Press-ganged. Shanghaied. You’re in the navy now, son, whether you want to be or not.

I didn’t want to be in the navy. I didn’t want to be chained to an oar, rowing from dusk to dawn, eating gruel, getting screamed at or beaten. Sure, it would have been one hell of a workout plan, but I thought I’d pass.

Thankfully, that prick Morbash had only landed a glancing blow to my noggin. If he had struck me square, I doubt I would have had the option to pass. Besides an incongruous flash of light, a little bit of dizziness and a sore scalp, I was very much still in the ballgame. Unfortunately, I had left the bulk of my weapons back in my room, not thinking that I would need them in the sedate common room of Pleasant Voyages. All I had on me was the dagger I had looted at my belt and the folding knife tucked into my boot. They would have to do.

Morbash reared back to deliver another blow to my head, telegraphing his move by swinging his sap back over his shoulder. Maybe he was just a tradesman looking to score some easy money. A couple of weeks ago I would have lost this fight. This was not a couple of weeks ago.

As his arm swept down, Uzul tried to keep me in one place, pushing me in to the wall. I swept my arm upwards at an angle, meeting Morbash’s wrist as it descended towards me. I have to admit it, the orc was strong, but his strike slid down my arm off to the side, leaving him momentarily unbalanced. After I blocked his attack, I planted my right foot against the wall and twisted, viciously scything my elbow at Uzul’s head. He started to pull back, but that left his chin conveniently in the path of my strike. With a loud crack my elbow landed. He went staggering backwards a couple of steps and then collapsed, not knocked out but having a difficult time getting his arms and legs working together.

That gave me room to move. While Morbash was regathering himself, I bounced away from him to my left. As he started moving towards me, I wound up and dropped an axe kick on the top of Uzul’s head, since he had managed to make it back up to his hands and knees. This time he was down for the count. Skipping backwards to gain a little space, my hand darted to my belt and drew the dagger I had sheathed there.

“Why are you guys such assholes?” I said. “We were out having a good time and you greedy bastards had to ruin it. What hurts is I actually kind of liked you guys.”

Morbash didn’t respond. Instead, after glancing at Uzul’s prone form, he let loose a savage scream and charged me. He didn’t even look like he remembered he had a weapon in his hand. Instead, his plan seemed to be to overwhelm me with his superior bulk and strength.

One of the signature moves fighting with a rapier is the lunge. Planting your back foot at an angle roughly perpendicular to your body, you explode forward quickly, deeply bending your forward leg to extend your reach, then springing back to a ready position.

I didn’t have a rapier, I only had a dagger. In this instance, though, it was a distinction without any real difference. With a large orc charging towards you, the only variable to account for was a matter of reach, of timing. I held back for a split second longer than I ordinarily would and them lunged forward. Morbash’s momentum assisted me as the dagger buried itself up to its pommel just below his rib cage. I didn’t have time to bounce back into a ready position as his bulk rammed me backwards, blasting me to the ground. My head bounced against the hard cobblestones of the street, and once again I was momentarily stunned. I could feel warm blood oozing down the back of my neck.

Morbash wasn’t out of the fight, though. He landed on top of me and started raining strikes down on my momentarily unprotected head. He was damn strong. I felt my cheekbone crunch when he really wound up and smacked me. My arms were pinned under his bulk and I couldn’t free them. I thought he was likely going to die soon, but it seemed like he was determined to take me along with him into the dark.

I really couldn’t see very well. My eyes were involuntarily watering from the damage that was being done to my face. That’s my story. They were watering. I certainly wasn’t crying.

Although I couldn’t free my arms to strike back effectively, Morbash was going for maximum power. Before driving his fists down at me, he would rear back a little trying to generate a little extra momentum. The next time he pulled back, I blindly groped forward trying to get a grip on the dagger that was still embedded in his stomach. The first couple of times I missed but he didn’t. I was definitely fighting to retain consciousness as I absorbed the pounding. Finally, I was able to grab the hilt of the dagger.

Instead of trying to pull it out of his body and stab it in again, I just started moving my arm. Up and down, left and right, I jerked the dagger trying to widen the wound. This time, Morbash screamed again but it was not a scream of rage but of agony. I can’t imagine it was much fun having someone using six inches of steel to try to scramble your insides like an egg. Blood flowed down my hand and arm as he rolled away from me. I was left holding the dagger. He, on the other hand, was left trying to hold parts of his body inside that should never be seen from the outside. I considered it a fair trade.

Because I was no longer getting the snot smacked out of me, I made it to my hands and knees and took a second to regroup. When I could finally see again, I noticed Morbash slumped, seated against the wall opposite of the one that I had been pushed into. With a glazed expression, he futilely tried to stem his bleeding. He was unsuccessful, and as I staggered to my feet he breathed his last. The alley stank of excrement. I had clearly perforated his bowels.

Once I was back on my feet and felt like I could move again, I staggered over to Uzul. His breathing had settled into a gurgling rasp. Being the humanitarian I am I didn’t want him to suffer anymore, so I slit his throat.

Quickly sifting through their pockets, I could only find a few coins. I left them on the bodies. Picking up the sap, I carefully placed it in Morbash’s lap. Then, I started planning my escape.

I knew the two orcs had a bunch of friends. I didn’t know whether their associates were aware of their extracurricular activities, but I had been seen leaving with the two and anyone with half a brain would consider me a prime suspect once their bodies were found. My clothes were covered in blood, most of it not my own. How was I going to get out of town without fighting my way out?

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I staggered down the lane and found myself next to a small public fountain. After cleaning myself up the best I could, which was not very well, I started moving back towards my inn. And that’s when inspiration struck. The ring! I could use the ring to disguise my appearance.

Envisioning myself as I had appeared earlier in the evening, sans bloodstains, I quickly changed my illusion to match. I certainly wouldn’t pass the smell test, and I would likely drip water anywhere I walked which would be odd, but it would have to do. Thinking things through, I modified my appearance once again to show my legs dripping wet.

Returning to the inn, I noticed the common room had closed for the evening. Entering, I nodded at the staff who were busy cleaning up, staggering around like I had far too much to drink. I apologized for the water I was dripping on the floor and tipped the staff a gold piece, muttering something about falling into a fountain. The gold seemed to mollify their outrage more than the explanation did.

After making it back up to the room, I stashed my clothing in my pack and changed back into my peasant’s garb, my traveling clothes. Cleaning up the mess in the room as best as I could, I changed the illusion again to depict me with a different outfit, similar to what I had been seen in before, but dry. I hoped nobody was around who could see through the illusion, but I doubted that was likely.

Then, I grabbed my gear and headed back out the door. On the way out, I once again ran into the inn’s personnel who seemed very confused to see me leaving at this hour. Hamming up my intoxication a little, I told them that I needed to get an early start on my travels. Shaking their heads at my folly, they went right back to cleaning up.

Once again, I was back on the streets full of nefarious characters. Finding a quiet spot where nobody was around, I changed my appearance one more time. This time, after the transformation I looked like Dakota Brown. Thanks Dakota, you were finally good for something. Then, I started going from inn to inn until I finally found another one that was open with a room to rent. Claiming I had just arrived in town, I paid for the room. It was not nearly as nice, and the price remained outrageous, but it gave me somewhere to sleep for the night.

I slept poorly and not for very long. Just as the sun was rising, I was back on the streets, headed to the road out of town. By this time, most of the activity had died down and the town had once again started to resemble the bucolic settlement I originally thought it was. When I passed several patrols of haggard-looking guards, I kept my head up, nodding to them in greeting. If anyone could see through the illusion, I assumed it might be the guards but I didn’t want to slink around looking overly suspicious. None of them seemed to see anything amiss. They weren’t exactly friendly, but they weren’t hostile either and that was good enough.

I exited the town and hiked back up the hill where I had met the slave caravan. Carts full of meat, milk and produce were already headed towards town from the outlying farms and ranches. This must have been a market day. I was not too sad to have missed it.

After an hour or so of travel, I made it to the highway that led to the capital. Turning north, once again towards the unknown, I began wearily trudging up the road. Although my superficial wounds had healed during the night, the lack of sleep was definitely impacting my energy and joie de vivre. I was nervous, jumping at shadows, wondering if I was being pursued again.

Around noon, my hunger had become too much for me to assuage by grazing as I walked, so I moved slightly off the side of the road and started eating an actual meal. My attention was drawn back to the road by the sound of horses moving at a fast clip from the direction of Shroud Hallow.

Glancing up, I noticed that a group of five male and female orcs, dressed in the livery of Shroud Hallow city guards, were cantering up the road towards the north. I went back to eating, trying not to look nonplussed. My heartbeat sped up a little when the leader of the column, an immaculately dressed woman wearing armor and in a slightly fancier uniform, called her column to a halt when they reached my position.

Dismounting, she walked towards me.

“Hello, citizen,” she said.

My palms were getting sweaty and my knees felt a little weak when I stood, politely I hoped, to greet her.

“Greetings. What can I do for Shroud Hallow’s finest?”

She fought a fleeting smile at the upper corners of her lips.

“That’s a new one,” she said. “We’re looking for a suspect in a murder.” Then she proceeded to give my description down to my name, James. I guess I needed an alias or three. “Have you seen anyone matching that description on the road today.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” I replied. “Although I got an early start, I have been traveling slowly today. I have a monster hangover. I overindulged on your town’s fine spirits last night, and today I’m paying for it. I thought I would stop, rest, and grab a quick meal to settle my stomach.”

“You are not the first,” she replied, grinning ruefully. “I may have been there a time or two myself. What did you say your name was?”

“Dakota. Dakota Brown. I was headed down to Sleetfield from the capital to try to do some trading and earn my fortune, but I lost all my goods in a card game the other night, so now I’m headed back home to earn more money and lick my wounds. Man, I thought that jerk was bluffing.”

“Well, Dakota, as I tell my guards, don’t gamble what you can’t afford to lose,” she said, this time failing to hide a full grin.

“Now you tell me,” I responded, shaking my head. “Where was your advice when I needed it? I was this close to hitting it big.” I showed her my fingers spread less than an inch apart.

“And you were this close to losing it all,” she said with a laugh, showing me a gauntleted hand with her fingers pressed firmly together.”

“You have me there.”

“Well, if you see that man, avoid him. He appears to be crafty and dangerous and would be the type to kill you for fun. He didn’t even take anything from the tradesmen that he knifed.”

“Thanks for your timely warning. He sounds like a shifty sort, and I have already lost everything else on this trip. I don’t need to lose my life as well.”

Nodding, she mounted her horse and the group started moving back up the road.

Crafty? Dangerous? Killing people for fun? Nope, that’s not me.

I finished my meal and then climbed back to my feet, getting back on the roadway and wearily marching onward. I had miles to go before sleep, and apparently there was a dangerous killer on the road. I hoped I didn’t run into him. I’m not certain I would like him very much.

My ring was the best thing ever.