Captain Johnathan
Swashbuckler
"I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell."
-William Tecumseh Sherman
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"Roter Sand"
(Translation: Red Sand.)
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Chapter 1:
If you're reading this I congratulate you on your discovery. You must be quite the treasure hunter. My name is Johnathan. I fought in many great conflicts in this here group of islands known as the Caribbean. My story begins far away from here. Far, far north.
I was born in Sweden, from what I've been told. A British missionary found me whining in a field, wrapped in a wolf's furcoat.
My true mother and father were nowhere to be seen.
He took me home to England and raised me as a son.
I grew up in a small village next to the ocean. We made a living by fishing.
Eventually, I got bored of the same old life.
Once my adopted father passed away from the flu, I decided to hide myself in the cargo hold of a British ship just to see where it would take me.
A few months later, I found myself in the Caribbean. The weather at first was unbearable. There is no heat in hell comparable to this godforsaken humidity.
But, as always, I adapt.
I worked the docks in Port Royale for a few months, carrying cargo and tying ships.
One day, after a long day of work, I decided to spend some of what I earned on "the life of man." That is to say, I went to a tavern that night.
There was an individual wearing colors of yellow and red. Promising riches and honor for any man who was brave enough.
He looked at me, saw the rags on my back and the torn pants upon my legs.
I accepted his offer and became a privateer for the Spanish navy.
After docking at a Spanish outpost on a small island, I was given necessary equipment for my "Job."
I practiced with a sword, and did well. They also tried to put me in as a grenadier, but I lacked a proper throwing arm and ended up blowing up an ammo barrack.
They found I work most excellent with:
A musket, a bayonet, and a pack of ammo.
This was only the beginning. If I had known what awaited me in the years to come, I probably would have just ended it all right then and there...
(To be Continued.)
-William Tecumseh Sherman
----------
"Roter Sand"
(Translation: Red Sand.)
---------
Chapter 1:
If you're reading this I congratulate you on your discovery. You must be quite the treasure hunter. My name is Johnathan. I fought in many great conflicts in this here group of islands known as the Caribbean. My story begins far away from here. Far, far north.
I was born in Sweden, from what I've been told. A British missionary found me whining in a field, wrapped in a wolf's furcoat.
My true mother and father were nowhere to be seen.
He took me home to England and raised me as a son.
I grew up in a small village next to the ocean. We made a living by fishing.
Eventually, I got bored of the same old life.
Once my adopted father passed away from the flu, I decided to hide myself in the cargo hold of a British ship just to see where it would take me.
A few months later, I found myself in the Caribbean. The weather at first was unbearable. There is no heat in hell comparable to this godforsaken humidity.
But, as always, I adapt.
I worked the docks in Port Royale for a few months, carrying cargo and tying ships.
One day, after a long day of work, I decided to spend some of what I earned on "the life of man." That is to say, I went to a tavern that night.
There was an individual wearing colors of yellow and red. Promising riches and honor for any man who was brave enough.
He looked at me, saw the rags on my back and the torn pants upon my legs.
I accepted his offer and became a privateer for the Spanish navy.
After docking at a Spanish outpost on a small island, I was given necessary equipment for my "Job."
I practiced with a sword, and did well. They also tried to put me in as a grenadier, but I lacked a proper throwing arm and ended up blowing up an ammo barrack.
They found I work most excellent with:
A musket, a bayonet, and a pack of ammo.
This was only the beginning. If I had known what awaited me in the years to come, I probably would have just ended it all right then and there...
(To be Continued.)