Captain Redbeard woke sore and groggy. It took him a moment to remember why. “Dammit, John was right,” he thought.
He stretched and felt a pull in his side. That guardsman was faster than expected. If he wore his red shirt, he might have cheated John out of the win. But two coppers weren’t much after all. Besides, John would have paid with a smile if he had lost the wager. They should be arriving back at the conclave soon.
He washed, dressed, put on a clean bandage, and left his cabin. The Captain went straight to John’s cabin and found it empty. Curious, the Brother always slept in after a good fight. Said it felt good to flex his muscles and then just lounge for a while. So, he decided to check on the crew, since John couldn’t go far on the ship.
Toringard was at the forecastle watching the approaching landfall, the Boatswain barking orders to bring the Damned Promise into port. Everything seemed in order. But where was John? The Brother had an uncanny ability to disappear despite his size, the only ARC member who was as imposing as Captain Black Powder, Redbeard’s brother. How did the man move so quiet and disappear with ease? He’d always chuckle and say, “Benefits of a misspent youth.”
John was in the partitioned area of the hold for his medicinal supplies. He was looking for some herbs to make a poultice to put on his shoulder wound. The wound was clean and the stitches straight, even with the awkward angle he needed to do them himself. “Can’t fall to infection, after surviving a stabbing,” he spoke to no one in particular.
Poultice made and spread on the wound with a clean bandage, he put his robes back on and headed back up to the quarterdeck to watch as they made port. He ran into the Captain as he came up from below decks. The Captain started, “There you are, thought you’d lay about until we made port.”
“Had to clean and redress the wound. Dammit Frank! I hate being right!” He smiled anyway, then began a deep belly laugh. They were brothers in spirit and he couldn’t blame him anyway. Nearby crew members gasped. Few would call the Captain simply “Frank”, but John seemed to delight in not being formally respectful at times.
“Shit went sideways yet again. But I think I know how they found us. Abbott Gregory has been less than enthused by my still actually being a pirate. He’ll have to be replaced. I’ll think on who would be best so I can continue with you.”
Redbeard just smiled knowingly. Abbott Gregory likely wouldn’t survive the month. John hated betrayal. His honor would force his hand. Damned nobles got themselves in more trouble than it was worth sometimes. And though a wanted man, John was still the son of a minor lord.
A few hours later the crew reconvened with the rest of the ARC conclave, and the drinking and dicing began anew. Toringard was near the booze. He enjoyed making his potions. Vile mixtures of various alcohols. Most wouldn’t try them until he did first.
John asked the Captain’s leave to go off a bit away to meditate. “I’ll be back by sunrise.” And ventured of into the trees, disappearing from sight.
“How does he do it? A man of the cloth yet more assassin than any of us.” The Boatswain mused. Darin liked John’s style, but found it unnerving how good he was at combat and subterfuge.
“We all have are secrets. Just be glad he’s on our side,” Redbeard whispered.
“Aye, it is a blessing. Pun intended,” Darin replied.
After hours of hard drinking, some rounds of Liar’s Dice and Captain’s Bounty, everyone was fully inebriated. Toringard suddenly jumped up and shambled toward the alcohol. “Time for potions!” he bellowed.
No one batted an eye, better to let him have his fun. He grabbed a flask and started pouring a bit of everything into it. Hands shaking, not just from drunkenness, but something he couldn’t quite figure out. It was almost as if he was only along for the ride while someone else was at the wheel. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial. Tipping it into the disgusting conglomerate of spirits. Glossy eyed and wavering in his boots, he stoppered the flask and gave it a shake. “Potion for the Captain!”
He stumbled, staggered, and even tripped, rolled and came back to his feet as he made his way to the rest of them. He grabbed Redbeard’s shoulder and twisted him around roughly. He uncorked the flask and pushed it to Redbeard’s mouth. “Drink your potion to get big and strong! You can’t get big and strong it you don’t drink your potion.”
Redbeard struggled for a bit, laughing the whole time. How bad could it be? Might taste like piss and fire, but it would get you drunk just the same. Once, they swore he actually added piss to a “Potion” he gave to Darin. The Captain finally relented and just let it happen. The whole flask emptied down his gullet. It tasted worse than piss and burned like a hot poker all the way down. Redbeard belched literal fire, vomited with such force it sprayed everyone nearby. Then he staggered and dropped in convulsions, frothing at the mouth. Toringard started dancing a jig, singing, “The Captain he is dead, the Captain he is dead. Now I can be the captain!”
Chaos erupted. Everyone sobered up immediately. Shouts of mutiny echoed into the night. Crew members tackled Toringard and commenced to restraining him to a tree. It took five of them to accomplish this, he seemed to be stronger than normal. Captain Black Powder knelt by his brother and shouted, “someone find Brother John! Redbeard’s been poisoned and Toringard, well I don’t know what the hell is going on with him, but John might!”
“He went off to meditate hours ago, I think he went that way,” and Antonio headed towards the trees. Just as he entered the tree line, John burst out of the darkness running full tilt to the Captain. “What the Hell happened?!” John asked.
“Toringard poisoned him with one of his potions,” the Master Gunner called after him.
“Dammit, I knew he was all ass, but didn’t know it went all the way to his brain,” John paused to look at the Quartermaster, saw something in his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll deal with him once I help Redbeard. Darin, run to my section of the hold. Grab the jars of iris, anise, ginger, and saffron! Also, my mortar and pestle! Someone grab some coals from the fire!”
Everyone looked around. Darin was nowhere to be seen. Antonio took off running to the ship to grab the herbs and Pyri grabbed some coals from the fire. Antonio returned quickly with the supplies and John immediately started grinding the herbs and coals together. He grabbed a large bowl, a waterskin and some rum. Placing the powdered herb-coal mixture into the bowl with some water and a splash of rum. He mixed them for a few moments then held the bowl over the fire.
“Prop him up so I can give him the antidote.”
Black Powder helped his brother into a sitting position and John slowly spooned the liquid into Redbeard’s mouth. After several tense moments of him convulsing some more, Redbeard yawned, belched some smoke and smirked. “Guess Toringard’s potion was stronger than I thought.”
“It was poison. But now to figure out why,” John seethed. He was certain he wasn’t seeing Toringard in those eyes, but something from the nine hells. As he approached, Toringard began spitting and cursing, but his voice wasn’t his. “Stay away from me you pompous brat!”
A wicked grin came to John. “Ah, Malleus you fatuous little bugger. Why even try to irritate me again?”
Not-Toringard shivered. “They said Gregory had taken care of you. It was supposed to be easy. Please don’t hurt me.”
John chuckled. He then pulled out his flask of holy water and began a quiet prayer. Making the sign of the cross with the water on Toringard’s forehead. “Heavenly Father, we humbly ask that you protect our friend Toringard. Give him the strength to fight against this demon. Fortify his spirit, and ease his pain. Amen.”
John then began the process he’d learned worked better than the Church’s accepted ritual. In a voice that resonated through the darkness he mispronounced the demon’s name over and over, “MAAALLEUUUUSSSS. MOLEYASS. MALLLLLLEEEEEUUSSS. Willa Mena. MMMMMMAALEEEEEEEEEEEEUS.”
Malleus screamed in pain through Toringard’s mouth. Then he whimpered, “P-p-p-please, stop. A promise not to do it again. I’ll do anything, if you stop.” John had broken this demon before, the last time hadn’t gone as easy. But John had honed his skills since then.
“BEGONE BACK TO THE NINE HELLS! I BIND YOU TO YOUR REALM! A CENTURY AND A DAY!”
A deep silence followed. Then with the sound of a horn blast the demon shot out of Toringard’s mouth and vaporized with a loud crack.
“He’ll need rest, and give him some rum. He’ll be fine in the morning and won’t likely remember any of this. The Captain should get some rest as well. Set up a watch schedule and everyone get some rest. Physician’s orders.”
Just then the Chastiser burse into the group. “The Gods damned biggest raccoon I every saw just rampaged the food stores!”
John smiled and looked up to the sky. Full Moon. “Guess we know where Darin’s been. We’ll fix THAT problem another time. For the time being set watch to the rest of the food and leave some of the fluffy burst corn out for the creature.”
The next morning, everyone woke slowly. A tense quiet was about. John was just finished checking on Toringard. He’d be alright in a day or two and swore off making potions for the time being. Antonio found Darin naked, deeply asleep and covered in fluffy burst corn a short way into the trees. They brought him back and laid him in his bedroll to sleep off the night’s “fun.”
John finally went to check on the Captain. “How are you feelin?”
“Exhausted, sore, and a headache that would cripple Poseidon. But otherwise, alright. Thanks, my friend.”
“My pleasure. Now, Captain, I must ask to take my leave to return to the Monastery. Time for Gregory to be removed and someone we can trust to be placed in his stead. I’m thinking the Spaniard, but I’m not sure yet. I’ll send word when it’s done.”
The Captain stopped him, “Last night, when you were banishing the demon, you said Willa Mena. What the hell was that all about?”
“I bound him with a new name. His brethren will only address him as Willa Mena and it will cause him immense pain. It will be that way for a century and a day. Figured he deserved it for annoying me again,” John smirked
“You’re a right cruel bastard sometimes. But it’s part of your charm, John.”
They clasped hands, and then pulled each other into a bear hug. Then John headed to the port to board a small ship to head back to the Monastery.
Captain Redbeard watched his friend go. “The sly scoundrel will probably send word that he’s the new Abbott before it’s all done. Better by far than giving him his own ship.” Captains Black Powder and Connacht only nodded.
Written by John W.
