Lynesse

It's Probably Pirates - Part Two

Thankfully, I didn’t die.

My toes hit something sharp and I pushed up and off, my chest feeling fit to burst and my body torn between fighting and just stopping. I broke surface and took a gasping, spluttering breath but there was nowhere for any air to go. The sounds of my splashing and retching filled the small cavern as I beached myself and heaved seawater out of my body and onto the sand.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the illuminated rocks and wheezed, my head spinning and making me feel like the ground was rolling the whole time. There were lights, someone was probably here.

Sure enough.

A goblin loomed over me when I opened my eyes again. I could barely see him over the pistol barrel pointed square at my face. I lashed out, shoving his wrist to the side. He hadn’t been about to shoot but I startled him and the bullet hit sand with a thunderous boom and the smell of spent powder. I rolled to my knees and my fist connected with his face and I felt the cartilage in his nose buckle. His head snapped back, the ridiculous blue combover he had completely unmoved. There was so much product in his hair that it was a fire hazard. Noted.

His teeth, filed down to points, clicked together as he swore loudly, his voice distorted by all the blood in his nose. The Light filled my hand, forming into the familiar shape of a hammer. He tried to bring the gun back around but I braced my arm, keeping it pointed away. With a moderately annoyed smirk I lightly tapped the head of the hammer to his forehead; it was enough of a warning. “Who do you work for?” I asked.

“Th’ fuckin’ Venture Company, an’ proud of it,” he replied, his vowels a little distorted from my delicate treatment of his nose.

I frowned. The Venture Company practically ran Ratchet, but Steamwheedle was trying to get a foothold in. Fuck. It was entirely possible that I’d just wedged myself into a cartel pissing match. My eyes flicked over the cavern behind him. Multiple crates, enough to satisfy the Zhevra if it were the grog, enough to ruin them if it stayed here. Fuckfuckfuck. He took advantage of my distraction.

My lips pulled back across my teeth in a feral snarl as the knife he palmed sliced across my forearm, cutting deep. My magic hammer shimmered and almost vanished as my concentration broke, but I held steady. I didn’t need to be holding it to be effective. With a pulse of energy it vanished from my hand and came crashing down on his annoyingly stationary hairstyle. I heard it crack before he started howling and flailing, dazed and discombobulated. Blood ran in rivulets down my arm as I swung at him again, fist smashing into his temple. He went slack and fell to the ground.

I stood and pressed my hand to my wound, a gentler magic warm in my fingers working to knit the rent muscle and skin back together. This I had to do right. There was no waiting for someone to do it better. They’d have to cut it back open and start fresh if I fucked it up. No thanks.

“Who the bloody hells are you?!”

The Human’s shout in Common shook me out of my work; I wasn’t done, not nearly, but it was a shallower wound and I could live with that. One of the pirates that had brought the cargo. He tugged his lifeline, letting his comrades in the boat know something was wrong. This was about to get real messy real quick.

Bluehair’s skull caved in with a solid slam from my heel, tying up that loose end effectively. Couldn’t have him ratting to the Venture Company. I scooped up the Goblin’s pistol and… Well, I threw it at the new guy charging up from the water. I’m not good with guns. He fumbled for it and dropped it into the water, ruining the powder. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. He had a sword. I (seemingly) had nothing. I dodged as he swung his curved blade at me and unsheathed my knife from my belt. He laughed at me, convinced he’d won. A good knife can get you anywhere, a pirate of all people should know that.

Saveyourbubble, saveyourbubble, saveyourbubble, I chanted in my head as I did my damnedest to dodge his attacks. He was good. I wish I could say I was better, but I did have a serious disadvantage. With a mighty yell I conjured my hammer again and brought it down with some force on his shoulder. I missed a little, don’t judge me. It was enough to bring him to his knees – He hadn’t anticipated Magic of any school. I used the opportunity. Closed the distance and jammed my knife into his throat.

He fell face first onto the ground, blood diffusing into the sand and sea. I was bleeding again, too; Nothing fatal. All of his hits had been shallow enough thanks to my quick reflexes. Two dark shapes were coming in from the tunnel and it was time to move. My fingers closed around the hilt of the dead pirate’s cutlass and I retreated further back towards the crates and the lantern. Anything can be a weapon if you use it right. I grabbed hold of it’s handle and ducked behind a stack of boxes right as they burst up from the water, splashing and shouting. A Human and another Goblin. Great.

They quickly started arguing about the state of their expired employer and comrade, trying to decide if they’d killed each other at the same time or what else might’ve happened. I came out swinging from behind the stolen cargo and slammed the lantern into the Human’s face, dropping him and taking the goblin by surprise. His shout of terror quickly turned into a howl of pain as the cutlass ran him through, blazing with Light.

He coughed and spluttered, blood wetting his lips, his green skin going ashen grey as he bled out and died.

As luck would have it, he’d make the perfect scapegoat.

Things got kind of fuzzy after that, to be honest. I tied all the important crates together, wrapped a chain and some rocks around the body of the Goblin whose image I’d be exploiting, and left the other three dead in the cave (trust me, I made sure they were). With one of their party missing and the crates returned to the inn, it’d look like he’d been paid off to switch. At least, I hoped that’d be what it looked like. I definitely did not and do not ever want to be in the middle of two Cartels fighting over turf in a town like Ratchet.

I used my bubble to give me a few extra seconds of air as I pushed back to shore; That was a good idea, so was using a little of my magic as a light source. Kinda stupid not to have done that in the first place, to be honest. Personally, I didn’t want to lug the shit all the way back to town so I stashed it behind the rock where all my gear was, suited back up, and walked alone.

Understandably, the proprietor of the Zhevra was suspicious. He was markedly less suspicious and actually mildly pleased when I took him to the spot where his stolen grog was. A few coins made him forget what I looked like or if I’d helped him or not, unless an Orc named Zahi asked.

With that job wrapped up, I made my way back to Silvermoon and crashed out on my couch. All’s well that ends well.