A Sailor's Tale: The Origin of Julius d'Amore

[cambo]

OOC Note:
Julius d'Amore's profile can be viewed on the thread Registry of Julius d'Amore.


Chapter 1

Part I

Julius d'Amore stood at the bow of the ship, his arms folded across his chest while the wind rushing by him plastered his damp shirt to his body. His light brown hair, considered dark blonde by others, was being thrown back by the occasional strong gust of wind though the man himself budged not an inch. He stood quietly, and every crewmember that passed him by knew to leave him to his contemplation. A rhythmic jingle resounded throughout the air, above the crashing of the ocean's small waves, as a lone figure made its way towards Julius. The constant thud of boots on deck stopped, as did the jingling, when they reached the man standing on the ship's bow. Every crewmember... excluding the captain.

"Lost in thought again, are ye loverboy?"

The captain aboard the ship Devilwind always enjoyed a joke at another's expense. Jokes aimed at Julius, in particular, always took on some form of the word 'love.' He was without a doubt the most peaceful person on deck, even if his unrivaled swordsmanship spoke otherwise, and because the literal translation of his surname meant 'Of Love' he was oft teased for it.

"Is it really necessary?" Asked the man in question, "The complete annhialation of the merchant's vessel and its crew?" An inflection in his voice emphasized the word 'crew' heavily.

"Tsk, tsk lad. Much to learn, have ye. We are pirates o' the Sword Coast!"

This latest statement, proclaimed loudly, brought forth a large cheer from nearby crewmembers who had paused to watch the captain and first mate converse. Glancing over his shoulder in annoyance, the captain berated his crew in a voice twice as loud as the previous shout in an attempt to convey his message to the other side of the ship where other slackers inevitably rested.

"Back to work, ye dogs!"

Julius, turning to watch the spectacle with amused laughter, shook his head, his matted locks of blonde-brown hair swinging this way and that. His laughter was short lived, however, as the lookout in the crow's nest gave a shout of surprise. Recovering from his initial shock, the man in the nest rushed over to the edge facing the direction of the captain and first mate.

"Merchant vessel spotted! Flying the flag of a lesser nation to boot!"

This brought a torrent of excited hoots and hollers from everywhere on deck. This time the captain made no move to silence them. Instead he yelled over the unceasing cheers of battle, an impossibly loud yell enough to move even the lazy lookout to immediate action.

"What flag boy?! Get ye gone from my ship if'n I can't get the details! Details!"

In a desperate scramble to please his captain, the lookout spun about with his looking glass already halfway extended before his superior had even finished the threat.

"M-Murann, cap'n. Ship's flyin' Murann's flag!"

With a gleam in his eye and a grin on his face, the captain shouted eagerly.

"Prepare the ballistae! Ready yer weap'ns, boys, for the gods've blessed us with our third ship today!"

The captain looked back at Julius with a wink, though it could have just been a blink for the eyepatch over his left eye made it difficult to tell. Julius, however, could tell. He could always tell. Every last man on the ship was preparing for a slaughter, yet Julius was not.

With little time to face his true feelings, he drew the two objects he trusted the most. His rapier and the dirk that accompanied it, the two things he trusted more than any of the liars, thieves, and murderers that resided with him belowdeck.

Comforting himself in the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the hilt of each weapon, he drew a long breath and sheathed them. His thoughts were now far away, replaced by the single mindset of anticipating the upcoming battle. His feeling of conscience slipped away then, a feeling that would reappear upon the battle's conclusion. A feeling that would shame him back into meditative thought. It only ever reappeared after the battle. Oh, how he hated finishing the battle.

[cambo]

Chapter 1

Part II

The impossibly heavy crate, supported by several men making their way to the docks, tumbled out of the hands of its bearers as the lead man clumsily stubbed his heel on a sharp rock. As it hit the ground, the steep gradient of the worn trail leading down to the ocean combined with the little momentum it already possessed and carried it into a roll that steadily increased in speed the further it escaped from the dumbfounded carriers. Various shouts and curses, enough curses to fill a dictionary, accompanied it on its way down.

Captain Armond let out a defeated sigh, watching from afar as some of his bumbling crew failed yet another simple mission.

How much of the gold spilling out of that crate will be lost to recompensate for the damage it is causing? He pondered quietly, his brows furrowing in frustration and his arms folded tightly across his chest.

As if on cue to his silent contemplations the massive, unstoppable crate bowled over yet another merchant stall.

Lucky for them, they can think faster than any two of my men combined. He thought to himself, an amused grin finding its way onto his face as one merchant after another, after a surprised yelp, managed to dodge the crate fast enough to avoid the untimely fate of death by money crate.

The simple container that had fast become a machine of destruction finally met its match at the stone wall surrounding the better portion of Memnon's docks. Into the wall it crashed, wood splintering every which way and little coins exploding into a shower of money that precipitated into the nearby ocean. A grim, angered expression once more finding its way onto Armond's face, the captain made a mental note to start searching for new crewmembers as soon as they put into Murann. He turned on his heels, heading for his quarters situated just inside the hull, near the stern of the ship. He would have to come up with an estimate for the damage.

A few days and riches later Armond and his crew put out of the harbor belonging to the coastal city Memnon, headed for Murann with a clear blue sky above them and a favorable wind at their backs. Armond, standing some distance behind the helmsman, shifted uneasily. They were nearing a strait that would paint a target on their ship that any pirates within the vicinity would kill each other to pounce on. He knew he had to make it past the choke point before he could even think about breathing easier, yet recent circumstances, the favorable wind had died down as if to prove a point, had already shown him that lady luck had already forsaken him. They entered the strait, for they could not afford the time to go around.

"Ship spotted, cap'n!" Shouted the lookout, then more apprehensively, "Unidentified sails, sir."

The captain needed no further clarification. Armond's heart sank like a rock.

[cambo]

Chapter 1

Part III

Julius stood on the port side of the front end of the pirate vessel, his left foot planted firmly onto the raised portion of the deck before him. His right hand rested comfortably on the handguard of the rapier belted to his side while his left hand subtly reached behind his back and under his cloak to check one of the two throwing knives that were concealed on his person. The other throwing knife, concealed in his boot, he could feel at all times. The familiar feel of his weapons brought the morally conflicted pirate a measure of comfort amidst the torrent of thoughts that invaded his mind upon his sighting of the ill-prepared crew aboard the opposite ship rushing to ready themselves for battle.

"Ye look as if'n ye seen a ghost, boy!" laughed the captain, once more standing next to his first mate.

The man was puffing on a cigar of no cheap make, a symbol indicating how well off he was as much as his loud but fancy manner of dress. And the bells on his boots! Such an unusual choice that none other than the captain dared adorn himself with.

"Don't ye be disappointin', lad. Conflicted as ye are, ye've a job on this ship as important as any!" He spoke through his teeth, the cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth.

As the captain turned to walk away, he hefted a rather heavy and ornate looking crossbow onto his shoulder. Julius could see many more of his ship mates doing the same. He pursed his lips in thought as he watched the captain walk away, and then moved fully port side to await the imminent battle.

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"Ready those crossbows! Load those cannons faster! Steady yourselves, here come the boarding planks!" Barked Armond to his crew, his own crossbow thudding in his hands with a twang as it launched its quarrel into the eagerly awaiting crew bustling about on the ship that was only twenty yards away.

The volleys of bolts from both ships left each side a few sailors short. Not only was Armond now short a few sailors that his incapable crew desperately needed, his mainsail was torn to pieces by that evil ballista mounted upon the pirate ship. His hull was damaged and cracked in a few places where the marauders had launched their superior cannonballs in response to the measly first strike that Armond had initiated with his own cannons. His ship Elizabeth Claire, the name of his only daughter, was not designed for warfare and now he was to lose her to a band of pirates.

"I'd give anything to see her face once more before I die..." he lamented quietly.

With nothing left to lose, Armond drew the massive greatsword held by the scabbard slung across his back. His expression was grim, set, determined. These pirates would not have his ship so easily.

[cambo]

Chapter 1

Part IV

Standing in a relaxed position on his side of the boarding plank, Julius observed the men gathered around the other side where he had forced it into their midst. He eyed them with a blank, expressionless face and though neither of his weapons were drawn, his right hand rested comfortably on the hilt of his rapier. He took one step onto the plank, never taking his eyes off of his adversaries.

A trained fighter would have noticed his graceful step, his comfortable battle-ready stance, and the determination with which he carried himself, but these people were no soldiers. Being the swaggering, undisciplined sailors they were, the only things they noticed were that the man in front of them was unarmed and that he was outnumbered five to one.

Have they even considered that uneven odds don't work on a plank of this size? He wondered in silent amusement.

The unwavering gaze Julius held upon his foes paid off, for the flicker of movement in his peripheral vision was the only warning for the crossbow bolt he knew was to be flying in at him from his right at any moment. He dropped into a crouch, twisting left to mask the movement of his left hand. Both of his arms seemed to synchronize perfectly as the right drew his rapier and his left whipped out the throwing dagger concealed under his cloak. He raised and pivoted right just in time to deflect the incoming bolt with his slender blade, simultaneously flicking his left wrist to release the balanced throwing knife. The poor sailor dropped his crossbow, clutching at his throat as his lifeblood stained the deck below him.

The group of sailors awaiting Julius on the other ship's deck lost much of their confidence as they watched the spectacle unfold within a matter of seconds. They made their first mistake as they unconsciously backed away a couple steps. The lone man that had remained mostly inanimate until his recent counterattack exploded into motion once more, clearing the plank in two leaping bounds. His second stride landed him on the small semicircle that the timid sailors had unknowingly left him and this time he took up the offensive.

Almost magically, another dagger had found itself into the dangerous man's left hand but this one possessed a much longer blade. The dirk and his rapier weaved harmoniously together, creating a spectacular dance as they worked upon the sailor in front of him. His first melee opponent staggered back, decorated by a numerous amount of wet, red lines all over his torso.

This action gave the four around him enough time to regain their senses and draw their weapons. The one to his left lunged forward in an attempt to catch the man off guard, but Julius simply hopped back onto the plank behind him. Overbalanced and with an exposed right flank, he lasted but a few seconds until he, too, fell to the ground like the two before him.

With a flick of his wrist, Julius sent the blood dripping from his slender sabre into the sea below. The sharks infesting the waters around the two interlocked ships flocked hungrily to that minuscule amount of blood. Sharks of the Sword Coast were always hungry.

[cambo]

Chapter 1

Part V

Armond, fighting bravely upon his daughter's namesake, stepped back from his latest attacker as the man fell, quite dead, to the floor with a split in his skull as deep as any trench he had ever sailed over. The beating sun overhead combined with the effort of battle lathered Armond's entire body in sweat that stung the various nicks and grazes that he managed to come away with after battling one invader after another.

In the momentary reprieve that had just begun with his latest kill Armond glanced over just in time to see a lone pirate dispatch Grunt and Barney, two of his best brawlers, in the midst of three other sailors. He gawked openly at the man when a flashing flurry of steel cut down Kane, another experienced fighter who had cautiously approached him after he retreated back onto the boarding plank.

Hearing rushing footsteps, the captain turned and lifted his greatsword just in time for it to take the brunt of the oncoming scimitar aimed for his throat. Adjusting his grip on the giant sword's hilt, Armond spun around in the same direction the blow had been travelling. The momentum of his spin combined with his deadly accuracy and the greatsword crash through a feeble attempt at a parry and lodged itself partway into the pirate's neck.

A tug pulled the sword free and at the same time showered the captain in the blood of his enemy. He turned to see that yet another of his sailors had been dispatched and the brilliant swordsman was working on another.

"Not on my ship..." growled Armond as he hefted his sword and entered the killing zone of Julius d'Amore.

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Julius recognized at once the level of difference in skill that this new opponent, a bear of man approaching him fast, possessed compared to his comrades. Easily sliding his slender sabre from the chest of his latest victim, he pivoted just in time to catch a backhand to his nose. His face exploded into pain, the sensation of warm liquid flowing freely onto his lips a feeling that he knew all too well.

There was no time to pause, however, as a giant blade soon followed the first strike. Dropping into a roll, Julius came up to the man's right as his diagonally downward chop came through and exposed his flank. His two blades poked into the man's ribs but fell short of any vital areas, retracting themselves as the pirate hopped back just in time to avoid another devastating backhand.

The big man roared in denial to shove away the pain and lifted the greatsword to try another attack pattern, stepping forward in an attempt to intimidate his foe. Julius, happy to oblige, backed away a few steps and glanced at his footing to make sure he was safe enough to maneuvre away from the rediculously strong man's swings.

He noticed the crossbowman he had dropped earlier lying just behind him, face up with the handle of a perfectly balanced throwing knife protruding from his throat. He noted the distance he had given his adversary and smiled inwardly, a plan forming within his quick mind. Feigning a slip, Julius pretended to lose footing on the body behind him and fell. He turned in his fall to come face-to-face with the contorted expression of his first victim.

He grimaced but yanked the dagger free and turned as quickly as he could. How a man of that size could move so impossibly fast! The man bearing down on Julius was but ten feet away, almost within range to use his large sword, but this did not deter Julius from lashing out with the throwing knife.

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Armond had only the warning of the glint of steel in the sunlight before the dagger embedded itself into his heart. He clutched at it for a second but, realizing the futility of his action, dropped his hand. His sword rang the sound of steel hitting wood as it fell harmlessly onto the blood-soaked deck of Elizabeth Claire.

Elizabeth Claire, how he'd love to see her innocent smiling face once more before death had overtaken him. But no more, he realized, for his vision had already started to darken. He looked up from his mortal wound to gaze at his adversary with grief stricken eyes. The man had not moved from his spot. He glanced around at the bodies of sailors that surrounded him, the majority of them his own, and noticed that the other pirates were close to finishing up.

"H-Happy now?"

His voice croaked as he struggled to speak with every breath. He gestured to the scene unfolding around them.

"You've killed my men, you've destroyed my boat, you've taken my daughter's father from her."

He gasped in pain and slid to a sitting position, unable to see the man in front of him anymore.

"Armond... captain of the ship Elizabeth Claire... h-his daughter's namesake. Remember that. I hope you're happy with it..."

The dying captain trailed off as darkness spread from his vision to his mind. Breathing his last, the blackness finally overtook him completely and his eyes glazed over with the characteristic emptiness of death.

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Though the man may have though his lament had fallen on the deaf ears of a callous pirate, for Julius, who was already conflicted, his statement struck a chord. He had given the captain his undivided attention from the moment he had seen those melancholy dull blue eyes, cloudy like his own, stare at him in open grief. It was a shock to him at first, since the only dying looks he had ever received were ones of agony, surprise, or anger.

Then the man had spoken. How those words had resounded so deeply with every one of Julius' doubts and fears! He turned then, trying to hide the expression of anguish that contorted his handsome features as he made his way across to his own ship where his quarters awaited.

Where his conscience awaited.