Old Grudges #10
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Perched at the ship's railing, Blake hummed a tune under his breath, leisurely polishing his rifle with a scrap of cloth, eager for the imminent chaos about to unfold. Before long, the crack of gunshots pierced the air, setting off a frenzy as dockside patrons scattered in panic.
Within moments, the once-bustling scene was deserted, save for the irate figures of the Cutthroat pirates' captain, Wellington, and his men storming onto the scene with a menacing scowl.
"Bart, you mutinous son of a bitch! Reveal yourself this instant!" he bellowed, scouring the area for any sign of the first mate.
In response, the first mate emerged, strolling to the railing and peering down at the captain with a furrowed brow. "What's the meaning of this commotion, Wellington? What warrants your disruptive outburst?" he demanded.
Wellington's face contorted with fury as he brandished a blood-stained knife with a distinctive design. "What more evidence do I require than this blade, lodged in Mr. Bernard's back?" he roared, thrusting the weapon forward accusingly. It was the very knife Old Barn had taken from Blake.
The first mate's eyes widened briefly in shock before he regained his composure. "You and I both understand that Marcus wouldn't act without my consent, and there's nothing to gain from such an action," he countered, his tone measured.
"This is clearly a setup, but it appears rational discourse eludes you at present," he continued, casting a pointed glance toward the quartermaster, who observed the scene from a distance as though it were a mere spectacle.
Growing restless, the captain drew his sword with a menacing flourish. "No more excuses!" he spat, his voice seething with fury. "Words won't save you now!" With a fierce determination, he charged toward the ship, his crew following closely behind, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight.
The first mate, undeterred, stepped forward to face the onslaught. "Then let's end this once and for all!" he declared, rallying his men as they surged to meet the captain's advancing forces. "Attack! Show them no mercy!" he commanded, leading the charge while his comrades engaged the enemy in combat.
Meanwhile, Blake, having slipped away unnoticed before the battle erupted, found a vantage point atop an abandoned stall to observe the chaos below. Gripping his rifle tightly, he watched as the clash unfolded, a mix of anticipation and unease stirring within him.
Though Old Barn's plan aimed to disband the crew by causing both sides immense casualties and leaving the winner with only a handful of men, not enough to steer a caravel, let alone a brigantine, it conflicted with Blake's own agenda. He needed every pirate to fall so he could obtain the medicine crucial for his survival.
Blake's eyes darted from the ongoing battle to the entrance of the dock. "They should be coming any second now..." he muttered under his breath, a hint of anticipation in his voice.
As if responding to his words, a vibrant red flare streaked into the sky, exploding with a resounding boom. Then, marine soldiers emerged from the shadows, their presence catching everyone off guard. At their forefront stood a stern-faced marine captain, his voice booming commands.
"Capture the bastards! Kill anyone who resists!" he bellowed, his words spurring his subordinates into action as they surged toward the pirate ship with determined resolve.
Amidst the chaos, Blake remained composed. He alone was unfazed by the sudden appearance of the marines, having orchestrated their arrival himself, a strategic move to ensure the pirates had nowhere to flee. It was insurance that none of the pirates would escape or go somewhere beyond his reach.
As the marines closed in, the first mate and the captain ceased their conflict, their attention drawn to the imminent threat. Surprised but not panicked, they recognized the gravity of the situation, understanding that escape was no longer an option.
The tension crackled in the air as the captain and the first mate exchanged heated words amidst the chaos of the approaching marines. "Let's settle our scores some other time less the Marines kill us all... unless you were a rat all along and this is exactly what you're hoping for..." the captain growled, his gaze piercing as he stepped back, a wary distance between them.
The first mate scoffed in response, his tone dripping with disdain. "Still trying to throw mud at my face even in this situation?" he retorted, his grip tightening around his pistol. "Whatever, I'll deal with you once we escape this island..." With a swift motion, he aimed at the approaching marines, his resolve unshaken.
Amidst the escalating conflict, the captain's voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "Everyone stop fighting! Get back to the ship and prepare to depart at once!" His authoritative command echoed across the docks, prompting a temporary ceasefire among the warring factions.
"Those of you in a fighting condition hold the walkway! The others raise the anchor, and unfurl the sails!" he continued, his orders swift and decisive as the marines clashed with the remaining pirates and soldiers.
In the aftermath of the chaotic clash at the docks, the Cuthroat pirates finally managed to wrestle their way free, but victory came at a steep cost. The crew, once formidable in number, was reduced to a mere nine souls, battered and bruised from the ferocity of the battle.
Among them, the captain, the first mate, and even the seasoned Old Barn bore the scars of the confrontation, though the latter's wounds were comparatively minor.
As the commandeered marine ship turned pirate vessel navigated the treacherous waters, a sense of relief washed over the weary crew. But their respite was short-lived. Without warning, a cannonball thundered through the air, striking the hull with bone-jarring force.
The ship quaked violently, sending shockwaves of panic rippling through the crew.
Rushing to the railing, the captain's eyes widened in disbelief as he beheld the ominous sight unfolding before him. Two imposing marine vessels emerged from behind a cluster of jagged rocks, their cannons blazing with deadly intent.
The sudden onslaught caught everyone off guard, leaving them reeling in shock and fear. Even Blake wore a grim expression at the unexpected turn of events, failing to anticipate that the Marines would go this far to get rid of these pirates.
Unbeknownst to Blake, the royal whose kin fell victim to the Cutthroat pirates harbored a deep-seated grudge that refused to wane. Instead, his fury and resentment simmered beneath the surface, driving him to forge alliances with neighboring kingdoms at great cost.
With the combined influence of three realms at his disposal, the royal continued to exert pressure on the marines, demanding swift retribution against the slayers of his blood.
The Marine's confirmation of the pirates' identity, following Blake's visit, sparked a flurry of activity. They swiftly reached out to nearby branches, rallying support and setting the stage for the current predicament.
Oblivious to the intricate machinations unfolding behind the scenes, Blake could only chalk it up to a stroke of misfortune, not that he had any time or leeway to ponder the circumstances as the Marine vessels continued to bombard the ship, system notifications flashing before him one after the other.
[A member of the Cutthroat Pirates has been eliminated]
[A member of the Cutthroat Pirates has been eliminated]
[A member of the Cutthroat Pirates has...]
"Damn it all! Who cares about all of that?!" Blake's voice echoed with frustration as he darted around the ship, seeking refuge from the relentless barrage of cannon fire. With every hiding spot he found, a cannonball would mercilessly tear through it, leaving destruction and death in its wake.
He had only wanted to weaken the pirates to the extent that he could quietly slit their throats while they slept in the dead of the night, never expecting the marines to go this far, and yet there he was; trapped in an escapable situation with no way out.
Amidst the chaos and death surrounding Blake, his thoughts raced, a mixture of anger and resignation boiling within him.
"Of all the rotten luck... first I was cursed with this wimpy body, and now I have to die with these damned scumbags..." His voice dripped with bitter resentment as he clenched his fists in frustration, his teeth grinding in anger.
Just as despair threatened to consume him entirely, a glimmer of hope pierced through the darkness. A series of new system notifications flashed before his eyes:
[Crisis detected]
[Emergency quest generated: Survive]
[Survive: you are facing a situation you cannot overcome with your current strength and means. Hide within a barrel in the lower deck to increase your chances of survival.
Upon success: possible survival
Upon failure: Death
Difficulty: ??]
...
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