The not-immortal Blacksmith

In a forgotten cavern somewhere deep under mountains just north of the Demon Lands, a dark shadow rolled over in her millennia old slumber.

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Swifthtown, Swanbelia Province, Kingdom of Garthia;

20th of Arah, Second month of Snow;

2125 years since the new gods came.

“I don't care who your god is, don't try to shove it down my throat. I'm not one of your two-bit whore parishioners.” Max said, facing the street preacher who had been following him for more than a block. “Now get lost. I have things to do.” He turned to leave and in doing so missed seeing the cudgel that slammed into the back of his head. He went down. Hard.

“How dare you say such things about the followers of Hesseren, God of Atonement!” The preacher yelled, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth, cudgel half forgotten in his hand. “You must be made to atone for your sins!”

As people started to gather around the free entertainment, Max rolled over and looked up at the now frothing man. Idiot, he thought, Why is it always an idiot? “Look friend, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” Max said, “The easy way is you go away. The hard way is I beat the ever loving tar out of you, and then shove you down a sewer hole.”

The preacher took a half step back and raised the cudgel over his head. “You are a heathen and a heretic! I will see you banished from this world!”

Good luck with that, Max thought. He climbed to his feet, “I guess we are doing this the hard way.” Not far away, a whistle pierced the air.

The preacher swung the cudgel at Max's head, missing by several inches. Max stepped forward, and brought his knee up into the mans crotch. All of the men in the crowd sucked in a collective breath. As the man's head came down, Max hit him with an uppercut to the forehead. The preacher tipped over backwards, and fell to the cobbles.

Max shook out his fist, and said, “Damn, that hurt. I must be getting soft in my old age.” A commotion started behind him, then a pair of portly city guards came through the assembled onlookers.

“Oi! You! We don't take kindly to sailor beating up people on our streets!” The larger around of the said, getting right up in Max's face.

“It was self defense, officer. He attacked me with a cudgel.” Max said.

“Yeah? Well you are going to have to come down to the station, and give a statement.” The 'thinner' guard said. “Now come along quietly.”

Max shook his head, and allowed himself to be lead away but the guard. Behind him he could hear the other officer start asking questions of the crowd.

*-*-*

20th of Arah,

I was detained by the guard today, after getting in a scuffle with an idiot of a street preacher. People like that should be kept in the asylum.

*-*-*

A black ship, flying no flags, floats on the calm waters between Oldwell (the Isle of Dragon Kin) and the Deepfalsian Dominion. A light spills from a door onboard ship as it quickly opens and closes in the night.

“So, this messenger paid in gold, for us to plunder and sink this vessel?” A D'Kin asked.

“Yes Captain, 2,000 gold marks. I don't know where she got them, but they are worth 5 times that amount in common currency!” A human answered.

“I am well aware. Did she give a place and time?” The captain asked.

“I wrote it down, sir.” The human answered and slid a scrap of paper across the table.

“Good. Good. We can easily make that. Set a course, and make it so.” The captain said, a played about his draconian lips.

*-*-*

21th of Arah,

Back on the ship. I never heard back from the guards, so I assume I am free to go. We leave in less than an hour. All of the guests are back on board. The winds are good right now, we should be in Cavenfore by this time tomorrow. For whatever reason, I keep forgetting that ships can make 50-100 miles, or more, in a full day.

22nd of Arah,

We have arrived. We will anchor in the port until the morning, then unload. We will be losing half of our passengers. I get to have a bed.

23rd of Arah,

I spent the day aboard ship, not wanting to deal with the guard in town. I have a vague feeling that there may still be an arrest warrant out for me here. It was just a misunderstanding, and it's not like I killed the Duke's son, I just roughed him up a bit.

24th of Arah,

The wind was against us today, even if the tide was not. We have only made 30 odd miles as a write this. We will make it to the halfway point by morning.

*-*-*

The Ocean between Garthia and Oldwell.

25th of Arah, Early Morning.

The alarm bell rang loudly, piercing the night with quick shrill rings. Maxwell rolled out of his bed, and grabbed his revolvers from under the pillow. “Now what?” he uttered, making his way to the cabin door.

The scene on deck was chaos. Passengers running around, getting underfoot of the sailors, yelling and screaming. He looked over the rail, and saw what had caused the alarm. Pirates. “Oh hells.”

He grabbed the closest passenger and said “We are leaving the ship. Go and get only what you can carry.” The frightened passenger nodded and ran down to the lower decks. Max grabbed the next passenger, and repeated the process until all of the passengers were accounted for. He then waited, and watched the pirate ship approach.

It took long minutes, but the passengers arrived at the top of the steps. Most just had bags, but two had large chests of trade goods, and one young man carried a large antique looking chair. “The trade goods and chair stay here.” Max said, shaking his head. Idiots. “Or you can stay here. No arguments.” He stared the three in eyes.

“I'm staying with my goods. If I don't have them, I have nothing.” The other one nodded in agreement. The young man dropped the chair, “Mom can piss of. I'm not dying for this old thing.”

“Good.” Max started for the stern of the ship, “We are taking the captains boat, and heading back the way we came.” He picked up his pace.

Mast crammed with all the sails they could hold, and flying the skull and crossed swords of pirates, the pirate ship surged forward. The crew on it's decks started to fire crossbows into the sailors of the Mercy, many of whom went down. Moments later, the pirate ship struck with a resounding crash.

Max almost lost his footing when the ship was rammed, but grabbed the railing to keep from falling. The other passengers didn't fair so well. Max shook his head, Something is wrong here. They should have come up broadside, throw grapples, and board us. Ramming is wrong. He started to run for the stern.

Pirates jumped from the bow of their ship, and others swung in on ropes. The foredeck and midship were under assault, and what crew remained was falling fast. Max could see the captain trying to rally the troops, but there was too much chaos. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He passed a young cabin boy, grabbed him by the arm, and yelled, “Get the passengers onto the captains boat and head to shore! I will buy you some time.” The boy nodded and ran.

“Shit.” Maxwell stretched his hands out, and started marking targets.

Captain Wilson had his hands full. He was yelling orders while trying to defend against a pair of pirates with jagged edged cutlasses, when one exploded. Both he and the remaining pirate jumped back. “What in the-”, was all Wilson got out before the other pirate exploded. The deck went quiet. Wilson looked around, half of the pirates were nothing but chunky stains on the deck. The remaining half and all of his remaining crew stared in shock and horror at the carnage on the deck. Then they all heard the voice.

“I'm traveling here. I just want to be left alone.” Maxwell walked down the stairs from the poop deck, “And you lot,” he pointed at the pirates, “Have interrupted it.” He shook his head, then continued, “If you get back on your ship and run, I will let you live. Stay here and you die.”

Max looked around. Some of the pirates were slowly moving back towards their ship. Then he sprouted a bolt from the right side of his chest. He looked over to the black ship, and saw a human reloading a crossbow, a man who was wearing a captains hat. He drew his left revolver, cocked the hammer with his thumb, aimed and fired. The pirate captains head exploded. He holstered the weapon, pulled the bolt from his chest, and continued. “I will count to three. Any pirate left onboard by then will be burned to a crisp. ONE!”

The pirates looked at one another in confusion.

“TWO!”

The pirates broke. Some ran for their ship, clamoring up bow and trying to flee. Others took the more expedient method of throwing themselves off the ship.

“THREE!”

There were none but the crew left onboard. Max cracked his knuckles and watched for a few minutes as the panicked pirates turned their ship and fled. “That looks far enough,” he said, then waived his hands towards the fleeing ship, “Loisg an soitheach chun loidhne-uisge agus gu h-ìosal!” a spark of fire flew from his hands, gaining in speed and size as it left him; face of sorts appearing in the middle of the flame; then it his the black ship, and exploded.

Heaving a deep tired sigh, Max looked down at the captain, “I think we need to pick up the passengers, and then head to our destination.”

In the near distance the pirate ship, and all aboard, burned.

*-*-*

25th of Arah.

Got attacked by pirates. They killed about a third of the crew and injured another third. We got rid of them, and burned their ship. I'm a sailor now. With the reduced crew it will take another day to reach port, but I think we will be fine.

*-*-*

Far behind the Mercy a pirate ship and it's crew gurgled, and sank below the waves.