The Boom Stick of Hellap

The first sea lord reclined in his oak chair, padded with leather and older than he was by some 200 years. Across his desk, diagrams for something never seen before were written on parchment. Flint appreciated the old ways of doing things. His brow was wrinkled as he sought a moment of solitude.

Suddenly, the cabin shook with such ferocity that the whole ship lurched to the port side, unseating a sack of gold coins, several charts and his cigars. Sirens wailed but there was no battle expected for another 2 hours.

“MR LEAF!!!” yelled Flint, “Find out what the hell that was…”

A battle-hardened man appeared briefly at the door, nodded and descended into the bowels of the ship, following the curious scent of sulphur and wisps of smoke, before bringing him to the private quarters of Hellap – or rather where those quarters should have been.

The quartermaster yelled for confirmation of any enemies – but there were none. Then Mr Leaf saw a hand, clinging to the outside wall. This became an arm, then a shoulder and then the unmistaken head of Hellap as she grinned with pride. Mr Leaf pulled her back inside, whereupon she removed her goggles and simply said: “I did it!”

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Life as a farmer and trader of antiquities took Hellap to the far reaches of the world, together with a fondness for tequila. Hellap was by no means a fighter and the mere thought of making things go boom bothered her immensely. If there was danger or people with sharp, pointy things, Hellap would turn and walk very quickly in the opposite direction.

Returning from the store to purchase tequila, Hellap was heading back home to her favourite garden where fireflies danced in the night, when two men, stepped across her path. One wore a hooded-cloak and disarmed her with a pleasant smile. The other was dressed in green with yellow squares and he carried some kind of dead animal which squawked whenever he moved his arms.

“Hello miss,” said the taller, more handsome man. “May I present Jeremy. He’s a pretty decent sort and we’re in need of your services. We believe you own something we’ve both been looking for.” The other man smiled a toothless grin. Well, not quite toothless, for there were bits of gold stuck in there. “You may call me Mr Grimm. Shall we walk you home?”

It wasn’t actually a question – more of a request where the answer could never be, “No, thank you.” They walked quite briskly, the man in green making some strangely alien sounds from whatever was slung under his arm. As they approached her home, Hellap gasped as the she saw more people in her garden. People wearing masks. People carry flamed torches. People running into her house with flamed torches. People taking the same flamed torches and tapping them against her curtains. Others trampled her garden and she faintly heard Mr Grimm unsheathe a sword and Jeremy began blowing into the dead animal which squawked even more, but in a slightly musical way. But Hellap was now experiencing something different. Something new. It wasn’t fear. It was rage. It was red mist and without thinking she launched the newly purchased bottle of tequila at the nearest figure carrying a flamed torch. The bottle smashed against his armour and within moments, he was engulfed in fire – his screams deafening. Mr Grimm and Jeremy went to Hellap’s aid, cutting and slashing at everything that moved. But it was to no avail. Hellap’s lifelong work was gone.

---

She beamed again at Mr Leaf. “I did it. I made a new boom stick for the Captain.” Mr Leaf nodded and turned away. “How did I get here?” he mused.