by Vic Connor
“Slaves,” I bluff. “That’s our trade. Escaped slaves, to be precise.”
“Aye, thems runaways!” says Abe, playing along. He grabs Juanita by the arm and drags her forward a few steps, then lifts her poncho to reveal the burnt glyphs and tattoos on her arm. “See thems here marks? No escaped slave escapes Ol’ Abe!”
Miyu inches forward, staying in line with Abe; the two of them are now about fifteen paces from the Spaniards.
The soldiers look at the burn marks branded on Juanita’s skin and nod, visibly relaxing.
But the Impious Priest, his right hand clutching the worn-out book against his chest, lifts the fingers of his left hand. I can see smears of something like grime-laden smoke in the air as he mimics some signs with his fingertips, mumbling to himself.
Shit.
The skull-like cavities of his eyes bore into Abe, and the Priest hisses, “MENDACIUM!”
The soldiers raise their pikes and aim them at us, murmuring in alarmed voices.
The Lieutenant frowns, unclasping his hands and bringing them to the front of his belt, near the grip of his pistols and the hilt of his blade.
“I have orders to keep peace here, mis señores,” he says, his voice now cold and threatening. “And I would rather avoid bloodshed on this fine day. But I will be not lied to. Explain yourselves, and quickly, or face the consequences.”
[Threaten]
[Tell truth]
[Plead]
“Ol’ Abe don’t be likin’ yarr tone, Spaniard,” says Abe, reaching for his cutlass.
Like a butterfly lazily spreading her wings, Miyu’s arms stretch as she wields her naginata parallel to the ground, the steel blade gleaming under the sunshine.
“Yesss we can,” hisses Juanita, her voice suddenly serpent-like. She crouches to the ground behind Abe. “Wipe thissspanisssh filth… We could, young Sssshake…”
This is our second encounter with enemies in the game.
It cannot go wrong.
Right?
“Out of our way,” I threaten. “Or soon it will be your blood soaking the dirt today.”
Intimidation:
Failed!
“¡FORMACIÓN!” snarls the Lieutenant. “¡Avancen!”
Yeah, sure, why not. First, their Priest high-rolls his skill check to catch our bluff, then I fail mine.
“¡Por la Reina!” yells Juarez as he marches forward, his pike pointed at Miyu. He seems to be looking to circle her from the left.
“¡Que viva España!” shouts Ramirez.
“¡Mantengan filas!” snarls Lieutenant Escobar. It’s as if well-trained dogs were pulled by a leash as the four soldiers advance in a compact, orderly line. A thought flashes through my mind: back in the Middle Ages, the Spanish infantry was considered among the very best in the world.
Miyu moves swiftly forward. Her naginata’s reach seems an adequate match for the Spanish pikes, but she’s still outnumbered five to one.
Abe draws his cutlass with his right hand and pulls a large, thick bottle from somewhere; tilting his head backward, he gulps down a long—long—drink.
“Abe, what the heck!?” I yell. “Do you think now’s a good time to get drunk? They’re about to swarm Miyu!”
“Focus on the woman first!” orders Lieutenant Escobar. Juarez and Ramirez continue trying to flank Miyu from her left while Vigo and Lugo attempt to approach her from her right. The naginata, quick like a steel-tongued cobra, dances deadly back and forth, keeping the Spaniards away from her.
For now.
But she cannot keep the five of them at bay for long.
Can she?
Abe finishes drinking and looks at me. His face has changed—his sardonic smirk has vanished, his eyes now those of a condemned soul awaiting the incoming penance…
Buff Activated:
Hello Penance,
My Old Friend
…the expression of somebody who, instead of fearing death, would rather welcome her cold embrace as a relief from the burdens of this world. Stumbling slightly, he turns to the Spaniards and yells, “Maldita sea vuestra puñetera Reina, ¡y maldita sea España!”
Sailor’s Curses:
Success!
The crude insult strikes the Spaniards. Lieutenant Escobar, Juarez and Ramirez shrug off the affront, but the two soldiers with the better gear, Vigo and Lugo, turn toward Abe as though they’ve just been slapped by an invisible hand.
“¡Por la Reina y por España!” shouts Lugo, his moustache trembling with rage as both he and Vigo sprint towards Abe, visibly enraged by the pirate’s taunt.
“Hello, Penance, me ol’ friend,” mutters Abe. He fights like he’s uninterested in the outcome of our battle, like he doesn’t care if he lives or dies. He parries or deflects some of the pikes’ blows with his cutlass; the rest of the Spaniards’ attacks pierce his flesh here and there, but whatever he has drunk from the bottle he holds seems to numb the pain he should feel.
Miyu is still on the defensive, her swirls and spins making it impossible for the Spaniards to land a single blow. She parries, she ducks, she evades, until Juarez to her left gets carried away. The soldier puts too much weight in his assault, leans forward a little too far, and leaves himself exposed. Miyu’s body and weapon become one, and the defensive swirls become a speedy forward strike. She lunges with a horizontal thrust to the throat so powerful that it nearly impales the man.
Savage Tsuki:
Critical Hit!
The injured Juarez stumbles backward, crying out in pain and fear as blood spurts from his neck, then drops to the ground.
“¡Ramera!” yells Lieutenant Escobar. “You will pay for that!”
Using his left hand, he draws one of his large pistols and aims at the center of the swirling silks.
BANG.
He must have missed. Miyu not only seems unaffected, she even seizes the gap in Escobar’s guard and leaps forward. Her blade lashes out again, gleaming with hunger. It bites the pistol off the Lieutenant’s hand, making it fly away.
“¡Maldita perra!” screams Escobar, raising his sword again to parry the incoming blows.
The hungry thrusts turn into curves again as Miyu sweeps with her naginata to the right in a fast, wide circle. Lieutenant Escobar and Ramirez jump back, keeping their distance.
Abe curses as the thrust of Lugo’s pike slips under the pirate’s guard and punctures him in the left shoulder. “’Bout time ya be doin’ somethin’, lad,” he mutters. “Don’t ya think?”
He’s right.
About time I make myself useful.
My heart is pumping like mad and my hands are sweating. I lean all my weight on my left crutch, letting the other fall to the ground and, as quickly as I can, try to draw a pistol from the holster on my right thigh.
Quick Draw:
Critical Failure!
I flounder, losing my grip and dropping the gun to the ground. “Aw, c’mon!” I yell. “Give me a break!”
“Steady, me lad,” mutters Abe. He is slowly pulling back from the constant onslaught of Lugo and Vigo. “When t’ ship be a-rockin’ an’ t’ storm a-ragin’, there never was a calmer sailor than ya, lad. Ya remembers?”
Calm.
Calm like a mountain, being whipped by the lashing of lighting and thunder under a storm…
Skill Unlocked!
Unflinching Calm.
…I draw the pistol from my right hip. My grip is firm; my arm is steady. I take careful aim at the tallest soldier, Vigo, who is attacking Abe from his left flank—the one the pirate has the most trouble defending against with his cutlass.
Time slows down. I aim for the head, and pull the trigger.
Headshot:
Critical Hit!
Vigo’s head explodes in a fountain of blood, and he crumbles to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been slashed.
“That’s what I be talkin’ about, me lad!” shouts Abe. Lugo, the soldier now facing the pirate alone, jumps back as Abe draws another long sip from h
is bottle. “Now it be jus’ yarr Ol’ Abe, Spaniard filth,” he growls, and hurls himself forward in a flurry of cutlass.
Miyu has gained ground against Ramirez and Lieutenant Escobar, but a sickly green glow appears from her left, where she’d struck down her first foe. The mist shrouds the fallen body of Juarez and, all of a sudden, he stands up, his wounded throat somehow fully healed. He rejoins the fray.
The three enemies force the samurai once more on the defensive.
“The Priessst,” hisses Juanita’s voice, but I can’t see her anywhere. “Ssstrike him down, or hisss unholy healing will be our doom!”
I turn my attention to the Impious Priest. He stands cocooned by a bell-shaped greenish shield, enveloping him from head to waist. He mumbles, reading from his worn-out book, and more mist coils around his hands.
Let’s do this right, then.
Unflinching Calm.
I draw a pistol from my left crutch. Time slows down as I set my sight right between the dark caves where the Priest’s eyes should be, wondering for an instant if my bullets will pierce the glowing green shield between us.
I pull the trigger.
There’s a bang; the Priest’s shield flashes bright green, followed by a roaring curse from Abe as my bullet bounces back and strikes the pirate in the left shoulder, leaving the Priest unharmed. Not even his concentration has been broken—he goes on mumbling and reading.
“Damn it, boy!” growls Abe. “Ya blind? That be an Impious Barrier ‘round ‘im! Our blows be bouncin’ back at us, thems will!”
Enshrouded in his greenish cocoon, the Priest finishes his incantation, and a swampish mist begins to surround the dead Vigo. The man springs back to his feet, pike in hand, and resumes the fight against Abe as if nothing had happened. His head seems whole again—like my bullet hadn’t blown out his brains a few minutes ago.
“Cursed Spaniards won’t stay dead,” grumbles the pirate. “Fer Heaven’s sake, lad, do somethin’!”
“Below the ssshield,” hisses Juanita’s voice. “Cripple him!”
Skill Unlocked!
Crippling Shot
Aw, c’mon.
Really?
A crippling shot?
“¡A la carga!” yells the Lieutenant.
Aura:
Battle Courage
A yellow aura radiates from him, bathing his men in a golden hue. The soldiers press forward with renewed strength and speed.
Miyu slashes Lieutenant Escobar across the thigh, but the Spaniards keep their pressure up. Slowly, they gain ground on us.
“Ssshoot the Priesssst!” I hear Juanita hiss.
I reach for my left crutch’s second pistol. I’ve tied it too tightly, and I waste precious moments struggling to pry it loose. Finally, I’m able to raise it. I set my sights on the Priest’s right knee, unprotected by the greenish barrier.
Things seem to zoom in while time slows down.
“Welcome to my world, pal,” I whisper, and pull the trigger.
Crippling Shot:
Hit!
Blood and bits of bone burst out as the Priest’s right kneecap explodes with an ominous, sickly splortch. He falls to the ground, shrieking like a tortured banshee, arms flailing around as he tries in vain to keep his balance. He lands on his right shoulder, cursing and screaming, and the greenish shield vanishes like a wisp of smoke. His hands try without success to staunch the blood rushing out of the wound…
…“He issss mine!” I hear Juanita snarl…
Snake Form
…a snake hiding in the grass—a Coral, judging by its red, white, and dark blue rings—sinks its fangs into the Priest’s left wrist. The man rolls over on the ground, yelling in pain and fear.
The four soldiers take a frightened look behind their shoulders almost in unison. Their resolve visibly wanes.
“Rot in hell!” Abe shouts, and jumps forward. A manic fury possesses him as he switches to full-out attack and forgets about blocking or parrying, making Vigo and Lugo retreat from his hurricane of slashes.
Miyu roars, “Kutabare!!”—and her feral warcry freezes Juarez and Ramirez for half a heartbeat. That split second is all she needs to launch another Savage Tsuki to Ramirez’s throat with her naginata: this time, she impales the soldier, the tip of her bloodied blade protruding from the back of his neck.
The green aura vanishes as the Priest dies.
“¡Mantengan la fila!” yells Lieutenant Escobar, but the doubt creeping into his voice is palpable both for us and his three remaining men, and it clearly fuels their fears rather than encourages them. The golden hue surrounding the Spaniards sputters and vanishes as their momentum dissolves.
Miyu swirls, weaving a thread of steel in front of her. New, gaping slashes appear on Escobar’s and Ramirez’s limbs, blood dripping all over the ground around them.
Abe’s cutlass is a torrent of blows, pushing Vigo and Lugo back. The two Spaniards slowly retreat, attempting to deflect the storm of steel with their pikes. As Lugo takes a further step back, he lets out a scream as the coral snake’s jaws close on his unprotected calf. Three heartbeats later, the Spanish soldier is wriggling and screaming on the ground, poison coursing through his veins.
Deep breath.
I take the last pistol attached to my left crutch and aim carefully at Vigo as he parries Abe’s blows…
…I consider trying to cripple him, but decide to play it safe. Vigo is almost as big as Abe, so I aim at his chest…
…a bang, the gun kicks back in my hand, acrid smoke swirls from the pistol’s mouth…
…my bullet sinks into the Spaniard’s belly. It would have been a fatal wound by itself, but the impact and the pain are all the distraction Abe needs for his cutlass to brutally land on Vigo’s collarbone with a sickening whack.
And soon, it’s all over. The Lieutenant and Ramirez are steamrolled as Abe flanks them and Miyu cuts the Spaniards down like a scythe mowing grass.
The pirate stands, panting and bleeding, while the samurai scans our surroundings, her mask’s mischievous smirk an eerie contrast against the violent bloodshed.
All is quiet.
The jungle has been muted by our fight.
The coral snake slithers through the grass to where Juanita’s clothes lie slumped into a ball. The poncho wriggles upward, then the witch’s head appears; her eyes meet mine as she hands me her staff.
I grab it gratefully and focus on Abe’s bleeding shoulder, where my bullet hit him after ricocheting on the Priest’s shield…
Tetsoliui
…I feel a piercing pain in my shoulder, as if someone had wounded me in the exact location of Abe’s injury…
…Abe grunts and massages his wound. The bleeding has stopped.
“Not bad, my child.” Juanita gives me an encouraging smile.
I inspect my shoulder and am pleased to see it’s alright. The pain I’d felt must have been part of the healing spell.
“Not good, either,” grunts Abe. He’s drinking copiously from his bottle, cutlass still dripping blood. He belches like a whale and puts the bottle away. “This fight be a wee bit too close.” He turns his back on us, takes off his bandana, and wipes his blade clean of blood. “An’ we may not be bleedin’, but we cannae be patchin’ ourselves fully, not till we gets our lil’ sweet angel back.” Satisfied that his cutlass is clean enough, he ties the bandana around his head again. “Ol’ Abe told ye all: we be ill equipped t’ be facin’ them Spaniards head-on.”
Defeated:
Lieutenant Ramirez’s Squad
+3VPs
Like a butterfly folding her wings, Miyu lets her arms hang close to her body, the naginata’s butt resting on the ground. Her onyx-black beads watch me; I can’t read her expression.
“The pirate is right, sunset woman,” Juanita tells her. “We are in no shape to confront another Spanish squad, at least not today. I will need to rest before I can be useful in a fight again.”
The samurai hisses under her mask.
I make my best effort to stand upright, leaning only on my left crutch as I’d dropped the other one to free my right hand to shoot.
“Search the bodies,” I instruct. “Then, we rest for a moment.” I stare back at the onyx-black beads. “And while we rest and recover, we ponder our options once again. The witch and the pirate are correct. Time is indeed of the essence, and we need to find our healer as fast as we can. But rushing headlong into the tiger’s jaws has proven to be foolish.”
The black beads hold my gaze.
“Listen to Jake, sunset woman. He speaks wisdom.”
I refuse to look away.
“Our lad be right, Miyu me lady. This be cunnin’, not cowardice.”
Slowly, the Noh mask nods.
16
Crossroads
The Impious Priest’s corpse has nothing we can use. His black, worn-out tome has disintegrated like a handful of ashes scattered to the wind, and none of us is so desperate for clothes to pick up his black cassock.
The soldiers’ halberds are likewise useless to us—Juanita doesn’t even know how to hold one; Miyu could wield them, but won’t; Abe prefers to see his foe’s face from up close, he says—and the pirate’s savage slashes damaged Lugo’s rusty cuirass too badly for it to offer much protection.
“An’ breastplates don’t be stoppin’ ‘em bullets,” Abe adds, spitting on the ground. “An’ weight ya down in a fight, an’ be draggin’ ya down t’ the bottom o’ the sea if ya felled into t’ the waves. Tell ya, Ol’ Abe can thinks no good reason fer why nobody would be wearin’ ‘em.”
Miyu slips Vigo’s dagger into the folds of her silks. She stands up, then pokes and prods into the tall grass with her naginata’s shaft until there’s a faint metallic clink. She kneels, picks up a piece of metal, hands it to me.
