No hesitance. No mercy.
Two of the pirate ships lie scuttled by the shore. Men and women strike away with hammer and axe, breaking down the keels for new boats and dock-timber. One of them is quick enough, to point out for you a spot under the horizon: "They went there, the #@&%?*!$," she says. "Where the Smith tempers his iron."
"The Smith?"
"About a corner-turn from the little moon. You'll know it when you see it."
Nodding, you hurl yourself into the evening.
As the stars wheel over the water, you see the promised constellation rise and fall: when you close your third eyelids, it really does look like a human lowering something into the ocean. He raises a hammer over his head, in a solemn, exaggerated gesture.
The Smith rises and falls twice, as you fly relentless over the waves… no warm updrafts to carry you, not in the hard southern winter. No food on the cruel ocean, save the odd albatross or panicked fish. Your
anger sustains you, burning away at some reserve in your magicks.
4
As the sun rises on the third day, you realize you've flown too fast and too far for any human vessel—you must've passed it! Backtracking, you comb the area; back and forth, navigating by the sun…
…and see it.
Surely they've seen you in kind.
How many will die?A) NO PIRATE SURVIVES!B) Kill as many as necessary to secure a surrender. Maybe they'll be useful.
How will you kill them?A) No quarter. Full assault until surrender or extinction.
B) Play it careful. Strike down any immediate threats, then play the intimidation game.
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Topic: SPAMDRAGON: ZENDRAKIEL the RESPLENDENT! (Read 13364 times)