Captain’s log, Year 999

Day 1,

I hate this place. Where’s the treasure? The women? The gods forsaken toilets! Everything tries to kill me and the only bit of loot I could scavenge was measly piece of bread. Least the natives are easily fooled. Dear future me, the moment you find a ship. Get out.

Sincerely,

Greatest Pirate Captain to yet sail the seas,

Tulius Gromp

The hastily written scrap danced loosely off his leather belt while the greatest pirate captain to yet sail the seas ran with all his might, dodging the arrows that swept over his head.

“Don’t let that pig escape!” curdled a voice behind him

Tulius turned his head to spot two bird monsters chasing him, “Why do you people keep calling me that!”

“Because only pigs squeal as well as you do.”

Tulius looked insulted, perhaps even more so than afraid, “I do not sqeu- Weow!” He ducked another arrow.

The creatures laughed behind him, “Tell ya what pig.” The one cried out, spurting between breaths “If you give back what you stole, your death shall be quick.”

Tulius turned with the bread lodged between his teeth, “Not today.” Waggled the bread. Behind him, the two Venemari picked up their pace, swearing violently in terms he did not understand.

Swallowing the last piece of bread, he moved even faster, smiling all the while. He turned a corner and two more arrows missed the mark.

This place was not Syrindor, but it still had its tricks. Learning those tricks was necessity in the art of thievery, especially when the patrons gutted first and asked questions later. Turning another corner, Tulius spotted a nearby building, heaps of hay sitting outside.

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Stable! He thought instantly, rushing inside.

His jaw dropped and his forehead furrowed. Scanning the inside, he cursed for perhaps the hundredth time that day. These people, the venemari, did not ride rimrats. The damned birds ran as fast as them. Feeling the heavy beat of his heart, he knew that more than most.

“Over here.” Echoed a voice.

Tulius cringed, their footsteps sounded close. Think he thought at the spur of the moment, memories of his urchin life spat past him. Hiding spots, techniques, to use ones surroundings to their advantage. Tulius glanced around the building. A warehouse. In the corner of his eye, he saw a stack of barrels. “Perfect.” He said aloud.

Seconds later the two Venemari ran in, momentarily stopping to catch their breaths and stow their bows. Tulius watched them through a hole in the barrel.

“The pig ran in here. I’m sure of it.” Said the taller one. The shorter then did something Tulius did not expect. He sniffed the air. Tulius was not at all a philosopher, but that day he made an exception. He considered his situation, the war, all of reality in fact and questioned the gods themselves. In his darkened barrel, with scarcely a light to guide him in his search for deliverance, he asked only one question.  Can birds smell?

“Check the Barrels.” Said the shorter one.

Footsteps and the barrel lid shifted. Tulius shielded his eyes in that cramped space. The tall venemari reached for him, but the shorter one spoke up before he could, “Wait.” He stifled a laugh, “I have a better idea.”

A few seconds of mumbling followed and the venemari returned. Their eyes narrowed with pleasure, their evil smiles unanimous “Can pigs swim?” one snarled.

Tulius gulped, he did not like where this was going, though he felt obliged to answer the question, “Of course they can.”

The taller venemari then shut the barrel and Tulius’s world began to roll.

For minutes on end it kept spinning until finally the barrel stopped and shifted upright. Through his eye hole he saw the sea.

“Take a look.” Puffed one of the two. Slowly they leaned the barrel down so Tulius could see what was below him. Again he swallowed hard. He was on a cliff.

“May the spirits take ya pig.” Said one Venemari, “Though I doubt they will.”

With that he fell. Nothing but air between him and the sea. The sounds of odd laughter dimming from where he fell as salty air rushed into his barrel.

Tulius smiled in his little barrel prison. Yes he was falling and yes, in a barrel, but it was all towards the sea. Thinking back on his predicament, he realized he would have it no other way. Tulius Gromp had already fallen for the sea.