His First Hate

A scream cut through the empty market, coming from down in the square. An older woman from what the lads could put together. Wilkes rushed first, Erik second. Their feet fell like rain as the pair rushed toward certain danger. They were, ultimately, too late. A large group of men were gathered in the square, tearing through the remnants of the festival. They were dressed to sail, and wore matching bandanas. A deep navy blue on their heads breaking up the usual greys and browns of their outfits. Swords in hand they were carving a path through the lads homes. They were following orders from a man in a captain's coat with a red scythe painted on the back.

"Right Lads! We gotta find any remnant of our bounty! Leave NOTHING to chance!" Their captain roared. Erik huddled with Wilkes in the shadow of the Tavern. They stood in the south side of the square with the pirates in the center and west.

"Erik... we gotta figure something out." Wilkes whispered tensely. He tried to count the pirates but lost track after 25.

"Wilkes, bud, there's no sign of Cap'n or Barry or Rangpar. Hate to say it, but we might be the only ones still kicking with half an idea how to handle this." Erik bit the inside of his cheek "We might have to help them find what they're lookin fer."

Wilkes stared blankly, he blinked twice slowly. Mulling his best friend's words.

"No." Wilkes said firmly. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of whatever he could do. Unarmed, out manned, out gunned. The smith could probably fight, or at least have weapons nearby. There wasn't a gunsmith or artificer on the island that could have made anything to counter their pistols if they had any. Wilkes poked his head out again to get a better look at what the pirates had weapon wise.

He spotted three with pistols, about a dozen with swords, and the captain had both. He turned back around the corner and kicked a rock out of frustration. Erik gave him a sympathetic look. Smoke was rising in the air, a fire in the town square had been started. Wilkes realized their intention

"They're gonna burn down the whole island lookin' for somethin'. Erik... we gotta do something!" He whispered as best he could, stealth was their only advantage here.

"Do what exactly? Pray to whatever god of rain might answer? You sound like Rangpar!' Erik whispered back increduosly. On the opposite end of their alley, a pirate began to stalk down. In the evening shade he probably couldn't see them. Wilkes yanked the dagger from Erik and rushed the unsuspecting man. A single stab to throat while he threw the man to the ground with himself was the extent of their exchange. The blood was hot. The man made gurgling sounds as he attempted to claw at Wilkes. The sailor clamped a hand over the pirate's mouth, and stabbed his belly until the thrashing stopped. His hands slick with blood, he stared at Erik in horror.

The blonde elf closed the distance and hugged him.

"it was us or him. It will be us or them. We have to protect ourselves. our home." Erik said coldly. He began to search the pirate for anything of use. Another dagger, a bandana, and a small bit of parchment. A copy of a map marking the island of Thellin and points of interest there.

"Why come here?" Erik asked quietly, Wilkes shrugged. More screams echoed from the town square. The two shared a glance, and began to stalk further towards it. As they rounded corner, nearly exposing themselves, they heard a familiar guttural roar. Rangpar.

"GODS ABOVE, THIS BLOOD BE AN OFFERING. I AM RANGPAR QAROQCHI, AND BRUTALITY IS MY BIRTH RIGHT!" The orc came into view in the streets. His axe cleaved the men with swords in twain, the shower of red clashed with his green skin. The dozens of tattoos on his body began to shimmer an ethereal blue. As he spilled more and more blood, flames began to dance from the light. His muscular form is emboldened by some sort of magic. Wilkes held his breath as his friend carved a path through the town square.

The gore in the town square was not solely of pirates slain though. There were a handful of people from the village face down. Two in particular made Wilkes blood run cold in his veins. A dull fury making a pit in his stomach.

The first was a familiar face, the baker. Hannah’s father lay on his back, red blots soaking his shirt and apron. He was sprawled out staring at the sky. His bread basket laid toppled over a few feet from him. Wilkes moved into the courtyard without even realizing it. Pirates swarming the place and screaming at one another attempting to fight the magical orc. Wilkes rest two coins over the eyes of the baker, and mumbled a prayer.

It was the second face that drove him into a frenzy. His dagger found purchase in a pirate’s back, getting stuck in the bastard's spine as Wilkes began to strangle him. He snarled and began to headbutt Wilkes. The two tumbled on the ground as Wilkes swung punch after punch into the pirates side. The man stopped struggling eventually, and Wilkes left the dagger behind. He claimed the pirate’s sword and began to hack wildly at passing pirates. His motions were sloppy, he relied on the chaos brought on by rangpar and the frenzy of battle to land lucky hits.

His luck began to run out however. A more competent sword fighter crossed blades with him. A pirate with one of those bandanas, but on his arm was a golden band with nine notches. The pirate danced around him quickly, movements practiced in a field with little forgiveness. Small cuts breaking through here and there. His blood gushed from the wounds, and Wilkes lost focus further. The two crashed through tables and chairs yet to be stored away. Splinters of wood flew as they grappled and clashed. At one point Wilkes put his opponent off balance with a swift kick and saw an opportunity. Pain and Anger the only wind in his sails, he went for an overhead cut but left his stomach open in doing so. A return slash came for the rooky mistake. Just before the pirate could gut him, Erik tackled the bastard. He drove his dagger through the pirate’s jaw into his head. The light faded immediately from the pirate’s eyes. Wilkes helped Erik up, no time to talk, they split up again in the confusion.

The pirates' numbers had dwindled. Things seemed to be going their way. A thundering crack rang through the air. A geyser of blood sprayed from rangpar’s side. A bullet from one of the pirate’s pistols. The orc staunched the blood flow with one hand and heaved his axe with the other. It sailed through the air and cut the offender’s life short. The pirate captain beside him simply picked up the pistol the dead man dropped, said something to the other pirates, and walked off. The gentle giant was panting now, gushing blood from a dozen smaller wounds and the new hole in his torso. He glanced around the battlefield and saw Erik and Wilkes. His expression fell, before he cracked his neck audibly.

“HEAR ME, YE CURRS OF THE TIDE REAPERS! I KNOW YOUR NAME! I KNOW YOUR CREED! ON THIS DAY, YOU WILL FIND NO GLORY OR GOLD! SO SAYS RANGPAR!” another roar came from him and renewed his will to fight. His tattoos ignited in a brighter flame. The blood flow slowed, and the orc lumbered towards another group of the pirates. Some held ground, others turned and ran. He dispatched them with no weapon in hand all the same. Their bodies crumpled like cheap toys, or hurled like ragdolls by the jade giant. The pirate captain had seemingly made his escape. The square was now an empty battlefield that had once been home. Wilkes finally allowed himself to tend to the other body he recognized amongst the carnage. His mother.

Her hair was stained red with blood that had been spilled. Exposed ribs on her side made the cause of what happened clear.

“Mama… you were just here to clean up…” Wilkes sobbed, cradling and rocking his mother’s corpse. He didn’t move from there even as night fell in full. He remained there until morning came, that’s when Erik came for him.

He sat quietly and Wilkes continued to rock his mother. The tears he had cried were already dried. The only sound coming from the lad was a faint whimpering. The two sat together for hours. Erik simply rest a reassuring hand on Wilkes shoulder. Erik gazed across the square at the sound of footfalls; rapid but timid. Amy stood on the edge of the square, holding a bundle of parchments.

“Amy got us star charts and other navigation tools. We’re going to find them.” Erik promised his brother. He rose slowly after that. “Let’s settle the score, brother.”