HTF Origins: Russell
Written by Flaky Ciel
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"An adventurous soul, battle-scarred and experienced, cast from the seas."
Russell balanced atop the front of his ship, his good leg forward, hoisting the spyglass to his eye. He twisted about, looking for any passing ships to be seen. Satisfied, he closed it and pocketed the device, jumping down onto the deck. He walked past his crewmates, going strait for the captain himself. The walrus looked down at the little sea-otter, who saluted half-heartedly with his hook.
"Yar, Cap'n!" Russell shouted. "I saw one of them military boats off near the shoreline! I think they be lookin' fer us, waitin' fer us to go ashore."
"Good work. Y'ain't m' first mate for nothin'." The walrus said, snidely.
"What be our course of action?" He asked, still saluting.
"We butcher 'em all. They must have some nice weapons on that boat. We take 'em all for 'rselves."
Russell looked a little disappointed. "But Cap'n, ain't that a little… excessive?" He asked.
"Russell, me boy…" The walrus said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Ya got too soft 'a heart. Look at yarself. Ya only got one hand and one leg. If you don't toughen up, they might just get the rest of ya. Now, where you be standin'?"
"With you, Cap'n…" Russell pledged. The captain walked down on deck, to prepare the crew. Russell stabbed at the deck with his peg-leg and shifted his bandanna. He had lost his hand and leg in battle, one which could have been avoided, he thought.
Russell loved the pirate's life, and he grew up sailing. He was an orphan found out at sea by a pirate crew, and he loved the life of a sailor. However, the mystical life of the pirates he read about in stories was tantalizing. When he finally got the chance, he couldn't pass it up. Sailing and fishing on the open seas, scrounging for treasure, salvaging the sunken wreckages. All of it seemed like the real life to him. Money, beer, and the open ocean. Five years he served with his captain, loyally, having quite a time. The only thing he couldn't get used to was the fighting. Now, he didn't mind fighting himself. In fact, he was quite good at it. The thing he had issues with was senseless killing.
Death and dying were part of the pirate's way; it was unavoidable. But the captain's unnecessary cruelty always left a bad taste in Russell's mouth. Prisoners, captives, enemies, and even his own crewmates were treated horribly by the crew as a whole, mainly as directed by their captain. But, he was the captain, so orders were orders. The crew went about preparing to sneak up on the unlucky military vessel. To most people, their little replica pirate ship would be laughable, but he wooden boat carried a wide array of nasty surprises. "Release the fog." The walrus ordered.
They all laughed and began dumping mass quantities of specially-treated dry ice from the cannon ports, causing amazing amounts of fog to rise up. Soon, the little island's shores were awash with the stuff, leaving them almost undetectable. "Cap'n…" Russell asked, running up behind him, "I 'ave to say, this don't seem right. Not only that, but they gotta' be 'eavily armed!"
"What be yer point, Russell?" The Captain asked, impatiently.
"I'm just not sure this be a good idea…" Russell admitted. They waved it off.
"The orders stay. We attack!" The pirates roared in agreement, grabbing their weapons and preparing for the assault. Russell shrugged, compliantly, and snatched up his cutlass and revolver. They all quieted down, the only sound being the gentle creaking of the ship as they rounded the island, ready to attack. "Prepare the bridge." The captain whispered.
They carefully and quietly maneuvered into position around the metal military boat, and by the time they were seen it was too late. A pair of special harpoon guns poked out the sides of their ship, loaded. They both fired under enormous pressure, lodging the spears into the sides of the metal hull, with a rope bridge in tow. The soldiers on board had little time to react before they were overrun.
Russell helped lead the charge, opening fire with his revolver while the captain unloaded with his shotgun. Soldiers fell, and more dropped from their crewmates shots. They all stormed the ship, butchering the bewildered and unfortunate men. Russell drew his cutlass, which was countered by a soldier's knife. A few quick sword slashes later, he was disarmed, quite literally. Russell turned his attention to another soldier, and then another.
By his third kill he drew his pistol again, shooting a soldier in the shoulder and kicking him to the ground. Another soldier drew his own pistol, intending to shoot the little otter, but Russell lashed out with his sword, slicing his fingers off. The soldier glared at him, but Russell walked away from his downed opponent. He heard the click of a gun too late, and by the time he had turned around the soldier had fired.
The bullet grazed his face, slicing his right eye clean out of its socket. Russell screamed and stumbled backwards. He heard machine-gun fire start, and the he looked up at his other crewmates. Most of them were already dead, and the rest of them were retreating back onto the ship, along with their captain. Russell hollered and scrambled after them, clutching his wounded eye. They cut the rope and turned tail, still being fired upon. They had never suffered such a horrible defeat before, and were unsure how to escape.
"Full power! Set sail away!" The walrus shouted, grabbing at his stomach, which was home to a fresh gun-wound. They all sailed away, a hail of bullets still chasing the lot of them and putting a few more pirates out of commission. The ship's medic tended to the wounded Russell's eye as best he could in the situation, finally opting to remove the rest of it.
"Yar-Wait!" Russell pleaded in vain, before the rest of his eye was cut out. He shouted and screamed, and the Captain just looked at them, disgusted.
"This be pitiful!" He yelled over the gunfire. "Simply pitiful! You yellow-bellied bastards should have fought harder! I should pluck all your eyes out an-" Suddenly he was cut off, as a bullet hole appeared right in the center of his forehead. Everyone screamed as their boss hit the ground, stone dead, and the military boat finally faded into the fog.
A handful of pirates all looked around for a moment, before leaping towards their captain's body. They snatched up his symbol, his prized hat, and began fighting amongst themselves for it. The other pirates all sat back, watching, not wanting to get into a fight. Suddenly a gunshot was fired, and they all turned to see the short culprit.
Russell, holding the discharged gun in his hand, stomped the ground with his peg-leg. "I be the first mate. That makes me acting cap'n." He demanded. They all exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of Russell's demands. They knew he had spunk, and was a darn good pirate, but they weren't sure he had the backbone.
"Sorry, Russell, but we ain't followin' the likes of ya!" One of the pirates shouted. Russell responded by cocking his pistol and aiming it at the man. "What? You ganna shoot me? Ya don't have the balls!" He shouted, daringly. The other pirates all let go of the hat as a gunshot was heard, and the daring seal tumbled over, grabbing his leg.
"Yeh." Russell responded, mockingly. "I just lost an eye, ya shouldn't 'ave tested me. Thow 'im overboard!" The other men instantly obliged, tossing the wounded seal into the water. Russell laughed to himself, knowing that a good swimmer like that would be fine, shot leg or not. He pulled the eye-patch off a dead pirate and placed it over his own eye, followed by their captain's black, skull-and-crossbones hat.
"Okay, boys." Russell said, pacing back and forth. "I be actin' cap'n now, so as my first order listen up! Any of ya who be jerks, asses, or overall honorless-sacks-of-crap, ye best be jumpin' overboard right now, else I might not miss ya like I did 'im!" They all froze, watching their captain's bleeding patch and the gun in his hand.
A few of the men instantly jumped overboard, running for dear life. The others remained silent. Russell smiled, proudly. His dream was coming true. "Well, as fer the rest of ya, let's 'ave the time of our lives! Ya-har! Enough of this weapons crap! Let's set sail for booze and bootie!" The other six pirates grinned widely and raised their swords, shouting.
"Will ye be takin' the wheel… cap'n?" One of them asked. Russell's eyes glazed over with happiness as he put his hand and hook on the ship's steering wheel. He was the happiest pirate on the seven seas.
"Yar!" Russell yelled, spinning the wheel around and heading for open ocean.
A week after his promotion, however, Russell was a little doubtful. Twice already they had to divert coarse, in order to evade the authorities. The fishing was wonderful, but their craving for alcohol and gold continued unfilled. Their chartman looked at the map carefully, comparing it to the one on a small computer underneath the deck. "Cap'n, we be sailin' into unvisited territories now. We don't 'ave any idea where we be goin'."
"I know it." Russell responded, occupied with steering. "I figure that be the best place for some 'onest pirating. Them military ships wouldn't dare come out this far, so if we stick to the edge of the map, we should be fine."
The chartman emerged on deck, annoyed. "Cap'n, with all due respect, why would we just sail right into the uncharted territories? We should stick to raidin' military vessels." Russell sighed. That wasn't the pirate way, in his mind. They should be looking for treasure, not shooting up random soldiers.
"Well, I be figurin' that if we were to gatha' some information first, we'd be betta' prepared." Russell explained.
"But they might still be lookin' fer us out there too!" He yelled. The other pirates all gathered around him, agreeing.
"Look, I be cap'n here!" Russell shouted. "That be where we be goin'!" They all grudgingly went back to their posts, following orders. Russell sighed, not having such a good time anymore. But he knew it would pick up once they got out from under the military's shadow. "What be the nearest port?" Russell asked, at length. The chartman looked at his map, laughing to himself.
"Happy Tree Town, sir." He said, mockingly. They all laughed at the name, thinking it funny. Even Russell chuckled a little.
"We'll swing by there 'fore heading out. Stock up on gunpowder, wood, and, most importantly, rum!" He laughed, changing course as the map said. Russell looked up at the sky, where the sun was dipping low to the horizon. When night fell, they lit the deck lamps and Russell yawned. "Well boys, I'm gonna be gettin' some sleep. Yar, you take the wheel." He said. He went downstairs, turning to say, "And thank ye, boys, fer bein' on the crew." before heading to the captain's quarters.
Russell tucked himself into bed, uttering one last, "Yar…" He closed his eyes, sleeping and dreaming sweet dreams. Suddenly he woke up, feeling hands grabbing at him. He swung with his hook instinctively, clawing a man in the face before his hands were forced behind him. He finally got his head on strait and realized it was none other than his own crew. "What be the meaning of this!?" He cried.
"This be a mutiny, CAP'N!" The chartman spat. They threw a shackle on his good ankle, which to his dismay was attached to a steel cage filled with a few cannon balls. They dragged him out, still in the middle of the night. They thrust his sword into his hands, before saying, "Just in case you want to die quicker." and throwing him and the cage overboard. They laughed as he yelled, plummeting into the depths.
Russell hit the water's surface, sinking quickly. Thankfully, being an otter, he could hold his breath for very long periods of time. He started struggling at the shackle on his ankle, but to no avail. The cage hit the bottom of the shallow water with a cloud of dust. Russell struggled with the cage, trying to open it, and failing that he returned to the brace on his ankle. He struggled in vain for several minutes, finally realizing that it wasn't going to budge.
Russell looked down at his sword and sighed, sending a cloud of bubbles up. He picked it up out of the sand it was lying in, and hoisted it over his head. He gritted his teeth, mustering all the will he had in him, and finally brought the blade downward, severing his leg underneath the knee. He screamed in agony as salt-water flooded the wound, and he whipped off his bandanna, using it to cut off circulation. He swam up to the surface, grabbing his sinking hat in the process.
He hit the surface and took a deep breath, looking at the horizon, and seeing the ship, HIS ship, sailing back the way they had just came from. Russell just stared at it, unbelieving. Suddenly, he just started laughing uncontrollably. His eye turned grey and he kept laughing, manically, thrashing the water with his hook. "Fine! Take it!" He shouted, laughing still. Suddenly he stopped, calming down. He sighed, unhappily, and started swimming for his ship.
After a few hours, he was fortunate enough to come across a rowboat at a private dock, on small island. Stealing that, he continued to go after them, vaguely hopeful. Hours turned into days, and he was about to give up all hope when he saw his ship, by itself, floating in the distance. "Yar!" He shouted, suddenly a scowl going across his face. He grabbed his swords and jumped into the water, using his tail to paddle him over to his ship.
He managed to climb up the side, his sword in his teeth, and using his arms and one peg to hobble up the rope ladder on the side. He got up there, already shouting despite having to balance on one "foot". But to his surprise, no one was aboard. "Yar? Anyone here?" He asked, cautiously. He hopped around on deck, stopping by the medical room to grab another peg-leg. Now able to walk, he searched his boat for the rest of his crew, only to find a few traces of blood smears and nothing more. Even the advanced portions of his boat have been stripped, leaving it an ordinary sailing vessel.
After painstakingly changing course, he started on his way back towards Happy Tree Town, hopefully to pick up a new crew. A little more than a day later, he came across the small town, and docked at its port. He wobbled off of his deck, much to the amazement of the citizens of the town. He found a barrel and stood atop it, shouting as to be heard.
"Listen up, you landlubbers!" He yelled, jokingly, "I be lookin' fer a new crew, and this be the place to sign up fer a life of adventure on the 'igh seas!" He smiled, seeing a small crowd gathering around him. "So who among ya be willin' to join up with me crew?" The animals all exchanged confused glances, and the smile dripped slowly off of Russell's face. "Anyone?" He asked.
"And do what, exactly?" An anteater asked him. "This whole area's ocean isn't hardly worth exploring. There's not a lot of ships sailing out there."
"What do ye mean?" He asked, impatiently. In the flurry of response, Russell learned of the world he had stumbled into. In particular, of the curse, and of the inability to escape, even by sea. "But, that be impossible!" he protested. The other citizens differed with him, though. "Fine, if ye don't want to join Russell's crew, then don't! I'll just be havin' to go elsewhere for a while."
"Look, buddy…" A handless beaver piped in, "It's not that we don't want to, it's just that there's well, not much to pirate out there! Nothing that won't get you killed, anyway."
Russell ignored him, and hopped back onboard. "I'll be back, landlubbers!" He called, still not buying it. He waved them goodbye, before setting off.
"I give him two days." Handy said, jokingly.
"I give him a few hours." Sniffles countered.
Russell, meanwhile, continued sailing. He kept sailing and sailing, seeing absolutely nothing that seemed to be on any map he could find. He scratched his head with his hook, not understanding. He climbed to the top mast, balancing expertly on his peg leg and pulled out his spyglass, trying to make heads or tails of where he was.
Suddenly he felt a drop of water hit him. He looked up, with a questioning, "Yar?" seeing a storm suddenly brew above him. He shook his head, and rubbed his eye, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. It wasn't coming down hard, so he just ignored it and continued searching. A bolt of lighting struck downwards upon him, however, attracted towards the metal scope. He screamed and twitched, electrocuted, and when he finally stopped he was blackened and sizzling from the strike.
He let out a cough of black smoke and fell from the mast, everything going black. He felt like he was struck by lightning again, only this time directly. He felt himself sizzling before he woke up in a cold-sweat, back in his ship's medical room. "What the… devil?" He asked, thinking it all a dream. He laughed to himself, frightened by the horrifying realness of the pain. He walked back on deck to see himself docked right back in Happy Tree Town. He gasped, seeing the scorch-marks his body left when it hit the deck.
Russell downtroddenly walked down the plank onto his dock, seeing a huge hole battered into the hull of his ship. He almost cried, seeing it. "Told ya." Said the anteater again. His moment of triumph was cut off, seeing the look on the pirate's face.
"Ye be right… There were no ships, nothing. I guess me pirating days be over…" He said, unhappily. Sniffles looked down, sad for him.
"Well, I suppose there might still be SOME sunken treasure out there, somewhere… Plus we could always use a fisherman." He said, rethinking. Russell looked up, suddenly cheered. "But you won't be going anywhere on THAT crate." He said, pointing at Russell's ship. The otter sighed, knowing he was right.
"I can't bear to see me ship go to waste…" He said, sadly.
"Well, you still need a place to live, right? We could help you get it on land and build a house for you out of it." Sniffles offered.
"Yar? Really? You landlubbers would really do that fer me?" He asked, surprised. Sniffles nodded, and the two shook left hands.
"Welcome to the community, erm…" Sniffles started, not remembering his name.
"Russell. Me name's Russell." He said, happily.
One crane rental, and a good amount of wood and nails later, Russell's ship had been hoisted into a tree, and securely stationed there. Handy and Russell, proud of their craftsmanship, finalized the work by putting his mailbox in. The pirate sighed, happily. "Sorry you had to settle down against your will here." Handy said.
"What ye be talkin' about? A pirate's heart beats in these ribs, Handy." The otter said. Handy couldn't help but laugh. Sure, Russell thought, he may be more domestic now, but in his heart he'd always be a pirate. And nothing would ever change that in him. So he'd keep wearing that hat, and his other pirate gear. He earned enough money from fishing to even buy another ship, and a few small boats to go along with it. The deaths he suffered were painful, sure, but he liked his job. He did miss all the booze, though. At least, he figured, if he lost any more parts they'd come back after he died.
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(Notes: I think I made Russell's story a bit more cheerful than the other two so far. At least, his wasn't nearly as sad as Flippy's or Flaky's. I always liked Russell, and while I was writing this story I had the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack playing :D )