“Do you think he made it all the way out here? Captain Mendez did say he hit him with a musket ball, and you know how good of a shot he is.” I wake up with a mouth full of dirt, leaves, and god knows what else, but somehow I keep from immediately spitting it all out. Which wouldn’t be good with alerting guards standing less than 10 feet away from me. They don’t seem to be very concerned about finding me out here. I check on my right shoulder and see dried blood showing through my shirt. I probe a bit, but it’s only a very superficial flesh wound. All I need to do is clean it a bit. It’ll definitely hinder me swinging a sword though. “Eh, we don’t even know who it is. We don’t know if it’s a slave or a party goer. I guess if it was a slave, they’ll figure it out soon. They rounded them all up at the slave quarters down the hill, and if any come up missing or have a bullet wound we’ll know. As for one of those entitled pricks at the party, I doubt any of them could take a step after getting shot. You don’t see people that coddled very often. I suspect it’s an assassin. You know Mr. Mera has been making a lot of enemies as of late.” “Yea, I doubt it was a slave anyways. Mr. Mera is a mean son of a bitch to those poor souls. Does he really line them up on their first day and give them ten lashings?” “He gives them lashings until one draws blood. Might be less than ten, but it’s usually more. The mark has to be 6 in long on the women and 9 in on the men. He does it to ‘set expectations’... and he’s only gotten worse since that fire on his ship. That’s when he started building up his own personal militia. I’m not sure what he’s planning, but I’m sure it’s gonna be brutal.” Well, I guess it seems like I’m dealing with trash… I always enjoyed assignments like this. I always enjoy making the world a better place, even in the real world. I decide these two weren’t all that bad, so I chunk a rock through the thick foliage. It makes a good deal of noise as it tumbles down the mountainside. “Oi, fuck… is that him you think?” “Maybe, lets make our way down and see. Just be careful, I don’t feel much like dying tonight.” I wait a couple minutes for them to get far enough away, and start sneaking back towards the mansion. I come across a couple patrols, but it wasn’t too difficult to avoid them since they were just making simple circles around the mansion. Although, when I get over the wall the guards were every-fucking-where. I make it through the maze without having to kill any guards, and I go around the courtyard to the outhouses since there was more foliage on that side. “That’s gonna be the end to the easy part.” Around the mansion, there are guards dressed a tad fancier than the other guards I’d seen, not as much as the Captain though. They encircle the mansion with a man every 30 feet or so. Each is armed with a musket, two pistols, and a sword on their side, and none are talking amongst themselves. Each one is devoting all of their attention to scanning for any threats. I slip back into the foliage, and creep just inside the treeline looking for anything I can use. I make an entire circle, but the entire house is entirely too well guarded for me to make my way in. Even if I did make my way in, I’m sure the inside will be guarded at least as well, if not better. As I sit there trying to come up with some kind of strategy, my eyes fall Mr. Tormal’s table. The courtyard is being neglected by way of guards for the moment, so I see if a drink will help me think of something. As I look for that peach brandy, I find a couple bottles with clear liquid in them. “Tsk, Tsk, Mr, Tormal… watering down alcohol you were so proud of. I guess I probably should hydrate.” I turn the bottle up, and quickly regret my decision to ‘hydrate’… the high proof alcohol going down the wrong pipe and up my nose is quite unpleasant. “Fuck, that is most definitely not water.” I look towards the house and then back to the bottle. A smirk spreads across my face, “Nope, not water at all.” “Mrs. Brown, I hope you appreciate what I’m doing here. If I had half a brain, I would have just left this fucking place and went home. I guess having my main fence for ill-gotten goods owing me a favor is worth it though.” As I finish placing the final molotov just inside the treeline, I pull out a flint and steel and light a pile of cloth soaked in alcohol. I ended up with twenty-two pint sized bottles, and as I light the first one, I say a small prayer to calm my nerves. “Dear Lord, I know we don’t talk like we should… but please don't let me drop one of these bottles.” I step out from behind the massive tree hiding the light from the small fire I’m using to light the bottles, and begin chunking the first bottle at the house. It sails through the air, which sounds almost exactly like it does in a movie. The guards all look up, trying to figure out what is flying over their heads. It’s hard to believe that, even though they’re super easy to make, firebombs like this didn’t really catch on until the 20th century… I guess holding a flaming bottle with a bunch of flammable liquid sounds pretty stupid… The guards stare dumbfounded until the bottle hits the side of the mansion. The high proof alcohol ignites, sending flames over an area about 20 feet in diameter. I throw another bottle, this one going through one of the tower windows, bursting into flames. I have no idea what was in the tower, but it was damn sure flammable. In the few seconds that it took the elite guards to figure out what was happening, the tower is billowing flames. Although, when those few seconds were up, all hell broke loose. At first, I had 10 muskets leveled at me, and leaping behind the tree was all I could do. Then I heard dozens of steps converge about 30 yards from me. Then, I heard the cocking of just as many rifles. I wait a few moments to see if they were going to charge, and since it looks like a waiting game, I tie three lit bottles together. I take a moment to steel myself, and I throw the bottles from around the tree. Just before I could get back behind the tree, all of the muskets leveled at me fire. By the time the powder in the pans ignites the main powder charges, everything but my left hand is behind the tree. The pain erupting from my left hand causes me to fall into my nicely stacked bottles… that were just a couple feet away from the fire I was using to light the bottles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” I ignore my left hand for now, and just start chunking flaming molotovs from behind the tree. I hear some bottles burst open and some bottles just thud against the ground, but even the unexploded ones blow up eventually. Then the screams start to erupt from the soldiers ranks. Looking down, I see there are less than ten bottles left, but one had been cooking beside the fire for far too long for me to be comfortable. So, I grab the last of the bottles I tied together and start sprinting from behind the tree. A few seconds later the bottle explodes behind me. As I break away from the tree I was worried about being pelted with musket fire, but as I look over the remaining guards, I realize I am the last thing on their minds. I suppose their uniforms were made of cotton instead of wool, considering how enthusiastically they seem to be burning. One of my firebombs must have landed in the firing line the guards were forming since pretty much all of them ablaze, and the ones that aren’t on fire, they are being chased by the guards that need to be put out. The scene is almost comical since it’s a game… until you realize these men are feeling every bit of pain. I try to ignore the feeling of my stomach trying to sink out of my ass, but simulated pain or not, this is a fucked up way to kill someone. Shaking my head to clear it, I continue around to the front of the mansion, and I find a large tree to lean on as I collect myself. “Oh shit… my hand.” Holding my left hand up, my stomach starts to sink again. On my palm, there is a hole little over an inch in diameter. It’s purple, swollen, and bleeding, but nothing terrible. Although when I flip my hand, I see what looks like a monster’s maw gaping at me. The bullet blasted out, taking most of the muscle and skin with it, leaving my metacarpals sticking out like jagged teeth. The tendons of my hand stayed together together quite well, and flopping down towards my wrist… kinda like a sickly white tongue. My thumb is all but separated from my hand, hanging down swinging back and forth. “Well, fuck me. That’s gross. I guess it’d be quicker just to cut my fucking hand off and let my salamander super powers grow it back. Doc Thomas is gonna shit when he sees this though. Well, I wonder how my fire is doing?” I can’t help but grin as I look back at the mansion. I don’t think the whole thing will burn down since the interior and exterior walls were done with plaster, but the tower on the right will definitely have to be rebuilt. It looks like it’ll cave in any moment now, and I can only imagine how much smoke damage that will cause. I don’t believe that Mr. Mera would ever recover from this, even if I didn’t kill him… although that won’t matter for long. The creaking of wood breaks me out of my inner thoughts. As I look up, the tower starts to lean ever so slightly, then with a loud snapping sound, falls down into the story below. Just a few seconds after, I start hearing men scream and holler. It gets louder, until the front doors are thrown open. Out comes Mr. Mera, followed by Captain Mendez and two of the fancier dressed guards. “I don’t give a flying fuck Captain. I have been trapped in a fire before and have nearly burned alive because of it. I will sooner face this cocksucker burning my home down than any fire. I can decide when a simple man dies, but a fire won’t die until it’s damn good and ready.” I’m not sure why, I suppose the thought of Hybi forgetting me is part of it, but when he said he could decide when I died… I kinda lost it. The man was at least 30 yards away from me, an insane distance to try and shoot with a smoothbore flintlock, but I pull the same pistol I used to test the shield. I cock the hammer, pull the trigger, and wait until the powder in the pan ignites the main charge. During that wait, I had an uncontrollable urge to shift my aim just a couple millimeters to the left. I have no idea why, but once the pistol fired I was sure I was going to miss him. I mean, who shifts their aim as the gun fires? But, as the smoke cleared, there was Mr. Mera… his head obliterated by a lead ball from my pistol. Then it hits me. Smoothbore efficiency: The amount of experience you have firing smoothbore small arms has culminated into the ability to compensate for imperfections in a gun. The more you use a unique firearm, the better you can compensate for the imperfections. This perk’s efficiency is based on one's perception and agility. I did have that skill perk huh? I look back up, and the captain and guards are looking at me dumbfounded. Then, the captain breaks out of his stupor, and starts sprinting after me. “Shiiiiittttt, my job is done. I’m out!” I start sprinting down the hill after I through my last two firebombs at the Captain. I really do wish they were lit, but hell, maybe they’ll hit him in the head and knock him out. My thought was answered by a loud bang and musket ball flying through the undergrowth. “So much for hoping…”