Tales of Mediocrity - The CaptainMature

"Hold!" The captain roared. He had been at sea for years now, searching. He had not known what for but as he had drawn up against the empty ship it had come to him. This would be his moment. This would be the point at which he proved himself. He stood facing four of the backwards men on the deck, their low chittering filling his mind. His shipmates fought hard around him, yet he felt it may not be enough. three of the Backwards Men advanced at once, their swords coming down together, arcing towards him. The Captain moved aside, avoiding the strikes, and drove his blade through the nearest face. The fourth Backwards Man, armed with nothing, now came striding towards him. As the captain parried another blow, the unarmed one lunged forward with a bulky fist, catching the Captain in the side. The Captain fell to the ground, and the three remaining Backwards Men dived towards him. The captain threw his cutlass down and drew his pistols. The Backwards Men kept coming, and his pistols felled two. The remaining one barrelled into The Captain, sending him flying. All around him, guns flare, swords clash. There is a man hanging from a rope, missing his left arm and part of his chest. His eyes are frozen wide and his mouth sits in a scream. The Captain barely notices.

The Captain rolled up against the rails, weaponless. His one remaining opponent leveled his sword at The Captain and chittered. chan a chad, chan a chee. The Backwards Man advanced until he was almost upon The Captain, who was merely waiting to strike. The Backwards Man raised his sword to strike. Salvation arrived in the form of a sweaty, panting man and an old blade. The old blade pierced the Backward Man's side as The Captain leaped forwards. The attack seemed to take the Backwards Man by surprise, as he falls. The Captain found a sword, cut the Backwards Man's chittering jaw off. The captain fell to the ground with the Backwards Man and laid still. The rest of the men ran towards the final kill of the day as the captain rose. Covered in black blood, he looked at each of them as they stared. Four had perished in the attack. They would not be mourned. The captain raised the found sword to the sky and roared for the men he had lost.

Night has fallen. An empty boat rides the waves closer to The Captain's ship. A sole figure stands at the helm, guiding the boat. He rocks as he chitters. chan a chad, chan a chee. The ship crashes up against The Captain's ship, and from below they stream out. The ones with the faces of the murderers. The ones who chatter and tremble. The fierce fighters, those who bleed black ichor. The Backwards men. But the Captain says nothing, he sits and waits in the shadows, his men with him. The Backwards Men stream onto the boat and The Captain meets them, beard trailing behind him, cutlass cutting through the air. His men follow behind him, a cacophany of noise rushing to meet the Backwards men. Few can see it, but The Captain is smiling.

The End

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