A Freed Slave: The Blackbird

Nestlee's eyes widened, full of coveting lust and fear as a figure appeared from within the bowels of a darkened, foggy pathway. The figure's red pupils pierced the darkness akin to the style of small red flames. One of the armored men held up an oil lantern, revealing the person the voice belonged to.

He had short, curly jet black hair, a discoloration within the pigment of his skin that was a mix of white and brown contrast that covered his whole body. There were scars up and down the man's arms. He wore dark-colored pants, and a bloodstained white shirt with leather carrier straps that ran over his shoulders.

As Nestlee looked at this man, who was marching towards the armored men, a realization hit him. The armored men weren't scared of this man due to some level of intimidating stature, as the man wasn't very tall, around five-eight if Nestlee's guess was right, nor were they scared of the iron-cast gauntlets on his hands, no, they were scared of the man himself as his eyes and facial expression projected the levels of violence he was capable of. 

"W-what in the nine hells are you!?" cried out one of the armored men, quivering in the tone of his voice. The man released steam from the gauntlet before his soul-piercing gaze fell upon his frightened prey. 

"I am the Blackbird, a warrior, and symbol hailing from an abysmal, dejected land. I am the Head of the Royal Guard in service to Prince Ryowolf Cithitsar... and I remain unphased by the lot of dead me cowering in fear ahead of me." Shortly after the Blackbird spoke, Nestlee and his crew watched as he punched hole after hole through the sternums of the armored men. 

The Blackbird went as far as to rip two of the men's beating hearts from their chests, only to make them watch as he crushed them saying, "Those against the prince, are those unworthy to live within this world." He made mincemeat of the once-confident men who had threatened Prince Ryowolf while the young prince, along with those he was protecting, went over and spoke to Nestlee. 

"Lord Nestlee Westerland... was it?" Prince Ryowolf said, struggling to stay on his feet from all of the injuries he'd sustained. "It's Lord Nestlee Westland of the Baharand Empire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness."

Ryowolf chuckled while holding his side. "I wasn't sure I'd make it if you and your crew wouldn't have gotten their attention. Thank you for that." Nestlee held up his hand, shaking his head. "No need to thank me, however, would you mind filling me in on what the hell is happening?" 

Prince Ryowolf nodded, explaining that all of this was due to the death of his father, the king. The nobles were all fighting to seize the throne... by any means necessary. The men the Blackbird was slaughtering with effortless ease were mercenaries hired to kill him, even if meant killing everyone in the vicinity of himself. 

"It's far worse than that I'm afraid.", started Blackbird, "and I'm going to slaughter them all." He clenched his iron gauntlet-covered fists, glaring in the direction of the castle, eyes locked on some distant memory of his scar-filled past. "Blackbird... I didn't free you because of your strength, I freed you because you stood up to me, and showed me just how wrong everything was about that situation.", Prince Ryowolf said trying to appeal to the former slave's humanity, "You are Blackbird, a warrior and symbol who will never be fettered again. You are the champion of the innocent, and..."

Blackbird snapped his glare onto the prince he served, "THERE ARE NO INNOCENTS! NOT ANYMORE! Anyone of them could've stood up and said they wouldn't behave like beasts anymore, but no, even those in the lower class want you marched into the center of the city draped in iron fetters, forced to kneel, beg for your life only for them to execute you. So no, Your Highness, I can not abide allowing a single one that comes near you to live."

Before either Blackbird or Price Ryowolf could speak again, First Officer Sud noticed an army of pitchforks and torches marching toward them. "Listen, I hate to say this as it's not my place, but... Lord Nestlee, why not bring them along with us? I can personally guarantee the SS Raven can outrun any ship this nation has. What says you, my lord?"

Nestlee nodded and took Prince Ryowolf's hand, "Come on! There's no sense in both of you dying!" Ryowolf looked to Blackbird with a nod. "Let's go." As the group, now including the Prince, the Blackbird, and the woman with her child, made their way toward the dock, the Blackbird pivot-spun to defend their rear. His fist was cocked back ready to fire off a punch as he yelled to the others, "WITCHES INCOMING!" Dark Magical spells came down like a volley of arrows as the Blackbird launched witch after witch into walls, buildings, and anything he could aim at, for this former slave was buying the group time. 

As he battles the witches, one appears beside him and starts aiding him. "What are you..." Started the Blackbird, but he was cut off by this cocky, short-haired witch, "I created the storm that forced your new friends to come here AND I forced the Prince to go into the city where he'd inevitably meet you. So shut up, fists up, and get me on that boat." The Blackbird shook his head but allowed her aboard. "SHE'S WITH US! CAST OFF!" 

As the Blackbird leaped aboard the now-leaving SS Raven, Nestlee maximized his arcane art by forcing more mana out of his body than he was taking in. He then forced hurricane-force winds into the sails of his ship launching them faster than any seafaring ship had the right to go. However, one thing Ryowolf hadn't realized... the nobles' airships. Cannons thundered from above them, launching enchanted cannonballs at the SS Raven, whose only defense was its speed, which had been matched. 

However, the nobles and prince had failed to realize something about the juggernaut of a former slave gone "strength-stacked" knight... He was a "unique" fire user. "Of my pain and past... ANCESTORS! HEAR ME AND MY WAR CRY! BEND THE WILL OF THE GOD OF SOLAR FIRE TO HEED MY RAGE!" The others aboard the ship watched as a pale orange-color liquid began rapidly swirling in a helix around his body. It smelled far stronger than the whale-fat oil they used within their lanterns. As he spoke the last of the incantation, he leaped into the air, making himself level with the airship, "COME FORTH! KEROSENE OF THE GODS!" As he landed on the ship's deck, an ocean-depth shade of blue flames engulfed every airship in the blink of an eye, snapping ropes and burning them to a crisp as the SS Raven raced deeper into uncharted waters. "Sorry, my prince, I couldn't stand the flies buzzing around us." The Blackbird said, kneeling with a smile on his face.