Legend of Owafu The Set Vol. II

The Waerd Chronicles

Table Glossary

Volume I

It was a brisk morning in the birth of winter. Like a prisoner, the sun was blocked by an army of grey clouds. The cold violent wind reminded every soul on the surface of how cruel the winter could be. Luckily for Pyrovia, the harvest was plentiful. And after the massacre in the farms, King Ra’Xa no longer trusted civilians to work the land without unseen guards watching over them in the shadows.

Indeed the Janoa had lost a great number that night and again the Twelve were famed as heroes who avenged innocent blood. Albeit the lost of the farmers put the Waerd Kingdom at a great disadvantage. With the Agriculturalist dead, including his apprentices, they only knew of one solution that could possibly save the lands husbandry; for when the winter passes if the ground was not liberated by humann hands, many would die.

“This is suicide, Owafu. And here I thought we would grow old together and raise our new child. Instead you impregnate me and send me to the slaughter.” Nyssa protested.

“Haha, since when do you fear death? Perhaps this is a mood change. If so I will gladly pardon it.” He grinned.

“I am...serious. You are worst then the King’s bed wench. Can’t you ever say no to him?” She said.

“Nyssa, this was not the Kings’s decision. We shall speak of this another time.”

Owafu and Nyssa were interrupted by the sounds of hooves that came to greet them. Eleven Waerd arrived on strong legged horses. The Twelve were united once more; all glad to meet the Set.

“Good to see you Owafu.” Tall-Paka bowed in greeting.

Tall-Paka was not only second in command, but he was a General of the Kings armada; who happened to be a great warrior that everyone listened to—who also happened to be a childhood friend of Owafu.

“They call your plan suicidal. I am sure you have heard this enough.” Tall’Paka chuckled.

“Aye, so I’ve heard,” he smirked at Nyssa. “What do you think, ol friend? Do you think I’m crazy as they say?”

“I think you’re clearly mad.” Tall’Paka frowned.

Owafu exhaled, thus before he could convince him further, Tall’Paka had more to share.

“But not because you are lying. I have also seen this Saltwater Mangrove that you speak of. I can testify that it’s real.”

The Twelve listened in intently.

“It is also true that there was a Mydarri shipwreck last night, just north of us on the coast. A merchant cargo that not only ported slaves but great treasures.” Tall’Paka explained.

“And I am sure the ship will be well guarded. And reinforcements will turn in quick.” Wamukota said.

“Which gives us little time. Two days at max. We’ve already discussed the plans this morning. And nightfall slowly approaches. With that said you’re either out or your in. But I won’t take you if your heart is not right about it.” Owafu finished.

Slowly they all brought their hands in. This was a sign that they accepted the plan. Nyssa was careful and once the votes were decided against her, she brought in her hand. Owafu said his words of rally and they mounted up.

Later that evening, the location was spotted. A Mydarri vessel was torn at the base, lying right over the northern coast. There was construction, ropes tied to the vessel and the trees for support. The boatswains had just finished making repairs, but they would have to wait it out until the storm cleared.

A large number of Mydarri pirates nestled over the bonfire, eating; some patrolling the area and the scattered treasure chests broken all over the place. A pile of gold pieces made a mountain of coin on the shore; awaiting to see if the ship repairs could hold or another ship arrived to save them after the storm.

Rain crashed over them. Thunder was heard and lightning dashed from the skies. The Twelve stealthily avoided the crowd and climbed the ship. About ten Mydarri remained on the vessel, watching over the ship and slaves still in the holding chamber. Owafu tossed a steel bar down into the vented holes of the floor chamber...

Boreal eyes opened. A Neran seaman was chained and covered in sweat; twenty more of his tribe made of mann and womann woke as well. The Quartermaster came downstairs after hearing the noise.

“What was that?” The Mydarri yelled.

There was no answer.

“So no one wants to speak up? I was prepared to tell our Cook to roast up something special tonight. But since ye keepin’ silent, I will tell him no supper for you.” He cackled.

“Sir, come a bit closer and I will show you.” The Neran said.

The Quartermaster frowned, “No better make this quick.”

The Neran, as the Mydarri came closer brought the steel bar into the Quartermaster’s torso. Crimson seamed out of his lips and he collapsed to hit the floor hard.

On the deck of the ship, the Captain had arrived to bring back food for his menn. They were all slaughtered. Body parts were filleted and the deck was covered in scarlet. He screamed and went down into the holding chambers only to see that the slaves chains were all broken.

“Please, let us speak about this civilly.” The Captain cried. “Please have mercy!”

The Neran slaves rushed him and all took turns beating into his flesh. They carried him up on deck and forced a mutiny; pinning his corpse into a giant fish hook—letting him hang. The Neran rallied each other; only to see the black skinned warriors, who freed them, arrive wickedly from the shadows. Fear was seen in the Neran people’s eyes.

“I am Owafu. We heard about the shipwreck and came for mutual opportunity.” The Set explained. “So these are the options you have. You work for me and tend our farms for two years and then you are free to go. Or we kill all of you and know how that ends.”

The Neran listened and had little choice to take the former. “We will work for you, Owafu. Thank you for saving us from the monsters of the sea.”

“Good. Find a decent weapon then. And let us take the mountain of gold on the coast. We will split the gold evenly. And your family will be rich, under Owafu’s protection. You have my word.”