Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Pariah ❯ The Pariah ( Prologue )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Verity 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.06.2007 | Updated On: 01.06.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 4.9K | Visits: 124 | Status: Completed
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.06.2007 | Updated On: 01.06.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 4.9K | Visits: 124 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: The Pariah and all its contents belong to me, Verity. Now that that is settled, onto the story.
Prologue:
Pariah
Everything is always much more different when one is close to death. The strong wind bellied the sails and men who seemed like ants from afar crawled and moved across the rigging. But out of all one of them stood at figure head a woman with crossed eyes and shut eyes, hair swirling as if the wind brushed with a gentle caress. He stood there and watched with intent eyes with eyes as pale as winter. Arms crossed over his chest and a scowl appearing over his face. His eyes were set upon the ship that seemed to desperately try and avoid them. This dance was not necessary. He turned his head and shouted out. "Fire the ballista! Now! Now…!" And the first mate took his call his voice was deeper and made for bellowing including the threat that the deckhands would be tossed over deck if they didn't scramble for it. The fat merchant ship tried to lose them by turning swift to get into the wind. Why did they even try? One, two, three, There was silence and then the sound and shutter of wood below him as two thick balls of iron shot out with a thick chain holding the two. They flew through the air soaring and he watched it, a precise shot. It landed into the rigging of the ship, tearing sails and the crows nest as the iron pieces dropped to its deck with a sickening thud. The ship was being turned, his ship...They will catch up and he smiled the bloodlust of the fight was already rising in him. "This is our fight!" He shouted to his men while spinning to meet them. Hands on his hips and hat tilted back. His blonde hair was unruly and thick, nearly seeming chestnut as it caressed the sides of his face, wind burnt cheeks and dark stubble upon his cheeks and jaw line. His eyes went over his crew and he smiled. His blue jacket whipped with the sash over his waist. It resembled the crow flag of his ship, his leggings dark and worn. His boots came up his legs, thick of leather and oiled down.
Swiftly their ship had caught up to the fat merchant ship. They did not give up as easily as they seemed to believe this was their last stand that even if they gave in they would not receive mercy. Grappling hooks shot forwards, breaking railings and tearing into the deck. Some shooting into the rigging and sails and into the hull with such force that it tore the wood away. He was the first to cross. "Kill them!" He roared over the foaming waves as their ships pulled closer together. There was nothing else quite like the thrill one received on the brink of death. Everything is always much more different when one is close to death a berserker's laugh as he slashed and parried through the crowd of fighters. They were no true challenge but there were a few. The haze of it all - It was all wrong. He realized it then when he spotted the captain laughing as the merchant white flag unfurled into a red stout wall upon the rigging…from the pull of a rope. From below deck the enemy rushed out. "To Pariah…!" He heard a familiar voice and he was surrounded not by enemies but by his fellow deckhands. He rushed headlong into this, chasing this fat merchant vessel. When he looked over the heads to his own he saw the enemy clamber over. He had only a skeleton of a crew there...This would be a massacre. He shouted with all his might. "Get them off my ship!" Only then did he realize the deck was sticky and slippery with blood, his good clothes would be stained in browns and deep red by then. The Patience was being overrun. His beauty of a ship...How could this happen. He left behind his protectors as they followed his heels and slashed and dashed all those who came near. Already there were knots of battles upon his ship. How dare they bloody his ship?! He flung himself off the deck and caught a line, swinging himself through the air without much thought as he found the familiar deck underfoot. "Gut that damned ship!" He shouted out to the ballista hands down below. He was surprised they had actually heard his voice. for the next thing he heard was ball and chain flinging through the hull of the other ship. "I said gut it!" He screamed and then there was another horrid tremor that shook the other ship. His own men were beginning to return leaving the fighting. The ship was becoming unstable now. Most of the enemy that had managed to even clamber over onto his own were being killed off and tossed over board. His blade was dripping and his face flushed with the excitement of the berserker's rage. Without noticing it his arm was slashed and his jacket was torn loose at the front so now it flapped in the wind in an unruly fashion. His shirtfront dirty with blood as he stood there. The captain on the other deck was shouting orders and soon they were advancing. Pariah's own men readied themselves swords and knives in hand. Iron pieces that could knock a man out were being flung over to catch men as they swung, knocking them from the lines and to the water below.
There was no such thing as a fair fight at sea. Once they even placed a foot upon his railing his men slashed at them and dropped them where they were, sickening the way they twisted and fell from the railing and knocked across the hull and into the water below. His men shouted a war cry as they fought a song of steel and a dance. This was supposed to be just another pick, to take off another merchant ship and possibly some noble folk for ransom. Yet it turned out to be much more. He was warned, Pariah was warned beforehand. Pirates were beginning to lose their respect for the man for what he did. He should have listened and he could have avoided this bloodshed. He ducked under a slash and caught someone in the chest. Rising his foot and kicking from the person's gut to pull free his sword as he snorted in disdain and paced the deck as if nothing had happened. The other ship was beginning to turn into its side now, another snort this time of disdain. They would have to finish this, now, if he were to salvage anything of worth on that vessel. He looked to the other ship it seemed their captain was in anger. Face red as he shouted to his mate and crew to cross. Someone ran at Pariah but for naught...He would have been caught he knew but all the same he believed in his luck. One of his men caught the running back with an axe in the head. The hand stooped and picked up the axe as he spat "Cap'n" He muttered and went back to killing as if it were some normal part of their day. Pariah watched...All this bloodshed...Pirates should be in unity not against one another. He frowned over it all, his beautiful Patience. He could see the figure head sobbing, keening into the air as if she were live. They were coming, the captain and the last wave of folk. Pariah went forwards to join them, to join in the last fight. His sword rose and he met the captain head on. Another captain would die; another would meet their end for the reason for what he was. The battle was heated as he slashed forwards; the captain was larger and near looked like he would break through the railing. He jumped onto the deck and met Pariah's blade. No one joined in that fight. That was only thing fair of such sea fights, captains were left to battle it out with themselves. The familiar ground gave Pariah an upper hand but the man was larger, stronger and all that muscle well...Made him slow. He couldn't help but smile a wry smile as he dodged and ducked.
He was stepping back, inch by inch. Parrying his blade away and sending a slash across his chest to make blood bubble from the cut. Pariah parried the blade and brought the tip to his own to the man's chin, nicking him as he did so with a grin. "Yield" The man spat at him and he stepped away nearly being hit with the spit, another one leaving this world. His sword stood and shook to an when it something hit it's hit. It was pierced deep into the other's gut who slumped forwards coughing and gagging, gurgling and dying. He pulled his blade free and wiped the blood on his leggings. It was already ruined anyhow. When had killed the man all fighting seemed to cease. A captain was a King on their ship, his word was law. Now those he called enemies were nothing more than common folk...Freemen. They gave up their blades willing and dropped to their knees with hands behind their heads. Somehow his hat was knocked off during the whole thing so when the mate came over with it and a big fat grin on his face he extended it over and his captain took it with a nod. "Cap'n" He said in a thick accent that one could hardly tell what he was saying. Hell, sometimes he himself didn't know! But when one was so accustomed to hearing: I'll kick your ass so bad you'll be bleeding out of it! Then it didn't matter what accent or language he spoke in. He stepped closer and looked over his captives and pointed at them with his sword before sheathing it. "Go on that ship and get me anything valuable and I’ll possibly think of letting you live." Despite the fact it was hard for him to give an intimidating look with his pale eyes the men shuddered and stood and went off to join them. Pariah stopped his men from following to make sure they did the job well. "No use. That ship will sink soon, i'll be surprised if they'll be able to fetch anything" He murmured. The crew cheered in triumph as Pariah climbed his way to the front of his ship...His beautiful ship. He leaned over the railing and placed a hand upon the hair of the figure head. She felt as if she were full of life. "I apologize for the mess" He said to her as he stroked the finely done locks of her hair as if she were a true woman.
He did not need to speak the actions that needed to take place for the first mate, Joer, already ordered them about. "Wash these decks!" He would say, everyone knew Pariah had loathed the look of a messy deck, even if a scratch came across the wood of his deck whoever had done such a thing would earn a lash. He took pride in his ship. "Check their pockets! Toss them over board!" The stench was already beginning to fill the air thick blood, guts and loose bowels. He bent his head forwards and shut his eyes tight. "Retrieve those hooks!" The first mate growled. Each hand did their job crawling over the deck like bugs checking pockets and pouches, ripping jewelry without remorse from the dead sailor's bodies and tipping them over the railing. Last of all was their captain. It took three men to lift him and toss him over board. What was taking them so long to leave that worthless merchant ship behind? He called for Joer. "We're leaving" The mate looked at him with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. "Are we not going to wait for the captives?" Pariah looked back to his mate with a scowl. "And…?" Pariah looked at him, Joer slowly nodded, reluctantly and turned to shout the orders to pull free. As if panic filled the merchant vessel the captives rushed to the deck and tried all they could to fling themselves through the distance between both ships. Most fell to the water; some clung to the railings with vast desperation. If they can pull themselves up then let them be. If not, they're simply not worth my time. He thought as he leaned into the railing. "I should have listened" He told the figurehead. If she were live she'd be a beauty he knew, vibrant raven hair, flesh wind burnt and pink. Lips flush and eyes of honey, his lovely ship. He pulled away from it and stepped across the deck. Her sails were already bellied with air perfectly, moving swift and deft through the water. It seemed the ocean itself parted for Patience. There were few left on the merchant vessel that weren't stupid enough to attempt a jump. They waved their hands frantically and shouted with all the power in their lungs. They would be left...The ship was already sinking steadily and they would die of it unless they could swim their way to shore.
Pariah strode down the deck like a King in his hall, he stopped beside his mate who gave him a look and well knowing smile. "Let's go home and show them that I live." Pariah told him and turned to leave the deck, going down below. He could already hear his mate bellowing out the orders to take them to port, to home. If the ones who were against him truly wanted a show he would give them one. He could only imagine the way they'd look at him. He made him laugh and smile foolishly as he pushed into his stateroom and shut the door behind him. There was a table secured to the floorboards and two seats at either side whenever he had a guest aboard, which was less than often. There was bunk, a bit larger than the ones that were set for the other deckhands. A bookcase secured to the wall with books fastened behind a grate that held them in. A table in the secured to the floor and wall beside it with a rack of maps filled out with routes that were able to be pulled down. There were two portholes that gave him the view of the outside, the ocean always changing. There were three chests filled with fabrics of all sorts of shades, trinkets of many kinds, even little figurines for children with such skill placed into it that one would think it live. These were the things he kept...He would never sell them. His large bag drooped on a hook filled with clothing and the like. He undid his sword belt and placed it on a hook near his bag. Next his hat came as he placed it there and pulled the kerchief free of his hair. Sweat plastered his forehead, hair a muss from the battle. There was a knock at the door. "Come in" The door opened and it was the cook a bit of broth in a small bowl and a cup of rum, balanced on his forearm a wash basin steaming with a rag drooping from its side. "Cap'n" He said while setting it all down on the table. Someone stood in the doorway after the cook left. "May I?" It was his first mate. Pariah nodded and pulled his seat to sit down and with a flick of his hand a command to shut the door. Joer moved over and sat down across from him. He was an old man, much more years on him than Pariah himself. He washed his hands in the washbasin and dried them on the rag, taking away the sweat, dirt and blood. Rising the rag he washed it from his face and slipped off his jacket as it draped over the head of his seat. The cuffs of his shirt was soiled, a waste. He rolled them up and lifted his bowl to start eating. "We're bound for port" Pariah nodded to his mate’s words as Joer cleared his throat. After a bite Pariah raised his eyes. "Is that all you wanted to say?" Despite the paleness of his eyes no one ever could meet his eyes, he watched Joer struggle for something to lock his eyes on. "Well?" "Cap'n...The men...They're a bit uneasy..." "And…?" Joer looked at him with a bit of shock on his face. "We lost three good men today.." Pariah sighed, truly it was a loss...They were truly good men who'd follow him into any sort of danger no matter what the cost and lately with the uprising against his ways and the constant attacks on him and his crew were sending them on major losses.
"Do we still have their bodies?" Joer nodded "We'll mourn them and bury them at sea then." Joer nodded once more. "The men would like that" His first mate had started to stand and went for the door…He worked the latch and then looked back to his captain. "Cap'n?" Pariah looked up at the word. "When will you finally tell me your true name?" Pariah smiled some. Every day Joer would ask the same question and every day Pariah would end it the same way. "One day" He said simply and nodded his head. Joer looked on and echoed him "One day" And left Pariah there. There would be more death before it was all over; he knew it all too well as his eyes dropped to his bowl of broth. The world would be his one day.
* * *
It was days before they reached port, familiar ground...Some would call it home. It wasn't truly home to him, his home was his ship. When they had pulled in Pariah sauntered across the deck to the figurehead. She seemed vivid and alive, watching the dirty port with her eyes. The stench of it all was stinging to the eyes. The wind seemed to sweep it over deck. The smell of roasted meat; perfumes and women, sweat, blood, mud and grease. The smell of ashes and the sea the chorus of footsteps and calls of folk, the sound of ships bumping into the docks and the sound of a tightened thick rope. Planks set down to cross down to the dock but Pariah decided to stay a short while to watch the men on liberty walk off into the town to spend their gained coin and sell off their share of the wares. It would all be wasted tonight on drink and whores. A frown went across his features as he thought of it. He was not their King but only their captain, whatever they chose to do with their earned coin that was their business. After all it would make him a hypocrite if he spoke out against it. For on rare occasions he would do such a thing as well. It was a natural thing to seek comfort in the feeling of flesh against flesh, to release stress and gain pleasure. All this he thought of with his hand on the railing, his eyes dropped from the port town in which he was watching with Patience. She still was still and silent as always. He reached down and touched her hair. They would spend time here, selling off what items they had scrounged up in the time they spent at sea. Unfortunately it was not much but enough to keep his crew cheerful.
He had done what he had wanted to, he had gotten odd looks and scowls. Men grimaced at him whenever they saw him and then there were the ones who cheered him and spoke of him as if he were a blessed thing. He couldn't help but smile at that. He would not die...It was his fate, he would live to be an old man he was told. He would be infamous throughout the world; he will rule the world with his lady by his side. His beautiful beloved ship and behind her fluttering at the skirts of bubbling water as she parted through the sea would be his fleet. Conquering all that stood in his path.
It was night and this was the last night he'd have in town before they went out to scavenge the open seas. Rumors had spread fast of the battle Pariah had partaken in, Patience versus a mock Merchant. This night was different than all...He had received threats some directly and some indirectly towards him but this was much more different than all. He ate at an inn, sipping his ale that tasted as if it were the last bit on the bottom of the keg. The food was decent but that was it, just decent. Then he came. A burly man with a thick chest and arms, he slammed his palms down on the table so hard that Pariah's mug sloshed with drink and his plate jumped, the bit of food that was left went along with it. Pariah did not startle though. Instead he looked up with distaste at the man. "You…!" The man said to him and Pariah just regarded him with a twitch at the corner of his lips that turned into a smile. "Me?" "If you keep this up you will give a bad name to us all!" "Oh is that so? So I will give you marauders a bad name?" Pariah leaned back but his smile never leaving his face, a hand on his knee and the other inching close to the hilt of his blade. "And what are you afraid of?" "The King will send warships out to rid of us if word reaches him of this!" He shouted at him. All in the room seemed to still with all eyes on the pair. Pariah continued to smile. "If they do then we shall kill them" He said with ease and a languid gesture of his hand. But the face the man put on was one of annoyance. "They far out number us Pariah...Stop your games...No one will follow you on their little crusade" The man spat at him and it nearly hit him but he shifted for it to fly past him. Pariah stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword as the fat Inn keep came over with fear quivering in his voice. "No! No fighting in here! No!" The small man shouted. "It's time to meet your maker Pariah. You are not considering all that will happen if you continue this. Many will die!" "You are afraid! I will capture the world and you need not fear any warships any longer for all will follow me!" That drove the other to the brink. Before he knew it the table was kicked over and Pariah danced around it and pulled his sword free.
It was all so fast. The sound of the hearth and the clatter of mugs against the table, seats being pushed back and sailors standing, the Inn keeper and his servants squealing out in horror. The man had tossed up a chair that Pariah had no other choice but to dance around. The other had freed out a cudgel and the thought of being beaten to death by it made him smile wider. He wouldn't die anyway; the man was too slow, all thick and slows whilst he was quick and agile. The folk had picked up a chant, urging them on while the Innkeeper kept screaming at them. No guards would be coming...This port held no guards. How unfortunate for him. The thick man went forwards with his cudgel, Pariah blocked it with an arm and felt pain shudder through his flesh…He'd have a bruise, a big one most like he surmised. His body stepped in and sword flew down and caught him on the wrist, not just disarming him but ripping off his hand in one easy blow. The man roared in a fury as if he did not feel it and went at him with his other arm to try and grab him by the hair. Pariah turned and slammed his sword into his gut and pushed him forwards and into a table that sent his enemy falling back to lay sprawled over it. "Anyone else…?" He demanded in an even voice while prying his sword free, blood welled up in the wound as the man gurgled up blood. Pariah turned on them like a storm cloud. Kerchief wrapped about his head with a few strands of chestnut hair caressing the sides of his face. He stepped back to his table and pulled it upright and retrieved his hat, placing it on his head and returning back to the dying man. "You could have avoided this. Now look what you've done" He rebuked the gurgling man while wiping his sword against his pant leg before reaching to the belt and snapping free the other's money pouch. Pariah tossed it towards the Innkeeper "That should pay for damages - Shut up all the lot of you!" And the folk had quieted down as he turned in a circle. When they had gone to silence he spoke. "Let this all be a warning to you" He paused as he pointed his sword to them all, it gleamed in the firelight. "I will kill anyone who crosses my path.." When he pleased with that he pointed to the dead man whose head lolled off to the side, blood pooled from his mouth."Do not end up like him" He slipped his sword away and turned for the door. He left and was pleased to hear the erupt of talk from inside as it drifted out of the door.
There was a moment of stillness and a wicked smile floated across his face as he had begun to leave the Inn behind. A waste of coin, his dinner was ruined and he spilled blood. Oh well, whatever had to be done to bring the point across. He knew now he would have to leave port soon, if the man's crew were to find the dead sailor there would be a much larger predicament. Either way he couldn't keep the smug smile from his lips as he sauntered towards the docks. There was only one safe place for him to be now, his ship, Patience.
When Pariah reached the planks to clamber on board he went on to seek out his mate. He came across three of the sailors on watch, they sat in a circle with a lantern hanging above them on a railing to give them light as they played dice and shared from a flask of brandy. He would have approached them and called them out for doing such a thing but he ignored it and on he went. He had found his mate at the helm despite the fact the ship was anchored in, hands on the spokes and staring out distantly. Pariah came up on his side and looked on ahead. "Cap'n?" Joer looked to him as if he were pinched out of a day dream; Joer must have just realized Pariah standing there with his hands clasped behind his back. "We leave on the break of dawn. Send someone out to gather up the rest of my crew" "Aye, aye" Joer dropped his hands from the spokes and started to step away before Pariah stopped him with a word. "Tomorrow we are going to the Arbor..." Joer looked at him. "You mean?" "Yes, tomorrow." Joer nodded slowly and went off quicker than before. Pariah set his hands on the spokes. He held them carefully, gently, as if it were a woman. His ship responded with the slightest movement. Tomorrow they will take Gold Arbor and show all these bastards that what he meant should not be taken lightly, he will show them his strength.
Prologue:
Pariah
Everything is always much more different when one is close to death. The strong wind bellied the sails and men who seemed like ants from afar crawled and moved across the rigging. But out of all one of them stood at figure head a woman with crossed eyes and shut eyes, hair swirling as if the wind brushed with a gentle caress. He stood there and watched with intent eyes with eyes as pale as winter. Arms crossed over his chest and a scowl appearing over his face. His eyes were set upon the ship that seemed to desperately try and avoid them. This dance was not necessary. He turned his head and shouted out. "Fire the ballista! Now! Now…!" And the first mate took his call his voice was deeper and made for bellowing including the threat that the deckhands would be tossed over deck if they didn't scramble for it. The fat merchant ship tried to lose them by turning swift to get into the wind. Why did they even try? One, two, three, There was silence and then the sound and shutter of wood below him as two thick balls of iron shot out with a thick chain holding the two. They flew through the air soaring and he watched it, a precise shot. It landed into the rigging of the ship, tearing sails and the crows nest as the iron pieces dropped to its deck with a sickening thud. The ship was being turned, his ship...They will catch up and he smiled the bloodlust of the fight was already rising in him. "This is our fight!" He shouted to his men while spinning to meet them. Hands on his hips and hat tilted back. His blonde hair was unruly and thick, nearly seeming chestnut as it caressed the sides of his face, wind burnt cheeks and dark stubble upon his cheeks and jaw line. His eyes went over his crew and he smiled. His blue jacket whipped with the sash over his waist. It resembled the crow flag of his ship, his leggings dark and worn. His boots came up his legs, thick of leather and oiled down.
Swiftly their ship had caught up to the fat merchant ship. They did not give up as easily as they seemed to believe this was their last stand that even if they gave in they would not receive mercy. Grappling hooks shot forwards, breaking railings and tearing into the deck. Some shooting into the rigging and sails and into the hull with such force that it tore the wood away. He was the first to cross. "Kill them!" He roared over the foaming waves as their ships pulled closer together. There was nothing else quite like the thrill one received on the brink of death. Everything is always much more different when one is close to death a berserker's laugh as he slashed and parried through the crowd of fighters. They were no true challenge but there were a few. The haze of it all - It was all wrong. He realized it then when he spotted the captain laughing as the merchant white flag unfurled into a red stout wall upon the rigging…from the pull of a rope. From below deck the enemy rushed out. "To Pariah…!" He heard a familiar voice and he was surrounded not by enemies but by his fellow deckhands. He rushed headlong into this, chasing this fat merchant vessel. When he looked over the heads to his own he saw the enemy clamber over. He had only a skeleton of a crew there...This would be a massacre. He shouted with all his might. "Get them off my ship!" Only then did he realize the deck was sticky and slippery with blood, his good clothes would be stained in browns and deep red by then. The Patience was being overrun. His beauty of a ship...How could this happen. He left behind his protectors as they followed his heels and slashed and dashed all those who came near. Already there were knots of battles upon his ship. How dare they bloody his ship?! He flung himself off the deck and caught a line, swinging himself through the air without much thought as he found the familiar deck underfoot. "Gut that damned ship!" He shouted out to the ballista hands down below. He was surprised they had actually heard his voice. for the next thing he heard was ball and chain flinging through the hull of the other ship. "I said gut it!" He screamed and then there was another horrid tremor that shook the other ship. His own men were beginning to return leaving the fighting. The ship was becoming unstable now. Most of the enemy that had managed to even clamber over onto his own were being killed off and tossed over board. His blade was dripping and his face flushed with the excitement of the berserker's rage. Without noticing it his arm was slashed and his jacket was torn loose at the front so now it flapped in the wind in an unruly fashion. His shirtfront dirty with blood as he stood there. The captain on the other deck was shouting orders and soon they were advancing. Pariah's own men readied themselves swords and knives in hand. Iron pieces that could knock a man out were being flung over to catch men as they swung, knocking them from the lines and to the water below.
There was no such thing as a fair fight at sea. Once they even placed a foot upon his railing his men slashed at them and dropped them where they were, sickening the way they twisted and fell from the railing and knocked across the hull and into the water below. His men shouted a war cry as they fought a song of steel and a dance. This was supposed to be just another pick, to take off another merchant ship and possibly some noble folk for ransom. Yet it turned out to be much more. He was warned, Pariah was warned beforehand. Pirates were beginning to lose their respect for the man for what he did. He should have listened and he could have avoided this bloodshed. He ducked under a slash and caught someone in the chest. Rising his foot and kicking from the person's gut to pull free his sword as he snorted in disdain and paced the deck as if nothing had happened. The other ship was beginning to turn into its side now, another snort this time of disdain. They would have to finish this, now, if he were to salvage anything of worth on that vessel. He looked to the other ship it seemed their captain was in anger. Face red as he shouted to his mate and crew to cross. Someone ran at Pariah but for naught...He would have been caught he knew but all the same he believed in his luck. One of his men caught the running back with an axe in the head. The hand stooped and picked up the axe as he spat "Cap'n" He muttered and went back to killing as if it were some normal part of their day. Pariah watched...All this bloodshed...Pirates should be in unity not against one another. He frowned over it all, his beautiful Patience. He could see the figure head sobbing, keening into the air as if she were live. They were coming, the captain and the last wave of folk. Pariah went forwards to join them, to join in the last fight. His sword rose and he met the captain head on. Another captain would die; another would meet their end for the reason for what he was. The battle was heated as he slashed forwards; the captain was larger and near looked like he would break through the railing. He jumped onto the deck and met Pariah's blade. No one joined in that fight. That was only thing fair of such sea fights, captains were left to battle it out with themselves. The familiar ground gave Pariah an upper hand but the man was larger, stronger and all that muscle well...Made him slow. He couldn't help but smile a wry smile as he dodged and ducked.
He was stepping back, inch by inch. Parrying his blade away and sending a slash across his chest to make blood bubble from the cut. Pariah parried the blade and brought the tip to his own to the man's chin, nicking him as he did so with a grin. "Yield" The man spat at him and he stepped away nearly being hit with the spit, another one leaving this world. His sword stood and shook to an when it something hit it's hit. It was pierced deep into the other's gut who slumped forwards coughing and gagging, gurgling and dying. He pulled his blade free and wiped the blood on his leggings. It was already ruined anyhow. When had killed the man all fighting seemed to cease. A captain was a King on their ship, his word was law. Now those he called enemies were nothing more than common folk...Freemen. They gave up their blades willing and dropped to their knees with hands behind their heads. Somehow his hat was knocked off during the whole thing so when the mate came over with it and a big fat grin on his face he extended it over and his captain took it with a nod. "Cap'n" He said in a thick accent that one could hardly tell what he was saying. Hell, sometimes he himself didn't know! But when one was so accustomed to hearing: I'll kick your ass so bad you'll be bleeding out of it! Then it didn't matter what accent or language he spoke in. He stepped closer and looked over his captives and pointed at them with his sword before sheathing it. "Go on that ship and get me anything valuable and I’ll possibly think of letting you live." Despite the fact it was hard for him to give an intimidating look with his pale eyes the men shuddered and stood and went off to join them. Pariah stopped his men from following to make sure they did the job well. "No use. That ship will sink soon, i'll be surprised if they'll be able to fetch anything" He murmured. The crew cheered in triumph as Pariah climbed his way to the front of his ship...His beautiful ship. He leaned over the railing and placed a hand upon the hair of the figure head. She felt as if she were full of life. "I apologize for the mess" He said to her as he stroked the finely done locks of her hair as if she were a true woman.
He did not need to speak the actions that needed to take place for the first mate, Joer, already ordered them about. "Wash these decks!" He would say, everyone knew Pariah had loathed the look of a messy deck, even if a scratch came across the wood of his deck whoever had done such a thing would earn a lash. He took pride in his ship. "Check their pockets! Toss them over board!" The stench was already beginning to fill the air thick blood, guts and loose bowels. He bent his head forwards and shut his eyes tight. "Retrieve those hooks!" The first mate growled. Each hand did their job crawling over the deck like bugs checking pockets and pouches, ripping jewelry without remorse from the dead sailor's bodies and tipping them over the railing. Last of all was their captain. It took three men to lift him and toss him over board. What was taking them so long to leave that worthless merchant ship behind? He called for Joer. "We're leaving" The mate looked at him with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. "Are we not going to wait for the captives?" Pariah looked back to his mate with a scowl. "And…?" Pariah looked at him, Joer slowly nodded, reluctantly and turned to shout the orders to pull free. As if panic filled the merchant vessel the captives rushed to the deck and tried all they could to fling themselves through the distance between both ships. Most fell to the water; some clung to the railings with vast desperation. If they can pull themselves up then let them be. If not, they're simply not worth my time. He thought as he leaned into the railing. "I should have listened" He told the figurehead. If she were live she'd be a beauty he knew, vibrant raven hair, flesh wind burnt and pink. Lips flush and eyes of honey, his lovely ship. He pulled away from it and stepped across the deck. Her sails were already bellied with air perfectly, moving swift and deft through the water. It seemed the ocean itself parted for Patience. There were few left on the merchant vessel that weren't stupid enough to attempt a jump. They waved their hands frantically and shouted with all the power in their lungs. They would be left...The ship was already sinking steadily and they would die of it unless they could swim their way to shore.
Pariah strode down the deck like a King in his hall, he stopped beside his mate who gave him a look and well knowing smile. "Let's go home and show them that I live." Pariah told him and turned to leave the deck, going down below. He could already hear his mate bellowing out the orders to take them to port, to home. If the ones who were against him truly wanted a show he would give them one. He could only imagine the way they'd look at him. He made him laugh and smile foolishly as he pushed into his stateroom and shut the door behind him. There was a table secured to the floorboards and two seats at either side whenever he had a guest aboard, which was less than often. There was bunk, a bit larger than the ones that were set for the other deckhands. A bookcase secured to the wall with books fastened behind a grate that held them in. A table in the secured to the floor and wall beside it with a rack of maps filled out with routes that were able to be pulled down. There were two portholes that gave him the view of the outside, the ocean always changing. There were three chests filled with fabrics of all sorts of shades, trinkets of many kinds, even little figurines for children with such skill placed into it that one would think it live. These were the things he kept...He would never sell them. His large bag drooped on a hook filled with clothing and the like. He undid his sword belt and placed it on a hook near his bag. Next his hat came as he placed it there and pulled the kerchief free of his hair. Sweat plastered his forehead, hair a muss from the battle. There was a knock at the door. "Come in" The door opened and it was the cook a bit of broth in a small bowl and a cup of rum, balanced on his forearm a wash basin steaming with a rag drooping from its side. "Cap'n" He said while setting it all down on the table. Someone stood in the doorway after the cook left. "May I?" It was his first mate. Pariah nodded and pulled his seat to sit down and with a flick of his hand a command to shut the door. Joer moved over and sat down across from him. He was an old man, much more years on him than Pariah himself. He washed his hands in the washbasin and dried them on the rag, taking away the sweat, dirt and blood. Rising the rag he washed it from his face and slipped off his jacket as it draped over the head of his seat. The cuffs of his shirt was soiled, a waste. He rolled them up and lifted his bowl to start eating. "We're bound for port" Pariah nodded to his mate’s words as Joer cleared his throat. After a bite Pariah raised his eyes. "Is that all you wanted to say?" Despite the paleness of his eyes no one ever could meet his eyes, he watched Joer struggle for something to lock his eyes on. "Well?" "Cap'n...The men...They're a bit uneasy..." "And…?" Joer looked at him with a bit of shock on his face. "We lost three good men today.." Pariah sighed, truly it was a loss...They were truly good men who'd follow him into any sort of danger no matter what the cost and lately with the uprising against his ways and the constant attacks on him and his crew were sending them on major losses.
"Do we still have their bodies?" Joer nodded "We'll mourn them and bury them at sea then." Joer nodded once more. "The men would like that" His first mate had started to stand and went for the door…He worked the latch and then looked back to his captain. "Cap'n?" Pariah looked up at the word. "When will you finally tell me your true name?" Pariah smiled some. Every day Joer would ask the same question and every day Pariah would end it the same way. "One day" He said simply and nodded his head. Joer looked on and echoed him "One day" And left Pariah there. There would be more death before it was all over; he knew it all too well as his eyes dropped to his bowl of broth. The world would be his one day.
* * *
It was days before they reached port, familiar ground...Some would call it home. It wasn't truly home to him, his home was his ship. When they had pulled in Pariah sauntered across the deck to the figurehead. She seemed vivid and alive, watching the dirty port with her eyes. The stench of it all was stinging to the eyes. The wind seemed to sweep it over deck. The smell of roasted meat; perfumes and women, sweat, blood, mud and grease. The smell of ashes and the sea the chorus of footsteps and calls of folk, the sound of ships bumping into the docks and the sound of a tightened thick rope. Planks set down to cross down to the dock but Pariah decided to stay a short while to watch the men on liberty walk off into the town to spend their gained coin and sell off their share of the wares. It would all be wasted tonight on drink and whores. A frown went across his features as he thought of it. He was not their King but only their captain, whatever they chose to do with their earned coin that was their business. After all it would make him a hypocrite if he spoke out against it. For on rare occasions he would do such a thing as well. It was a natural thing to seek comfort in the feeling of flesh against flesh, to release stress and gain pleasure. All this he thought of with his hand on the railing, his eyes dropped from the port town in which he was watching with Patience. She still was still and silent as always. He reached down and touched her hair. They would spend time here, selling off what items they had scrounged up in the time they spent at sea. Unfortunately it was not much but enough to keep his crew cheerful.
He had done what he had wanted to, he had gotten odd looks and scowls. Men grimaced at him whenever they saw him and then there were the ones who cheered him and spoke of him as if he were a blessed thing. He couldn't help but smile at that. He would not die...It was his fate, he would live to be an old man he was told. He would be infamous throughout the world; he will rule the world with his lady by his side. His beautiful beloved ship and behind her fluttering at the skirts of bubbling water as she parted through the sea would be his fleet. Conquering all that stood in his path.
It was night and this was the last night he'd have in town before they went out to scavenge the open seas. Rumors had spread fast of the battle Pariah had partaken in, Patience versus a mock Merchant. This night was different than all...He had received threats some directly and some indirectly towards him but this was much more different than all. He ate at an inn, sipping his ale that tasted as if it were the last bit on the bottom of the keg. The food was decent but that was it, just decent. Then he came. A burly man with a thick chest and arms, he slammed his palms down on the table so hard that Pariah's mug sloshed with drink and his plate jumped, the bit of food that was left went along with it. Pariah did not startle though. Instead he looked up with distaste at the man. "You…!" The man said to him and Pariah just regarded him with a twitch at the corner of his lips that turned into a smile. "Me?" "If you keep this up you will give a bad name to us all!" "Oh is that so? So I will give you marauders a bad name?" Pariah leaned back but his smile never leaving his face, a hand on his knee and the other inching close to the hilt of his blade. "And what are you afraid of?" "The King will send warships out to rid of us if word reaches him of this!" He shouted at him. All in the room seemed to still with all eyes on the pair. Pariah continued to smile. "If they do then we shall kill them" He said with ease and a languid gesture of his hand. But the face the man put on was one of annoyance. "They far out number us Pariah...Stop your games...No one will follow you on their little crusade" The man spat at him and it nearly hit him but he shifted for it to fly past him. Pariah stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword as the fat Inn keep came over with fear quivering in his voice. "No! No fighting in here! No!" The small man shouted. "It's time to meet your maker Pariah. You are not considering all that will happen if you continue this. Many will die!" "You are afraid! I will capture the world and you need not fear any warships any longer for all will follow me!" That drove the other to the brink. Before he knew it the table was kicked over and Pariah danced around it and pulled his sword free.
It was all so fast. The sound of the hearth and the clatter of mugs against the table, seats being pushed back and sailors standing, the Inn keeper and his servants squealing out in horror. The man had tossed up a chair that Pariah had no other choice but to dance around. The other had freed out a cudgel and the thought of being beaten to death by it made him smile wider. He wouldn't die anyway; the man was too slow, all thick and slows whilst he was quick and agile. The folk had picked up a chant, urging them on while the Innkeeper kept screaming at them. No guards would be coming...This port held no guards. How unfortunate for him. The thick man went forwards with his cudgel, Pariah blocked it with an arm and felt pain shudder through his flesh…He'd have a bruise, a big one most like he surmised. His body stepped in and sword flew down and caught him on the wrist, not just disarming him but ripping off his hand in one easy blow. The man roared in a fury as if he did not feel it and went at him with his other arm to try and grab him by the hair. Pariah turned and slammed his sword into his gut and pushed him forwards and into a table that sent his enemy falling back to lay sprawled over it. "Anyone else…?" He demanded in an even voice while prying his sword free, blood welled up in the wound as the man gurgled up blood. Pariah turned on them like a storm cloud. Kerchief wrapped about his head with a few strands of chestnut hair caressing the sides of his face. He stepped back to his table and pulled it upright and retrieved his hat, placing it on his head and returning back to the dying man. "You could have avoided this. Now look what you've done" He rebuked the gurgling man while wiping his sword against his pant leg before reaching to the belt and snapping free the other's money pouch. Pariah tossed it towards the Innkeeper "That should pay for damages - Shut up all the lot of you!" And the folk had quieted down as he turned in a circle. When they had gone to silence he spoke. "Let this all be a warning to you" He paused as he pointed his sword to them all, it gleamed in the firelight. "I will kill anyone who crosses my path.." When he pleased with that he pointed to the dead man whose head lolled off to the side, blood pooled from his mouth."Do not end up like him" He slipped his sword away and turned for the door. He left and was pleased to hear the erupt of talk from inside as it drifted out of the door.
There was a moment of stillness and a wicked smile floated across his face as he had begun to leave the Inn behind. A waste of coin, his dinner was ruined and he spilled blood. Oh well, whatever had to be done to bring the point across. He knew now he would have to leave port soon, if the man's crew were to find the dead sailor there would be a much larger predicament. Either way he couldn't keep the smug smile from his lips as he sauntered towards the docks. There was only one safe place for him to be now, his ship, Patience.
When Pariah reached the planks to clamber on board he went on to seek out his mate. He came across three of the sailors on watch, they sat in a circle with a lantern hanging above them on a railing to give them light as they played dice and shared from a flask of brandy. He would have approached them and called them out for doing such a thing but he ignored it and on he went. He had found his mate at the helm despite the fact the ship was anchored in, hands on the spokes and staring out distantly. Pariah came up on his side and looked on ahead. "Cap'n?" Joer looked to him as if he were pinched out of a day dream; Joer must have just realized Pariah standing there with his hands clasped behind his back. "We leave on the break of dawn. Send someone out to gather up the rest of my crew" "Aye, aye" Joer dropped his hands from the spokes and started to step away before Pariah stopped him with a word. "Tomorrow we are going to the Arbor..." Joer looked at him. "You mean?" "Yes, tomorrow." Joer nodded slowly and went off quicker than before. Pariah set his hands on the spokes. He held them carefully, gently, as if it were a woman. His ship responded with the slightest movement. Tomorrow they will take Gold Arbor and show all these bastards that what he meant should not be taken lightly, he will show them his strength.