The captain let forth smile accompanied by a chuckle of approval as he thought of Cyloncrius awaiting him. As the ship anchored itself near the bank of the river all smiles, chuckles and any signs of merriment were gone. The captain was not greeted by a band of merry bandits. The remaining group of bandits stared blankly at the pirates. All of them were pale, and seemingly lifeless. Many were covered in dry blood, and all showed signs of vicious battles. The captain, along with a few other pirates lept into the river and waded to shore. Cyloncrius, the worst sight of them all, greeted them. The front of his clothes and armor were drenched in blood, and the cut on his neck from which the blood came was becoming horribly infected. His face had a huge bruise on one side, his arm had a deep cut from his wrist to his elbow, and he walked with a slight limp. Cyloncrius looked at his pirate friend with a horrifying glare. The kings eyes showed utter fear. He seemed deathly afraid of something. He tried to say something to the pirate through his eyes, as he stood fixated on the captain, but it was not quite clear. The bandit king walked closer to him murmuring something, but that was all he could do. The captain looked over the huddled king to look at the shady figure beside the distant fire. Tarus sat toying with his dagger while looking into the flames. His face bore a cut under his ever-fearsome eyes. Cyloncrius grabbed the captain tightly with a shaky grip and pulled him nose to nose. He winced as he made a desperate effort to speak. He finally made out one word, "Run."
"My good captain," Tarus said as he rose from his perch and approached the pirate, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show." Cyloncrius hurriedly backed away from the captain, daring not say more, while keeping his senses fixated fearfully on the conversation. "I made it without difficulty," the captain spoke plainly but a nervous air was within him. "Come now my friend do not fear," Tarus on the other hand spoke heartily and with a smile on his face. Tarus could sense the fear in the captain, it was a basic skill that he had. It was in the eyes. The eyes are a window to the soul, Tarus had learned that and used it to his advantage. He could see the fear, joy, grief, in anyone, whereas his own eyes showed only one feeling: a pure, passionate hate. A malice that had thought behind it, a malevolence that was not guided by recklessness. Pure unadulterated hate.
"Come my friend have a drink." Tarus walked to a supply wagon not yet unveiled to any bandit. The pirates on the incoming ship let out a "YAR" of delight at the sight of twenty massive barrels of rum. The bandits winced at he sight of their sudden revealing of alcohol that had been hidden from them. The pirates drank their fill. This was their payment for the so-called "small battle" ahead. Tarus could now be assured that his new friends would be utterly devoted. His new bands of drunkards were bought as easily as the old.
Tarus watched the shore atop a boulder with pride as the ships were finishing their unloading process. First came a horde of pirates who walked to shore on a temporary bridge that extended from the ships and onto the riverbank. The pirate's minds were fierce, their arms were strong, and their curved blades were sharp. They were a fantastic fighting force. They were all adorned in dark clothes, ragged and torn from years of battles in far off lands. Their black beards were long and some were worn in foreign styles, odd yet fearsome. Not only was their bare appearance terrifying, but their weaponry was also a hellish sight. They wielded astonishing implements of war. The weapons' curves and shapes were beautiful, in a blood lusting, death ridden way. Some wielded basic sabers, some swords and various blades stolen from other lands, but some men's weaponry was ingeniously made. Weapons with blades jutting out from all sides, hilts with complex rotating parts that swung about prepared to cleanly dismember the helpless opposition, and brutal clubs intertwined with chains and spikes as sharp as thorns. Even the archers were wielding cunning devices. The bows were made from the finest fletchers. They were crafted with unsurpassed skill, and their arrows were tipped with heavy steel tips. Some bows were even mounted with blades, just in case a nearby enemy needed to be…dispatched.
The force that had already departed from the ships was enough to overthrow Bowerstone twice over, but more militants were coming. Tarus' face lit up as he saw pirate siege weaponry depart the ships. Catapults, siege ladders, and ballistae were wheeled out across the bridge and onto shore. They were made of dark stained wood, and even when not demolishing a fortress they were a fearsome sight to behold. The wall of Bowerstone could be etched away, but the gate must be penetrated. For this a battering ram would be needed. Out it came. A massive example of masterful weapon craft. The battering ram itself was made out of a single massive oak, which hung from thick chains that connected the ram to a frame. The ram was surrounded by a small structure, rendering it safe from archers. It was a flawless piece of work. Even with allies, the city would fall.
"I take it I don't need to ask about your approval," the captain stepped up to Tarus' side. Tarus nodded in response. The captain paused for a moment, "M'lord? About the ol' kingly fellow…what's gotten into 'is head?" Tarus explained the events that had led to Cyloncrius' nature, and his unsightly appearance, while adding in small tidbits of his own and maybe a lie or two. The captain responded with a joke said in a grim way, "That's like the ol' dog. Good chap when he's sober." "Yes," Tarus spoke softly as he recalled the past and scrutinized his army all at once, "It has been a rough journey. It gets to your head, you know." The captain nodded in affirmation, "I guess the battles tomorrow, eh? We aren't that far from Bowerstone."
"No we are not."
The conversation continued ever so casually in complete contrast to the sight of horrendous armies marching to shore and preparing their beddings. A calm, cold night was approaching.
The scene was not a riotous cluster of drunken merriment. The men were tired. They calmly ate their meals and sparingly sipped on the rum bestowed on them as they calmly sat around campfires. The captain made his rounds to each group spreading words of encouragement. Cyloncrius was huddled with a few men trying to warm themselves as the captain approached. The captain looked pitifully at the king who sat hunched over miserably while staring blankly into the flames. The captain put his hand on his shoulder, "Eat, drink, and be merry boys."
The pirates, as well as the bandits, were not evil men. Their occupations were questionable, but in comparison to Tarus they were innocent. They were pawns to him; men caught up in something of which they knew nothing. The bandits were driven by fear, and the pirates by ale and their promise to serve. They may die tomorrow. They may live. For now they cared nothing of the next day. Now they only wanted the small favor of a warm meal, and some rest. To the men, tomorrow did not matter.
Tarus had a tent to himself. He walked in and sat on a warm fur blanket. He sat a moment, and then reached for the sword at his side. It made a crisp ring when drawn. The black blade seemed ever darker. The sword sensed coming blood. It sent a small surge through Tarus. The power felt amazing. He rose with the sword in hand, and readied himself in attack position. The sword flew, and twirled about viciously, all the while singing its glorious song. The fury built in Tarus. The power grew. He spun the sword faster and faster as the sword sung ever louder. Power. Power was all he felt. He almost cleaved the man at his door into, but came out of his frenzy quickly. "M'lord?" The captain stood partially confused, and partially astonished, "Just bidding you well." Tarus stood panting. The captain shrugged, "Nice knife ya got there. G'night." Once the captain had left Tarus looked again at the sword before sheathing it and putting it away in the corner of his tent. Tomorrow, he thought. Finally, after all of the small battles, and the futile skirmishes. Tomorrow the war really began. Tomorrow.
REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I was inspired to write about the pirates because in the game you see a few ships anchored off shore that look pretty menacing. When I played I thought, "Are those pirates?" and wondered about a possible storyline. The almighty Sir Dik Dik is like the only one who does all the reviewing so make his job easier.
Know this:
The end is near.