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Welcome to To Be a Hero

18:35, 28th March 2024 (GMT+0)

To Be a Hero

Most of you remember it this way: You were walking in the countryside near your homes, strolling home from the tavern after a night's drinking, walking down to the river to fetch some water, or gone to visit some lass or lad in neighboring village.  And, suddenly, you heard a thrashing in the underbrush around you, and before you could turn you felt a whale of a blow to the back of your head, and everything went black.

When you awoke, you were in the dark, tiny, stinking hold of the pirate galley, shackled by your wrists to the sturdy beams of the slave bunks, bunks stacked like cordwood. There were about 40 other captured folk of the archipelago there. You were sick from the blow to your head and from the tossing of the ship, from the revolting gruel the slaver pirates occasionally fed you, and from the knowledge that you were bound for one of the western slave ports, never again to see your own home. Mockingly, the keys to your shackles were hung from a hook right by the hatch to the deck, only 5 or 6 feet from the lot of you. They might as well be miles away.