The Third Life: The Running Frenchman

Sorry, was celebrating with my family.

Thank you everyone for your happy wishes and your Reviews, and thank you for getting us to 1k Followers. Now we're 45 away from 1k Favs, and 14 Reviews from 1.1k.

This chapter is about the Templar hunt in Nassau with the brothers and the Orient pirate, so Google it for more info, or just continue reading. After that, we're finally going to get to see some naval combat, and there's a little surprise this chapter.

Hint: Faris dealt with Greeks, Virgil dealt with Romans…as per PJO Universe canon, who else is left?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Inspired by historical events and over-active imagination, this work of fiction was designed, developed, and produced by a single-cultural team of one religious faith and belief, sexual orientation, and gender identity.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nassau

November 7, 1715

"Ah, it's my baby!" Jake sighed upon seeing his Running Frenchman moored at the docks.

The big bitch looked as pristine as when the young pirate had docked it.

"Think your crew is still around?" Edward asked.

"Of course. If I had to guess, they've taken over the island and are keeping her out of British and Spanish hands."

"You think so?"

"I don't see a British flag over the Old Fort no more."

Edward looked, and he saw that indeed there was no British flag. He whistled. "That's quite the crew, mate."

"Ha! Wait till you see 'em in action, Kenway."

Edward had the anchors lowered, and he basically parked the Jackdaw about forty feet from the shore.

"All ashore that's going to shore!" Kenway called.

Rowboats were lowered, and the crew rowed to land.

On the beach, Jake hummed. "Funny, from this angle, looks like our ships are the same length, but mine is definitely taller and wider."

"And slower," Edward smirked.

"And more powerful. And more durable. And with a bigger cargo gold. And with more ammo. Yeah, she'll take a steaming dump all over yours, Kenway."

"Ship's only as good as her crew, mate."

Jake blinked. "…she'll still take a steaming dump all over you."

Edward huffed. "Let's just go find this Assassin and get that bloody key."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Travers brothers, Upton and Vance, being hunted by the Templar woman Jing Lang—Jake just called her Jing-a-Ling. The short story was the classic jealous brother scenario, lovestruck and easy to manipulate. After killing the man Vance hired to kill his big brother, Edward gave Upton some words of advice, and after the Assassin left, Jake scoffed.

"This is why I don't like the Assassins. They pull shit like this on each other and it's just counterproductive."

"Eh, I'm just here for the key. This secret war doesn't make a difference to me."

"And for some reason, that indifference just pisses me off even more."

The evening came, and the pirates found Upton drunk at a tavern.

"Oh, boy," Jake muttered. "Let's go get him before he eats his teeth."

"Come now, mate," Edward grinned. "Why not enjoy a quick brawl for the night?"

"You want that damn key so bad, and Upton is your only link to Vance."

Edward's grin was wiped off his face. "Dammit."

"Have at it, mate."

The fist fight was short, with Edward's skill with his knuckles being as good as that with his swords. After the fight, Edward was now edgy. "Come on, man. Let's get you somewhere safe."

"You er meh fwend," Upton slurred in his drunken state. "C'meer, ahl kill you."

Edward was hesitant to grab the Assassin, because this man had skills and knowledge of combat that escaped the pirate, and the last thing he wanted was to touch Upton, and then not be fast enough to avoid the Hidden Blade.

Jake had no such reservations.

He walked right up to Upton, and punched the man directly in the center of his chest, nailing his solar plexus. Now, hitting that area was iffy, as it could do anything from just hurt, to kill you, as striking the solar plexus was like striking the diaphragm itself, and overstimulating the nerve bundles in the area would cause the muscle to lock up, effectively suffocating a person…or it just knocked the wind out of you.

In this specific case, it was the simple and classic happening of being knocked out.

Jake hefted the Assassin, and dumped him into Edward's care. "I believe this is yours, mate. You carry it."

Edward frowned, but shouldered Upton anyway. "Carry him where, exactly?"

"You're the one that can find things just by looking for them. I believe they glow gold."

Edward blinked. "How do you know about that?"

"Because I can do it too," Jake grinned.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now, where are we going?"

Edward activated Eagle Vision, and saw the building that shined brilliantly. "There it is. Let's go."

Jake followed Edward, and there was this faint hissing noise that they both heard. The younger chortled too quietly for the older to hear, and Edward asked, "Do you hear something, mate? Like pouring water?"

"Yes."

"…well? Where's it coming from?"

"Upton's pissing on you," Jake said deviously.

Edward dropped the man like he had caught fire, and saw that the Assassin had indeed been urinating in his sleep, which meant he had been urinating on Edward's shoulder. The pirate hadn't felt it due to the light armor he was wearing.

He rounded on Jake. "Why the hell didn't you say anything!?"

"Didn't realize," Jake said smoothly.

"Bastard," Edward accused.

"Okay, pot."

"What?"

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase: the pot calling the kettle black?"

Edward blinked. "No."

"Well, now you have. I think Upton's done, so you can pick him up and carry him now."

"I am not touching him again. Look what he did to my clothes!" Edward furiously indicated the dark stains trailing down his outfit.

Jake frowned. "Seriously? You've been wearing that thing for weeks now. Fighting in it, sleeping in it, sailing in it, sweating in it, and getting other men's blood all over it, and you're really worried about some pee?"

Edward's eyes darted off to the side as he took all of that in, and compared it to a little spot of urine. His eyes darted back. "Yes."

Jake let out a loud single bark of a laugh. "I guess it is true what they say: God is great, rum is good, and people are crazy!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Early, early in the morning, Upton's system cleared out the grog, and he was in fit condition. He revealed Vance's location in the swamp, north of the harbor, and Edward and Jake went there. They climbed through the bountiful trees, avoiding the smugglers and thugs on the ground, and they found Vance at the back of the swamp. Edward killed the man.

"Traitor!" Vance accused Edward, referencing their earlier collusion.

"You can't betray those you never loved," Kenway said. After he said it, his eyes became downcast as a revelation struck him. He looked back at the dying Assassin. "It takes one to know one."

Vance's life finally left him.

Another voice sounded. "I told him not to hire you! Traitor! I will not meet the same fate!"

Jing-a-Ling turned to run, which would begin a chase through the trees, and that was something Edward was not having. He popped a pistole and put a bullet in the woman's back, bringing her down before she could take two steps.

Jake raised a brow, detecting the aura around Edward.

He joined the pirate in hearing the Templar's last words.

"Imagine," Jing-a-Ling coughed. "The queen of pirates defeated for a fake map. I have been arrogant."

Edward tilted his head slightly, making his hood cast a shadow over the whole of his face.

"I stole the real one, and gave it to my husband," the Oriental woman said.

"Your husband?"

"A better man than these fools…"

With that Jing Lang died, and Edward took the key from around her neck.

Jake snorted. "This is why I don't like the Templars. They do shit like this and it's just counterproductive."

Edward hummed.

"You okay, mate? You're off."

"Aye."

"Thinking about betrayal and love, are we?"

"…aye."

"Thinking about your wife."

Edward nodded. "Aye."

"You're a free man, mate," Jake said, hints of sarcasm present. "Why don't you exercise some of that freedom and sail to England?"

"I don't know if I could face her again."

"Only one way to find out."

Edward examined the dirt.

"Ah, but we're pirates, mate! Attachment and responsibility are beneath us. We sail where we want and do as we please. We have no time for commitment or dwelling on the past. I believe you said you wanted to see the Running Frenchman in action."

Edward nodded, the distraction of Jake's ship being taken as a great escape from the turmoil of his thoughts.

"Then let's go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Edward and Adéwalé were permitted to board the Running Frenchman; the rest of the Jackdaw's crew was given leave until their return from the voyage, which Edward had honestly forgotten.

"What were we going to do again?"

Jake grinned from the wheel. "Take on the Brothers-in-Arms, the HMS Fearless and her sister the Royal Sovereign."

Edward paled and Adéwalé would have paled if his skin allowed that.

"Ah, what?" Kenway asked.

"We're off to sink a couple of really big boats."

"Ah, not to question you, captain," Adéwalé said, showing respect for Jake's position, "but can this ship and her crew handle that?"

The former slave was then on the receiving end of many stares. Aside from the sound of waves, the Running Frenchman was silent. Adéwalé coughed awkwardly.

"Mr. Biggs," Jake addressed his first mate.

"Aye, Cap'n?"

"Please educate our guests as to just what the hell they're sailing on."

"Aye, Cap'n! Follow me, gents!"

Mr. Biggs was an average man, with white sideburns that led down to a chinstrap beard. The hair on his head was black and tied back into a small ponytail. His face was weathered, worn, and tan, all marks of an experienced seaman. He was broad-shouldered and tall enough to command respect, wearing an outfit designed for sailing.

"Here in the aft we have two swivel-mounted six-pounders on both the port and starboard sides, along with four more near the prow. The Running Frenchman has two gun decks, the main deck you're walking on, and the lower deck right beneath. On the main deck we have twelve 36-pound carronades on each side, and below are twenty 68-pound hull busting mammas on each side."

Edward and Adéwalé's eyes threatened to fall from their heads at learning that the Running Frenchman had sixty-four guns, not counting the eight swivels. Beyond that, the guns this ship had were huge, especially when compared to the Jackdaw's main armament of 24-pounders.

"She can fire regular round shot, chain shot, heated shot, heavy shot, grape shot, double shot, and langrage," Mr. Biggs continued. "Her hull is heavy oak, and on the inside, she's reinforced with iron plates, perfect for taking all kinds of a beating. Up here we have our mortars."

Edward and Adéwalé were once again stunned to the soles of their boots at seeing the six gold-plated mortar units near the prow. The Jackdaw only had room for two, and they certainly weren't as glorious as these.

"And below our feet are three long nine chase cannons. In the cargo hold we can haul three thousand standard crates of rum and sugar, and three thousand standard crates of metal, wood, and cloth, and the berthing area can house two hundred sailors, though we only need a fourth as many to keep her floating nicely. Any questions?"

"So," Edward started, "this ship has sixty-four broadside guns, eight swivel guns, six mortar cannons, six long nines, half a dozen kinds of shot, and internal iron plating?"

"Oh, that reminds me: we also have an iron-plated ram under the bowsprit."

"And you have a ram," Kenway said. "Along with a cargo hold several thousand strong."

"Aye," Mr. Biggs said proudly.

"This…this isn't…" Edward couldn't form the words. "This isn't a ship! This is a floating garrison!"

"Aye!" Mr. Biggs declared proudly.

Edward turned back to the con, a twitching eye at the sight of the boy pirate standing there with a large grin on his face. After making his way back to the wheel, the blonde was on the receiving end of a little jingle.

"Mine's bigger than yours~, mine's bigger than yours~."

"Well, at least I know how to use mine," Edward returned.

"Yeah, poorly. You can barely handle the little ones, but I can handle the bigger, more experienced ones."

"Gentlemen," Adéwalé broke in before more could be said. "Perhaps we should focus on sailing, instead of bickering."

"See, Edward? He's got the right idea."

"Fuck off."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Captain!" a voice called form the crow's nest. "Ships in the distance! One with a white hull, and the other black!"

"Aye, there they are!" Jake's eyes gleamed maliciously. "All hands to battle stations! Load cannons with heavy shot! Arm the long nines! Prepare the mortars! Move, move!"

Someone rang the bell, and the Running Frenchman erupted with action as the crew set about their orders and duties. Edward and Adéwalé were both impressed with the displayed efficiency, but they were both grabbing the railing with white-knuckled grips.

Adéwalé saw the Mr. Biggs was holding a pair of objects. In the man's left hand was a thin staff about three feet long, and in the right was a curved object carved with symbols. "What are those, man?"

"Oh, these? This is my staff," Mr. Biggs raised the left object, "and my wand," he raised the right object. "I use them to cast magic."

"Magic?" Adéwalé asked incredulously.

He received a wink. "Watch and learn, my friend."

On the horizon two behemoths of a pair of ships came barreling down on the Running Frenchman. The white ship, the HMS Royal Sovereign, and her sister, the HMS Fearless, colored black. They were big, each a hundred and eighty feet long and fifty feet wide, with their masts towering above the waves, each adorned with a massive plume of sails.

"Blimey, Jake! You'd better have a good plan in mind for this shite!"

"Oh, put a sock in it, yellow-belly!" Jake retorted. "Mortars! Half and half!"

Three fired a full shelling on the Royal Sovereign, and the other three a full shelling on the Fearless to open up the game. The artillery sailed through the air and broke apart above their targets, peppering both with hot shrapnel. The men-o'-war were hardly phased by the attack, and they came in hard and fast.

"Captain! A boxing maneuver!" Mr. Biggs observed.

"Aye! They want to be on either side of us, then let them! All guns prepare to fire! Mr. Biggs, do the thing on your best judgement!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Edward and Adéwalé both shared a pensive look at Jake's strategy, and they were both left in the dark about what 'the thing' was.

"Swivels! Aim for the masts!"

The British ships lined up on either side of the Running Frenchman, and she went speeding right between them.

So many things happened at once that Edward couldn't fully process all of it. He heard the tremendous den of hundreds of cannons going off. He smelled the acrid mark of gunpowder in the air. He heard some phrase close by, but he couldn't fully make it out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a massive hallucination taking the form of a wall of transparent light, the enemy cannonballs seemingly shattering against it.

Then he blinked, and the Running Frenchman was zooming forward.

"Reload! Reload!" Jake was shouting.

Looking behind them, Adéwalé and Edward saw that the Brothers-in-Arms had been deeply scared. Their main masts had been chopped at the base, and had fallen to the water. Their broadsides were full of holes and dents. Fires littered the decks. The two pirates shared a flabbergasted look.

"Ready to bark, sir!" a gunner called.

Jack wheeled the Running Frenchman to his port side, lining up the Royal Sovereign. "Fire!"

Edward and Adéwalé were treated to another round of deafening cadence as thirty-two guns went off at once, the twenty 68-pound monsters and the twelve 36-pounders. The massive ordinance tore into the white ship's hull, shredding wood like it was paper.

Jake kept turning his ship, aiming his bowsprit at an angle. "Ramming speed!"

The Running Frenchman sped up exponentially, and the most terrifying thing happened: Jake's galleon ripped the Royal Sovereign's ass apart. The whole aft section of the ship was shattered by the Running Frenchman's iron ram, and like a well-trained linebacker, the ship kept muscling through, making the British man-o'-war spin in the water. With the entire stern battered clean off, the Royal Sovereign's guts were exposed, and water flooded in.

"Mortars!" Jake roared, and the Fearless was peppered by the airborne projectiles.

Without either of their main masts, the legendary ships were much slower, but not stationary. The Fearless had sailed a fair distance away while Jake had crippled the Royal Sovereign, and it worked negatively in the Brit's favor. The distance created room for another broadside, and Jake once again displayed the awesome might of his ship's many guns, this time ruining the Fearless' port side.

"Sir! Powder barrels exposed!"

Indeed, the cannonballs had peeled away enough of the British ship's magazine storage to reveal her collection of ammunition.

"Mr. Biggs!" Jake called. "Do your thing."

"Aye, Cap'n!"

The man pointed his staff and uttered two syllables:

"Ha-di."

The Fearless exploded.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Edward and Adéwalé were too shocked to question anything after that display. They didn't even say anything when Jake paddled the Running Frenchman back to the Royal Sovereign and picked up as many survivors that wanted to be saved from the wreckage of their sinking ship.

The pirates of the Jackdaw didn't even say anything when Jake started issuing a monologue to the rescued sailors.

"Welcome to the Running Frenchman. I am the captain, Jake Swallow, and this is my crew. We are terribly sorry for blowing up your boats and killing your comrades, but they are in a better place now…granted they accepted Jesus and repented for their sins…or believed in Ra…or in Zeus—they might be in Elysium…I don't know. Religion is weird. As for all of you, in return for your lives I demand a service in return-"

"You pirate bastard!" some brave individual yelled. "You killed my brother!"

Jake zoomed in real close to this British sailor's nose. "Did he believe in Jaysus?"

"W-What?"

"Did he. Believe in. Jaysus?"

"W-Well y-yes…"

Jake stood erect. "Well then, I don't see why you're complaining. Your brother is now in Heaven, free of all the trouble and turmoil and woes of our mortal world. He no longer has to worry about pirates, taxes, diseases, marriage, or scurvy. If I were you mate, I'd be celebrating my brother's passing on to that beautiful place of golden streets, while despairing over the fact that I'm stuck here on a pirate ship."

The sailor was at a loss for words.

"Then again," Jake pulled a pistol, "if you miss him that much, I can reunite you."

He said it so casually, like discussing a time and date for lunch.

"While we're on the subject—hey! Anyone wanna die and go to Heaven?" Jake asked loudly enough to be heard up and down the deck. "The alternative is that you do something for me."

There were a bunch of nodded heads and muttered consents to death, and Jake gave the nod. Dozens of fresh corpses were tossed overboard to the sharks, and the remaining people didn't what to feel about themselves.

"Before we go any further, is the captain somewhere around here, or did he die?" Jake asked.

"A cannonball took his head off," a sailor answered.

"Really? Damn. Alright, listen up: you all chose life which means you owe me, and I'm collecting immediately. We will be sailing back to Nassau in about ten minutes, after I finish telling all of you what's up, and getting you all in the brig—don't worry, I keep it clean. So, when we get back, I'm going to let you all go free to find your fellow British, and tell them about this event, how Jake Swallow and his illustrious crew of the Running Frenchman, took down the Brother-in-Arms all by themselves…" Jake tilted his head. "You know, since all ships are referred to as 'she' and 'her,' shouldn't they be called the Sisters-in-Arms?"

"Waitwaitwait, hold up," a British sailor said. "You're going to let us all live, take us back to an inhabited island—a well-known one—and let us go so we can tell others about you?"

"Aye."

The sailor's lids fluttered in incomprehension. "You are without a doubt the worst pirate I've never heard of!"

"Ah, but now you have heard of me," Jake said with a grin.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sailing back to Nassau, Edward and Adéwalé were still speechless.

"Hey, you two okay?" Jake snapped his fingers in front of their faces. "Hello~?"

With no response still from either pirate, the boy shrugged and punched Edward across the jaw, and held Adéwalé's nose shut until he flinched and started coughing.

"What just happened?" Edward said, popping to his feet.

"We sank the Fearless and the Royal Sovereign," Jake answered.

"Yes, I remember that…I think. What I meant was what happened? I blanked out and suddenly I'm on the deck and my cheek hurts."

"Yes, we rammed into the Fearless and you were knocked down by the impact. I was beginning to worry you had hit your head and were dead.

"Ah…"

"Hey, that reminds me…" Jake let a little whistle, and something came fluttering down from above.

It was a little bird that lit on Jake's outstretched finger. He began petting it and cooing at it.

"Is that a sparrow?" Edward asked.

"Yes, it is," Jake answered fondly.

"…why?"

"Why not?"

"You could've had a parrot that could talk."

"I don't want a talking parrot. I wanted a sparrow."

Realizing this was going nowhere, Edward switched gears. "What's the little guy's name?"

"Larry."

"I was expecting 'Jack,'" Adéwalé muttered.

Jake grinned, his eye gleaming. "A lot of people were expecting for there to be a sparrow named Jack."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How do you do it, mate?" Edward asked.

"If you're expecting me to know what 'it' is, I'll have to disappoint you, for I cannot read minds," Jake answered, Larry the Sparrow on his shoulder.

"Keep this ship together. You've got so many different walks of life here, and you're young. How do you keep so much difference in line without fights breaking out?"

"Well, for one, they respect me, and I them. Two, fights break out all the time here. It's good for building relationships, though. Nothing brings a crew together like a good brawl. However," Jake made a face, "there have been times when deaths have occurred."

"What to you do when that happens?"

"…well, Edward, I am a proponent of equality, so if one man dies, that's one more life in the world, and that needs to be fixed."

Edward blinked, trying to work out just what that meant. "So…if one or more of your crew kills one or more of your crew…you kill the killers?"

"Aye."

"Wouldn't that create animosity among the crew though, killing their mates like that?"

"Oh, my crew is welcome to jump ship any time they like, and they're welcome to duel me to the death any time they want for the right to the captaincy."

Edward blinked again. "You, a kid, captain a crew of dozens of able-bodied adults, and none of them have tried to usurp you?"

"Eh, you've seen me fight, Kenway. How many people are there in the world that can fight like that?"

"Fair enough point, lad."

"However, fights are rare around here."

"Why is that?" Adéwalé asked.

Jake smiled, almost serenely. "Because everyone here knows each other."

Edward and Adéwalé stared at him.

"Look around," Jake swept an arm about his ship. "Englishmen, Spaniards, Africans, men, women, Christians, Catholics, others. It's a melting pot of everything; you'd think a concoction like that would explode, and it does…when it's too big. The reason why the Running Frenchman sails along just fine is because she's small. Everyone here knows everyone by name and heart.

"That's not British scum, that's William. That's not a Spanish bastard, that's Juan. That's not a nigger, that's Padiwa. That's not a heretic, that's David and Joshua. That's not a woman, that's Jane. See, the boundaries of big societies, where there exists British and Spanish animosity towards the other, where the men frown on the women, where the Catholics and the Protestants spar on their beliefs…it doesn't exist here. See, in big societies, you can generalize and stereotype. You can group and call them all them and they, and that's where the problem with the world comes in.

"They want to say diversity is bad for the world…sure. Just look around you and bear witness to how difference on the global scale is breeding hate and violence, with people killing people for no other reason than because they're not the same. A perfect example is there."

Jake pointed and Edward and Adéwalé followed. In the distance, they saw a British and Spanish frigate open fire on the other.

"Not a single person on either boat knows a soul on the other, and yet, because of the flag and the uniform, they're both willing to slaughter the other in the name of a king that doesn't even know their names or the name of their ship, a king that's on the other side of the world and doesn't give a rat's ass if they live or die in a conflict hundreds of miles away. One of those ships is going to sink to the bottom of the sea, and the only ones that'll know are us and the victor. All because the flags are different.

"Britain, Spain, Portugal, the rest of Europe and Africa, they're too big. This New World, with all the tribes and all the people coming over, it's too big. Wars are going to break out like a plague, and lots of people are going to die because of white skin and red skin. None of them in those big places knows anyone from any of the other big places, so they can say what they will of the other without regret or remorse, and kill them just the same. They don't form attachments.

"But here, on the Running Frenchman, where it's small and everyone's different, they all know each other. They know faces and stories, quirks and oddities, likes and dislikes." Jake grinned, wistful and hopeful.

"That's why Nassau's going to make it. It's a small place, and it won't get much bigger than a few thousand, probably less. It'll be a melting pot, but it'll be a balanced melting pot that ain't too big. There's a problem when the melting pot gets too big. Too many clashing ideals and philosophies, it all blows up. That's why you keep it small and balanced. Like here: a little bit of British, a little bit of Spanish, a little bit of man, a little bit of woman, a little Protestant and a little Catholic—and doesn't have to be those things, it can be anything, any kind of mix, as long as it's small, and there's not too much of any of the different ingredients."

"…where did you learn of such things, mate?" Edward asked quietly, stunned through his boots and Jake's intellect.

Jake shrugged. "My master started me off good. He taught me history and writing, some math, a lot out of the Bible, and he taught me about the world. From there, just my own observations and things I pick up from those I interact with."

"Little Jake Swallow," Edward said. "Half as anyone's age and already three times as smart."

Jake cracked a grin. "Praise the Lord."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I love philosophy. It's taking over my writing, as you can see.

And you can see it in our world, too, Jake's melting pot theory, which is, in turn, my melting pot theory. Too many different ingredient on too grand a scale, and BOOM, but you get a little scale, and a little bit of the ingredients, and it can mix together well. Like the Puritans and Squanto's people. Started off small and well, and then too many different people got involved and land battles broke out all over the Colonies.

Anyway, beyond moving beyond the deep stuff, the Running Frenchman ladies and gentlemen! Sixty-four humungous broadside guns, six long nine chase cannons, six mortars, and internal iron plating, capable of bringing down two legendary ships with barely any effort. And while I don't know much about 18th Century sialing ships, I am strongly confident that many guns and their impressive weights would sink any ship beyond our modern-day vessels, but suspension of disbelief is rife in the AC world.

There's also a special someone as the First Mate.

Yes, Mr. Biggs, whose name's a play on PotC's Mr. Gibbs, is an Egyptian magician. It fits the steady theme in which Percy's past lives all involve some branch of the mythologies, like how Faris met the Greeks, Vergil was trained by Lupa, the Roman, and how Cheyenne was engaged with Zoё, a Hunter. Jake has an Egyptian for a crewmate. That leaves the Amazons and the einherjar with two lives that are based in Industrial Revolution London, and WWI.

I also got Odyssey, and while thus far a fun game, it still feels like a "you can copy my homework, but change it up so it's not obvious" of Origins…with Black Flag thrown in for naval gameplay. Despite these rehashings, I say buy it and enjoy a fun experience.

As for how I'm going to fit Origins and Odyssey into my canon is yet unknown, but I have a rising Time Titan to play around with so…time travel…maybe…

Fav, Follow, and Review!