Sophia Martin
Stories
11
Chapters
7,174
Words
1.1 M
Comments
0
Reading
3 d, 21 h
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It is, of course, a nasty way to dehumanise people. Refer to them as cannibals, savages, pagans. Even ‘native’ has a ring of condescension to it. Primitive. Lesser. Having said that, some people are animals. It was probably some twisted idea of progressive liberalism that made me pleased these particular savages weren’t black, in grass skirts and bones through their noses. We all have our hang-ups with race. Did it really matter what people looked like? Wasn’t it their actions as individuals that…-
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Fire was one way to get people off the ship, but they still weren’t keen on finding refuge on the island. Both ships had boats they could lower into the water and row away, but it was no short trip back to Gorgoth. Spears were still being thrown at us, but the big ship was the main target. Its sails, which were lowered, were merrily ablaze. Various other fires were taking hold all over the side of the bigger vessel, not helped by the buckets of water the crew insisted on chucking around. Flames…
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It was a galleon, huge and imposing. It sat in the water like Jabba the Hutt, and our little sloop was its slave princess. Three masts, and plenty of men on deck, in the rigging, all frozen in place. It was easily as big as the large cargo ships back at the dock. Perhaps it was also a cargo ship that just happened to be passing by and saw us. Maybe it was a pirate ship that plundered cargo ships. No sign of a Jolly Roger, though. Did pirates really fly those? Seems very sporting of them to let you know…
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The thing that separates people from animals is our ability to predict the future based on past events. A lot of fucking good it does us. Maybe it was a problem peculiar to me. My approach to things from my past was to think about them as little as possible. Whatever I might learn from my mistakes didn’t come close to the comfort I derived from pretending they never happened. And a good method for achieving that was to fill my head with as much trivia and useless content as possible. That way, when I…
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It was early and the light was tinged with grey. The islanders were lined up all along the beach, on the rocks, up high on a cliff. There were dozens of them, dressed in skimpy leather beachwear. How had they known we were coming? Some sort of magic device? A giant dinner bell? Or did they just hang out here, ready to be seen by passing ships? Bit narcissistic, if you ask me. We had dropped anchor quite a distance from shore, which was a wise move. If they decided to dive into the water and come at us,…
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In any situation there are positives and negatives. In this particular case, even though I was faced with a crew of the undead in the service of a mad god who was constantly making my life a waking nightmare, it wasn’t all bad. On the positive side, I had the ability to take control of these walking sacks of muscle via the vines growing out of their heads. I had done it before with a couple of guards back in the temple. On the negatives side, I’d done it using the wooden sword which I no longer…
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Royn was reeling. The best way to deal with someone who is totally in touch with who they are and what they’re meant to be doing is to introduce them to the idea that everything they want might be obtainable quicker and easier. Stopping them is hard. Offer them an express ticket to get there faster, and they’ll lose interest in their own plans. That’s the real weakness of a smug bastard. Doubt. Not to make them think they’re wrong. They’ll resist that hard, no matter how incontrovertible the…
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Royn was very keen to know how I planned to deal with the islanders. His version of what they did to visitors was gruesome and bloody. He hinted at cannibalism, but the image of natives cooking me in a hot tub while they sliced carrots into it was too vivid in my mind to take his taunting seriously. Bugs Bunny to the rescue. My response was to give him some guff about the Golden God protecting his servants, but the truth was I had yet to figure out how to deal with the welcoming committee. There was…
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Why is it called common sense? I’ve never found it to be very common. Look at it this way. If I’m willing to take a ridiculous wager on a race between Jacked Jackson and Spongy Crudités, obviously I have an ace up my sleeve. I’m not going to go all in on the blind hope Damicar was secretly a crossfitter, heavyweight division. Even if Royn thought he would still win, he had to know something sketchy was going to go down. It’s a marvellous lesson when the tortoise beats the hare, but not the one…
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“You’re sure?” I asked Malmur. “I mean, if no one comes back alive, how do you know there are people there?” “Pleasure boats,” said Malmur. “Tomb raiders used to go there in search of treasure. And people would hire out boats to watch. Far enough out so as to not get sprayed with blood.” “So, there’s a company that sails out there?” One round-trip ticket, please. “Not anymore,” said Malmur. “Everyone gave up. It wasn’t worth it. No one to watch, no reason to charter a…
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