Painful Courage

Year 765 Manuk Soulstone

Connor had always been prepared since he was a lad, trained dutifully under a strict alchemy master. His master always reminded him that the tenacity of a smart individual would beat any muscular brute in a brawl.

“All it takes is a little quick thinking and a little opportunistic grit, boy. Become a scoundrel because life requires no manners.”

Those words drive him to this very moment, peering over the gap between the two ships. He’d observes as his men caught the other crew unaware, fighting for more than just their livelihood. The gunshots and screeching metal are music to his very ears.

The call of battle gave him goosebumps all over his salty skin, only feeling like this because he had this dark and deep-seated hatred towards those who dare challenge him. This captain craves revenge.

Now show your faces, Armor Brothers. Connor scans all the heads and moving bodies, climbing onto his ship’s rail to further search. The leaders better not be hiding if they didn’t want to give Connor time to ruminate about a fate worse than death for them.

It didn’t take long to find them. The two mercenaries are identical twins, sporting the same hair color and haircut. Even they wear their beards in the same fashion, they fight behind a wall of their own people like damn cowards. They are cornered to the main deck of their ship due to Connor’s overwhelming crew.

Connor will not accept any cowardice, taking a rope to swing over the gap between the two ships. He releases his grip on the rope and lands on top of one of the enemies, the first one in his line of sight. Connor’s weathered boot presses his victim down on his back to keep them on the wooden ground. He brandishes the sword and drove it into his victim’s throat, twisting it and slicing it right out of victim’s neck. The blood spurt out and paints on the captain’s pant leg. The beaming heat of Manuk’s throne only made the blood spilt on him feel hotter. There is no compassion for Captain Connor. Connor moves through the mayhem on this deck with a purpose, exuding confidence with every bloody foot fall.

There are only two people he liked nothing more than to wet his blade with their putrid blood. Two bumbling idiots using human shields to keep his crew at bay. He came upon them; the twins and their five lackeys gather their attention right on Connor as a simple insult slips from him. “Pathetic.”

“Aye brothra is that who we suppose to murk?” One brother jeer to his other half, roping a lanky arm over his brother’s shoulder.

“Aye!? I reckon he’s wet behind his ears, brothra. Let’s teach the wee babe some manners, eh?” The other coughing fit is really him laughing, it sounds as gross as their looks.

“Hmph.” Connor will let them think whatever they want, he will still have them chained up for interrogations. They will not be needing all their ears, teeth, and digits to still talk. Connor points his sword high, the light of the sun reflecting off the smooth edge, ready to take on the two males hiding behind their subordinates.

“Ohoho! Brave babe this one! LET ME AT ’EM” The twin pushes his brother off, then the subordinates away. This twin dangles a Morningstar on a chain, making lazy circles in the air. “COME AND GET YA MILK AND COOKIES BABE!”

What a sick bunch…

The man swings his spiky ball on a chain at Connor. The captain saw it and leans right, the ball with spikes missing him by a hair follicle. He uses this to grab the chain with his free hand and tug the individual forward. This man did stumble, having Connor ready his blade to stab this twin. Connor senses warn him that he shouldn’t proceed, ducking down to avoid a stray punch to the face from the other twin. The one in front of him took this chance to grapple him.

Connor brace for it, using the butt of his sword to whack his opponent straight on his nose. It is so hard that he heard a crack and blood spurts from this man’s nostrils. Connor escapes from the near tackle unscathed. The twins, however… One cradle his broken nose, kneeling on the ground. His other twin is red in the face, unbelievably seething.

“HOW DARE YA!”

Connor thought that the twin is going to fight for his brother’s honor. Instead, the bastard motions the five lackeys that gather around them and cross a thumb over his protruding gullet to signal one thing. Death .

“Cowards.” Connor will fight through however many to make sure these two buffoons suffer something worse than death. Connor raises the point of his sword, waiting for the first lackey to lose their lives to him. The twin drags his brother down the hatch, hobbling down where it must be safest for them. It won’t be safe for long, not while the captain of the Nightmare Maiden is on their tails. The first two lackeys tried to take on the captain who pulls out his pistol to shoot one in the head and spear the other right in the gut. The other three gang up on him, so he dodges the swings of their blades. He starts to count for every breath wasted on these fools; a breath will start equating to one tooth from their leader. Connor didn’t have to waste any more time.

Jerold and Trevor appear right next to him with all their weapons drawn. Trevor attacks the lackeys, kicking one down then deflecting another with the metal of his already blood-soak blade. Jerold waits, his face looking ghostly pale like the orb that dangles from the end of his braided hair. Twisted with worry his swashbuckler yelps, “Capt’n?!’

“This is not the time for me to listen to any more of your complaints-!”

“THE LASS IS BELOW DECK BY HERSELF, CAPT’N!?”

“WHY!?” Connor roars, so many things cross his mind. Horrible things. Connor didn’t want to wait, taking Jerold’s warning as a sign for him to chase after the twins. All because of one crazy female. He made sure to drown all his mental compliments for her because she can’t be reckless for longer than a breath. Captain Connor threw caution in Chemuk’s wind for now. One of his own is in danger, and he isn’t going to leave her to die even though, frankly, it’s her own fault. Connor ran straight to the hatch, ripping it open and jumping right down it. His boots broke his fall with a hard thud; it can be heard for miles. It didn’t matter; the place is a cluttered mess of aisles of resources and barrels. Dust accumulates over the drapes that hang over these resources, barely protecting them from the outside environment. Bile rats, with green fur and glowing orange eyes, skitter near the walls. He can hear their meek squeaking and feel their glowing eyes watch him. Those are not what he is apprehensive about. He hadn’t seen the twins or worse yet, Rhea. All he can truly hear in the distance is the chaos of a raging boarding battle. He never thought he will be so reckless as to come here on his own.

Maybe Jerold should have come with me….

Rhea is somewhere down here. Hopefully, not captured or being cornered. Connor gathers the confidence; it isn’t like him to be nervous finding no real excuse for it in the first place. The Twin’s aren’t formidable…what he worried about is-

“Brothra! I WANT TO SMASH HIS FUCKIN’ FACE!”

“Calm down. Ya’ll get the chance.”

Jackpot. Connor follows the brothers’ heated conversation, using the resources laid around as coverage. It didn’t take long to find them in some quarters, trying to mend each other’s wounds as they fume.

“SERIOUSLY!? I can’t wait to make his nose all crooked!?”

“Shush, I heard something.”

Connor is kneeling, from what he can tell, he isn’t the cause of the noise to his left. His gaze scans the area, his heart dropping anyway when they start to investigate.

“COME OUT PRETTY!?”

Rhea! Connor reveals himself from his hiding spot, breaking his self-preservation rule again. “Cowards. I’m right here.”

“THERE’S THE PRETTY BABE!” The twin cocks his thick barreled pistol and pulls the trigger, meaning to shoot on sight regardless of who gets hurt. Connor has endured many wounds in his life to build a high tolerance. He can endure another bullet hole wound if he can survive it. He tries to move to protect his vital organs and brace for the pain. Or maybe death.

This is a terrible way to go, all because he is too quick to try to protect people and not thinking through his impulses. There is always a better solution. It isn’t like him to be careless. Captain Connor will accept this bullet for allowing himself to be so clouded by worry. At least, it isn’t going to be Rhea to take the bullet. Really the only thing he can be somewhat proud to accomplish out of this.

Why is she in front of me? Is this just my crazy imagination before death?

Connor saw the curls, then angles of her small frame drown underneath the clothes. Then the arrow that she let loose flies straight into the twin’s eyeball as the bullet buries itself deep into her left shoulder. She took the bullet straight on, dropping her bow. The huntress fell next to her bow, curling up into a shaking heap. The pain is noticeably clear in the tears that are swelling just along her long eyelashes, teeth gritting back a scream.

“AAARG ME EYE!”

That jolts him out of the intense paralyzing shock, noticing the blood that pools right beneath her and staining her cream-colored blouse. “Rhea!?”

Connor ignores the twins, pulling her into his arms to assess her injuries. She only whimper, eyes half-lidded, black lines coursing on her skin from her bullet hole area and already reach up to the curve of her slender neck. Looking a lot like-

“Fuckin bitch deserves all the poison!” The unharmed twin spit on the ground, holding the other up in one of his arms. The other twin is paling fast from the shock of having his right eye gouge by Rhea’s arrow. Connor winces at this. Mind scrambling on what to do, her body already starts to burn in his embrace. She lost her cognizance, not even reacting to his touch or even the call to her name, her wet eyelids kept fighting to stay awake. Her blood soaks his tan sleeve, it isn’t slowing down. She will surely die of blood loss or worse, the poison that marks her hot skin if time gets any more taken. The Armor Twins will surely pay for what they have done to one of his crew. Connor had to make a quick decision that will benefit both sides of him, the ruthless captain and the man that will protect his crew.

“I, Captain Connor, will promise to drape your removed skin right before your dying gaze. I will keep you alive for as long as your bodies take all my alchemic medicine, force you to watch the worms eat your very meat.” Connor reaches for a full flask in his satchel, voice dripping with so much hate it changes him. It took everything in him to not crush Rhea in his grasp. “I will become your curse.”

“Ya can’t scare us.” The twin mutter, but there is some sign of weakness in his tone.

Connor flicks his hate-filled copper gaze up and pin the other man with them to notice he winces under Connor’s attention. Connor wins the battle of psychological warfare. Even the twin carrying his brother is frozen underneath the strong intimidating aura. Connor ran his fingers along the etchings of one bottle label, a bottle pack closer to the end of his utility belt strap diagonally over his chest. This captain is an alchemist as well, one of the best in the Angoran seas, trained under an even better master alchemist. He, of course, readily prepared his bottles to know each one by touch. His big pad felt the four dotted marks for the foaming statue.

“Ya all talk but no BITE-“

Connor tosses the phial on the floor before the twins. The glass hadn’t shatter yet, so Connor deftly pulls the pistol out and shot straight at the bottle. Nothing happens, and the conscious Armor Brother sneers.

“Ya missed babe-“ The twin can’t form words anymore, the liquid start foaming this thick gray mass and it expands, touching the twin’s leg. The more conscious one panics, trying to escape with his brother in his grasp, only to fall face first. They notice too late; the foam is an adhesive and growing with every struggle. “W-What is dis!?”

Connor didn’t answer him, setting his pistol back to the hoister on his belt. Then taking Rhea’s bow and affixing it over his chest. He adjusts Rhea’s limp body in his arms, having one arm below her shaking back just underneath her quiver and the other beneath her knees. This captain jostles her so that her head rests on his chest, not caring about how this looks to anyone. By now the sticky foam is encompassing the morons up to their chests, the fear of the more awake one almost warms the captain with some joy.

Almost. Connor turns to find his way out of here, ignoring the cries of one of the Armor Brothers.

“EH!? YA CAN’T LEAVE US TO DIE! COME BACK!?”

Ignoring them is easy, easier when they deserve it. No one will get away with challenging the Nightmare Maiden and hurting one of his people. They are not going to die tonight, not while Connor had the darkness of vengeance in the back of his mind. Captain Connor can be an oddly patient and brutal man. Right now, he must save his ire for later. Rhea needs his aid. Connor finds a set of stairs up to another hatch, bursting right up it and out, finding themselves on the quarter deck. The fighting continues, but he bellows out, “THE ARMOR BROTHERS HAVE BEEN CONQUERED!”

His crew roar in victory even as they clash with the living enemy, they chant the Nightmare Maiden’s song. The enemy cower or drop their weapons.

“ The Nightmare Maiden knows no fear.

Wahay, up she steers.

She blows through. Neither beast stops her sails.

She burst through the gods’ wails-“

Connor can’t stay to listen, rushing to get back on the ship and find his surgeon. Some of his crew saw him but didn’t stop him. Rhea’s blood had already stains him everywhere enough for them to notice.

“STEP ASIDE!” Connor barks, not even taking the chance of one person failing to get out of his way. He charges toward the boarding ramp, bounding up it and looking for the first hatch down.