The Tale Of William Sunshot

William Sunshot

Honorable Pirate
Not too long ago, a man ended up on Port Royal alone and unaided after a fantastic night filled with entirely too much rum. He discovered that he had no money, and his beloved ship was nowhere to be found. He had nothing but a rusty cutlass and a hangover. His name was William Sunshot.

He went up to the local fort to ask for some help, but several Grunts and a Mercenary of the EITC arrested him and sent him to jail on false charges of being a pirate. He became quite angry at this, and decided that he would indeed become a pirate, and a
good one at that. He purchased a small galleon with money he took from defeated Navy soldiers, and went off to start his quest.

He would go on to plunder the high seas for some time, learning the ways of marksmanship, swordplay, and voodoo (which he is still skeptical of). He later upgraded to a Light Frigate, the Renegade Starlight, and took on more money and fame. He made his way to Kingshead, where his prized ship met its demise at the hands of a Navy Colossus. He ended up some time later on Padres del Fuego, where he purchased a larger ship which he called the Renegade General; this one a full Frigate.

After building himself up for a bit and becoming quite renowned for his skill with a blade, William began working for Jack Sparrow. His quest met an unfortunate end when he discovered he was incapable of walking through certain doors, and so he never worked for Jack again (The two are rumored to have a good relationship, though nobody can be certain.) William instead concentrated his efforts on improving himself and the various pirates he came in contact with.

He began looking for a guild, eventually settling on one called Famed. The guildmaster was nice enough, but the members were quite strange, and one of the officers seemed to dislike everyone. Eventually, William would go on to sink the officer's ship in a dramatic fashion with a full broadside from the General. The guild collapsed when the guildmaster left, and William began to look for another guild.

Two of the officers that William was friendly with left Famed earlier to join a guild called Spania. William had heard of these Spanians, and had heard that they were a powerful guild, one not to be trifled with. A little intimidated, he set up a meeting between his old officer, Eric Warmonger, an officer (soon to be GM) of Spania, Treasurer. The meeting went well, and William was accepted into the Guild.

Spania has been good to William. The many friendly pirates and involved officers/veterans/guildmaster have made his time easy, and he looks forward to working with them for some time to come. One might think of him as rather underwhelming due to his relative lack of notoriety, but there is another side to William, one dominated by a Stranger...
It’s dark outside tonight, very, very dark. There are no stars in the sky, no moon, no torches to guide my way. It’s warm, balmy, like a calm summer night in the Caribbean. The sand spreads beneath my feet leaving a string of footprints a mile long as I make my way down the beach searching for something, anything, to let me know where I am.

The shipwreck was terrible. There was a storm, that plague of sailors, and it struck with an unnatural quickness. The mast was gone before I knew it, and there was fire everywhere from shattered lanterns and errant oil. Men were screaming as the ship found the shoals, crashing, sinking, dying. The screaming was the worst. I think I’m the only one to make it out alive.

It was a big ship, a proud one. Her hull was sleek, her masts were strong, her sails plentiful and new. Everything was clean. We set out from… where was it again? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is this endless beach, the crash of the waves on my left, and the screams in my head. I know not who I am, nor where I’m from, only the dreary situation I find myself in now.

Off in the distance, an animal makes a sound. I am not alone.
The sky is a sickly green color as the young man takes up his musket and pouch. He is on Port Royal, where news has arisen that the undead hordes of Jolly Roger will be landing shortly. His humble home belies the great skill of the man, but there is no mistaken the cold, dead look in his eyes. He has killed before, and he will do it again.

Out into the rain he walks, a musket in his hand and a curious silver revolver on his belt. The rain begins to fall softly, soon to become a thundering storm. He reaches his spot; a small platform near a cargo crane. He huddles amongst the cargo and carefully stacks his supplies. A waterproof sniper's nest is quickly constructed.

Pirates swarm the beaches below as the Navy officers watch fearfully from their barracks. The man scowls at them, his tattooed face radiating menace from every pore. He does not appreciate their cowardice, but he admires the pirates so valiantly arrayed below him. They are his people, and he fights for them. The rain picks up.

A sudden crack of thunder and flash of lightning announce the arrival of the Harkaway, the dreaded flagship of Jolly Roger. A ghostly voice is heard issuing orders, and the undead begin to rise from the water. The pirates run to meet them, their blades meeting undead flesh in clashing, screeching bursts as gunshots pierce the noise of battle. These lesser undead are not the man's targets, so he waits as the pirates slaughter them.

A few more waves come ashore, each of which the pirates beat back with increasing difficulty. Finally, the true demons arise. Undead of greater size and power begin to assault the pirates, breaking their barricades and smiting the lesser amongst them. This time, the man gets involved.

The rumble of thunder masks the sound of his deadly muse as it reaches out and banishes the undead back to their watery graves. Silver reaches out from the barrel of the weapon, shattering the soldiers of the darned and thinning their ranks. He fires with unnatural speed and accuracy, although he was born with the weapon in his hand. The undead quickly panic as this new, unknown menace stalks them. The man begins to move around, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, killing three or four and moving on. The pirates below take joy in this unseen assistance, and attack again, helping to stem the tide. All of this changes in an instant as the greatest demon sets his cursed foot ashore.

Jolly Roger has touched down on Port Royal.

The man wastes no time, he leaps from the rooftops and tumbles to the dirt, drawing his revolver as he does so. The weapon is intricately engraved, the long, smooth silver of its barrel gleaming in the fires that many Keg Runners had left. He grips the ivory handle comfortably, and takes careful aim. His feet stand apart, his right arm rock steady, his unblinking gaze peering straight into the eyes of the Undead King.


The man does not answer, but fires once. The revolver mechanism snaps like a work of art, the silver bullet streaking from its place among its brothers and striking Jolly Roger square between the eyes. The ancient power of the Oriental silver does the trick, as Jolly howls with the thunder and disappears back to his ship. The undead flagship departs, the invasion thwarted.

When the pirates look to the man with the revolver, he is gone.
Thinking of compiling it into a real novel? I'll bet you can find a publisher that would be interested in working with you. You have a real talent; I LOVE your choice of wordings.

You used several style, don't you? First chapter he was the third person, then he was the first person on the second chapter, then he was the third person again on the third chapter. I do think that there was something 'missing' on the story though ... I found the second chapter to be the most interesting and intriquing one. But that part was not finished yet ... "he was not alone ...", are you gonna continue that on the next chapter? Also, it was disconnected between chapter 1, 2 and 3. I could see that chapter 1 and 3 were connected, even though you called him "William" at the end of chapter 1, then suddenly you changed him to "the man" on chapter 3. Are those chapters building one whole story, or are they different stories, or am I just too impatient and I jumped to conclusion too soon?

Regardless, well done, William ... can't wait for the continuation. Keep them coming!
All three of the stories will come together in a future post. Eventually, I'll pull it into a single short story and figure it out from there. The styles differ because of the tense; the first post is more of a historical background, or a short little biography. The other two posts are the actual process, more like a novel. I switched the point of view simply because I wanted to, but also because its designed to make you think in a lateral fashion. Trust me, when it all comes together, it'll be nice.

Also, you're missing a very key part of the story from the first post. I'm not telling you what it is, but you might want to consider the capitalization of a few strange words...

The rain drove hard as I approached the dock. I had almost nothing with me; a change of clothes, an old rusty dagger, and the wooden box my father gave me ten years ago. The vessel ahead of me was a new galleon, one of Spanish design. Someone told me a while back that her captain was a man from the Spanian guilds, a worthy man and excellent captain. As strange as it seemed, I almost looked forward to sailing with him.

At the end of the dock, the first mate stood at the end of the ramp with a chart. He was checking names off a list as men much larger than me boarded the ship. I walked up with my pack, approaching him cautiously.

"Oi mate, who the
are you?"

"A guy looking for a job. You?"

"I'm the first mate of this ship, Captain Sunshot's right hand mate. You ain't getting on here without the seal of Sunshot or a
good talent."

I judged the man, looking through the rain with a blank look on my face. The rain made the dock slick, a terrible battlefield. I'd have to take this to the ship. I push the man lightly in the chest, knocking him on his backside on the slick deck.

"Sunshot hired lubbers like you to crew his ship? Come on now mate, can't be falling over yourself. You have a ship to run!"

To their credit, the crew wastes no time. They leap after me, large, strong, and horrendously underskilled. The first man falls victim to a stern right hand to the temple, dropping him like a bag of stones. The second comes after me from behind, an equally poor call. I'm not an idiot. My right hand continues on its arc, swinging me around to elbow the second guy in the ribs with my left arm. He takes a knee. A third man walks up slowly, bearing a knife.

I draw my own dagger and dive in. The first cut lands across his forehead, cutting deep. The blood covers his face, blinding him. He swings clumsily, leaving himself open for a stab to the neck. I land a colossal uppercut to his jaw instead, sending him to the planks. I hear something behind me and hurl my blade as hard as I can. Oddly, I don't hear the telltale smack of the blade hitting its target.

"That will be quite enough." says a calm voice

A towering man in a dark coat holds my dagger by its tip, his cold gray eyes giving no hint of emotion. I look at him, then see the crew struggling to their feet around me. They seem to respect the
out of this guy. I take him as the captain.

William Sunshot himself.
Any deficiency the crew had on land was made up for in spades when aboard their ship. The ship itself, a frigate named the Renegade Guardian, was sturdy enough but it was a work of art under Captain Sunshot. The decks gleamed with a polished shine, the sails were sturdy and crisp, and even the crew was well groomed. Normally, I'd think of this as a sign of a captain with too much time on his hands, but these men were intense. The first ship we attacked was looted and sunk in a matter of minutes, and the crew was safely stowed away to be ransomed later.

The captain himself kept to his quarters mostly, but when he came out, the crew was at attention. I took their cues and followed along, though I was unsure why exactly he was so revered. All he had done for me was catch a knife. I would find out very soon what he was worth. He came out of his cabin one morning, and uttered a few lines none of us would ever forget.

"We're going to port at Tortuga to offload these hostages and sell what we have. There, you get a choice. You can either stay there and look for a new crew and captain, or you can stay on and come with me to Raven's Cove."

The men murmured, slightly fearful of the ghostly island.

"Before you make a decision though, let me say this: we'll be sailing for a downed Spanish galleon. A galleon that was part of a treasure fleet. There are rumors going about that it was worth over five hundred thousand gold. That's 10 grand for each of you."

More murmuring. Could he deliver?
I am addicted by now ...

Are you majoring in screen writing, english or the kind? You should try to write this into a screen play and sell it to Hollywood!
We landed on Tortuga a day later. The sun was out, it was early, and the island was mostly unconscious and hungover. The cargo was quickly unloaded, the hostages were ransomed, and the gold was quickly stored in the various hiding places that the crew employed. Oddly, I did not see a captain's share anywhere. I stored my own gold in a hollowed out tree, rigged it with a trap that would decapitate anyone that came close to it using some razor wire and a trip. I quickly returned to the ship.

Oddly, the Guardian was nowhere to be seen. Sunshot was on the dock, overseeing the crew gathering up around him. Someone got to the question before me.

"Uh, sir, where be the ship?"

Sunshot smiled.

"All in due time. But first, who's coming?"

Everyone raised their hands. Sunshot looked mildly surprised, but nodded.

"Good. Follow me. There's something about this island you should know."

We set off, matching the pace of the long-striding captain. He was taking us away from the main settlement and out to the woods. Nobody questioned him.

We walked on for most of that day, taking a seemingly random route that thoroughly confused almost everyone. Sunshot seemed like he knew where he was going, as did the first mate, but everyone else was in the dark. Except for me. I knew exactly where we were going. I had been marooned there in my childhood, 19 long years ago.