All the kingdoms in the land are in a rush to capture the final Lionphoenix yours was no different. But you grew up in the land of Mercenaria where working for a bounty is considered the greatest and most honorable profession. After hearing about the bounty given by Brotania's King your entire kingdom was whipped up into a frenzy. Every one was seeking for a way onto the island of legend, but getting there is almost impossible. Luckily for you your father left you several powerful magic items before he died. The first being a compass that can lead you to anything you desire and is said to possess certain protective qualities and a flintlock pistol that dosn't need to be reloaded. Instead you just need to cock back the hammer each time you wish to fire. Then finally your father left you a small sail boat that is said to be able to with stand any kind of punishment. Using these items you make it your quest to go to the Island of Legend and bring back the Lionphoenix making you the biggest name in the Mercenary community.
After many days of hardship you arrive mostly intact at the northern shore of The Island of Legend. You pull your boat to shore and look around the area. Lizardsharks and catlobsters are basking in tide pools. while small pig creatures are running about the shore eating fallen fruits. The volcano which is said to be the home of the Lionphoenix looms ominously overhead. You can hear whoops and howls from unimaginable creatures emanating from the jungle in front of you.
You've heard that two Brotannian guilds and the Pointdexterians have successfully landed and have the same objective you do.
-=your current resources are=-
- Magic compass
- Magic gun
- Magic sail boat
I remember clearly what the Mercenarian Crede was - "Every Mercenarian for himself." It was a rite of passage to do your first job, and special favor was given to the illegal or dangerous jobs. I would have to thank father for the magical artifacts he had left to me - but first I would have to make sure I had enough money from this job to ensure nobody would ever find out that I killed him, nor would they care.
ReplyDeleteThere would be Brotanians here on the island, likely much closer to the prize than I. If I wanted to win, I would have to be brutal and merciless.
I hid my boat under an overhang and tied it for good measure, then I set off for the mountain. The compass my father had told me about did its job - I could not fail.
(This post is Jesse, as was the one before it. I don't know why it's behaving so oddly.)
ReplyDeleteI pulled out the ornately-carved dagger I had crafted from my father's femur. I needed to kill a cloven beast, preferably a goat but any would do, and offer ritual sacrifice to Hades. The gun would surely draw attention to me, although the ritual required a fire to complete. I guess I just like the way it feels when something dies in my hands, its hot lifeblood all over my hands. Such a shame I couldn't tear my father's secrets from his corpse - he had been the most gifted haematomancer (or blood-sorcerer as the uneducated called us) in Mercenaria. If I could kill a beast and paint the sigils on my skin, and meditate in a fire circle while surrounded with the bones and organs in ritual design, I could perhaps strengthen my bond to my dark lord and master. All the better if I were to desecrate it sexually as well - that always pleased His Majesty. I had seen my father boil a man where he stood in his own fluids using the pyrohaemic curse, and I had seen him do far worse to my mother after he decided she had meddled enough. All it cost him was his soul, and I had at least one to spare at this point. First, I would take this prize and kill any Brotanian explorers who stood in my way, then I could go about achieving greatness back home.
My father had been my first kill - his fingerbones still adorned the gutwire necklace I had crafted from his small intestines. I stroked his scalp as it dangled from my belt and my fifteen-year-old mind contemplated my next several thousand.