Lament, Part 1
The crashing noise of the ocean against the cliffside beneath his feet, Derrel takes a step back again. His foot half on the ground beneath him, and half pressing against air. His brown eyes glance at the men in front of him, three of them with an assortment of rags and leather clothes. Pirates, out looking for a easy mark to rob. Each of them having tell tale signs of corruption lingering on their skin, like a sickness that perpetuates the air around them.
“Hey, have you heard what they said about pirates?” Derrel starts trying to talk to them, the entire time adjusting his posture to one that screams confidence, almost in a laughably condescending manner. The three men in front of him each visibly tense, their hands grasping their weapons that they haven’t drawn yet.
“What’s that boy?” The bearded one of the three, steps closer, his eyes never moving from Derrels.
“That they stink like the underbelly of a swamp bison!” Derrel says loudly, then strikes out with a sweeping kick to connect with the bearded mans legs. The man briefly goes off balance, and in that moment it's all Derrel needs as his body disappears into shadows then reappears behind the Pirate, a dagger that glows with a faint pink light swiftly piercing the man's gut as a spray of blood against the ground is all that is left to remind the remaining two pirates of their companion, as his body falls into the water below.
“You’re going to regret that boy.” One of the men say as he draws his cutlass a vibrant light glowing from the blade, but when he slashes down it only touches thin air. Derrels body already moving in between the two remaining pirates to stand between them and the land.
“Sorry old man, I think ya’ll are the ones that are going to regret messing with a Raven such as myself.” Derrel gives a cocky grin as he pulls his shirt back to reveal a guild emblem of a raven with bleeding eyes.
The remaining pirates faces cloud with the apparent recognition of the emblem. Their skin tone visibly losing color as they get on their knees, their hands clasping in a pitiful display of begging. “Please pity such poor fools as we, oh merciful raven.”
Derrel just smirks, then after moving his hands through the air, gives them an excessively pitiful look. “It’ll be quick then, merciful even.”
The two pirates only have a moment to look relieved, before what he said sinks in. As it does they hear the cracking of stone, the channeling noise of a hundreds of pounds of stone crashing into itself. Then the cliff starts to fall backwards, severed from the stone that held it in place almost in a clean cut. Twin hexblades floating in the air glimmering in the sea mist are the last sight the two pirates see before they land in a sea of charmed sharks.
Derrel reaches into his pocket to take out a small book, on it a list of bounties. After marking off three names with a worn out piece of lead, he turns whistling to walk away from the bloody waters below him. “Three down for today, twelve more to go.”
**Note, Stories are not an accurate representation of what may be available in-game.
Derrels class isn’t defined in this, but I would like to think of him more as a Wild blade? Fighter/Summoner Archetype. He’ll reappear in future short stories I write with his signature summon being Hexblades. (Enchanted Blade that floats and attacks like a creature.) Darrel also has a dash attack that puts him behind his enemy, and in future fights perhaps you’ll witness more abilities. This is purely out of fantasy, and some references to AOC.
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