A crisp breeze carries Fiona and Jacob's ship towards their oncoming foes, their three other allied ships following closely on either side. There is a palpable tension in the air as the crew hold their positions on the boat, each of them armed with cutlasses, pistols, or manning a cannon.
Standing at the very front of the ship is the Archman, standing in place with his hands balled into fists on either side of him. He looks out towards the six approaching vessels, his gaze locking onto them with a deadly fixation. There is a wide breadth of empty space around him, as everyone onboard keeps their distance from him. Even from their separated position, the crew can still feel the bloodlust emanating off the Archman. While he doesn't provide the most pleasant company, many of the crewmates are glad to have him on their side.
"Everything ready?" The Archman turns around, walking towards Jacob with a direct stride.
"Ah, oui. All ready." Jacob gives a hesitant thumbs-up, followed by a disingenuous smile.
"Good." The Archman walks past Jacob briskly, but stops and turns back as a final thought comes to mind. "Tell your crew to stay out of my way."
"Absolument." Jacob agrees as quickly as possible, nodding at least five times in quick succession.
The Archman walks up to the center mast of the ship, crewmates clearing a path for him as he walks forward, his radius of lethality thoroughly warding them off. He takes hold of a network of ropes and starts climbing up the rigging, until he is most of the way up the mast. He hangs from this heightened position with a single gloved hand, looking out from his vantage point at the advancing ships. Tensions continue to grow as everyone collectively holds their breath.
"AT THE READY!!!" Fiona bellows from the stern of the ship, where she is steering.
There is a lulled silence as the two small fleets of ships draw closer and closer, until the crews of each craft become visible to one another. An approaching ship starts to pass by on the port side of Fiona and Jacob's vessel. The crew immediately gather themselves on the starboard side of the ship, distancing themselves from their foes, their weapons drawn and their nerves heightened.
There is a reluctant pause, as no one dares make the first move. This hesitation is broken abruptly as a beckoning command comes from the advancing ship.
"ADVANCE!!!"
The mob of privateers lay down a series of gangplanks and start swarming onto the vessel, blades and firearms drawn.
The Archman grabs a rope from the rigging beside him, swinging through the air in an acrobatic stunt which catches the attention of both allies and enemies. He lands before the advancing horde with a heavy impact, catching them severely off-guard. He slowly raises to a standing position, the unprepared privateers all turning and looking at him with a fascinated terror.
The Archman draws his rapier in one hand, and a single pistol in the other, looking around him to survey his soon-to-be victims.
"IT'S HIM!!!" A frenetic voice blurts out from the mob of armed privateers.
The sudden burst of noise shatters the stillness like a veil of thin ice, causing the privateers to rush at the Archman en masse, brandishing their weapons, some of them assuming a vicious war cry.
The Archman responds with a cold ferocity, pulling back the hammer on his pistol and picking off the closest target before him, then cutting into the next closest body to approach him with his rapier.
After the first body hits the floor, everything in the Archman's vision starts to blur into a dark crimson hue. He is consumed with a deluge of ruthlessness as he fends off and cuts down his attackers with expert movements. Flesh is parred and pierced on the edge of his glistening blade, his pistol picking off targets one at a time with deadly efficiency. Cries of gore ring out as the massacre unfolds, but the Archman is completely deaf to the sounds around him, as all his senses limit themselves to the bare necessities of survival and savagery. Bodies fall off the Archman like he is brushing water from his skin. One could sense the carnage that he was effusing without even needing to look at him. Musket balls collide against the Archman's body every now and then, but they are stopped dead in their tracks by the fortified leather and fabric of his combat attire. They leave nothing behind but irritable bruises, and have little more effect than further stoking the Archman's fury.
YOU ARE READING
The Archman
Storie d'amoreWhile departing for London to meet with her fiancé, Eira Pryce finds herself taken captive by a living legend, the fabled pirate known only as the Archman. As it turns out, the fables may not have been so accurate in their portrayal of this mythic f...
