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Heroic History Lesson 101
(By: Soboscribe: Rsobo67@verizon.net)


    Another day of classes is underway at Paragon City University. The class is a History/Social study of world heroics. “Okay class, the majority of you are on board with the theory of super powered men and women being documented throughout history before the 1930s,” begins Professor Samuel Adamson. The professor quickly recaps the theory that such mythological beings like Hercules and the Greek gods as well as Thor and the gods of Norse mythology could be super powered humans.

    “There is a study taking place right now on campus, as a mater of fact that is trying to establish some magical talismans that predate the rise of the Circle of Thorns in the 1920s.”

    “Okay now we’re going to turn this a bit. Who can tell me what makes a hero a hero?” a few students raise their hand and Sam calls on a blonde girl in the second row. “Yes, Miss Leyman.” “Self sacrifice?” answers the student a bit unsure. “Good, sacrifice, willing to lay it all on the line for the greater good.” Says Professor Adamson as he writes the word SACRIFICE on the black board. “Any other ideas? Mr. Wartovski.” “Um, putting others ahead of your own needs.” “Okay, Civility or Civic Duty.” Responds Sam again putting the terms on the chalk board.

    “Oh I know, pick up chicks!” blurts out an enthusiastic student. The class breaks out into laughter.
    “Well I’m glad to see that you’re awake and actually showing interest in what is going on in class today. Mr. Thomson, but no I don’t think the hero is doing it as a pick up.” Laughs Sam. After a few more answers are debated, the professor steps to the side of the board.
    “So these few items up here are what separate the Statesmen from the Recluses. A simple summing, ethics. Real simple to define right? That’s what I’m going to challenge you with this grading period. Sometimes it’s not so simple to say who is a hero and who is not.”

    Sam walks over to a small cabinet and takes out an old battered journal. The professor holds up the book as he steps behind the podium.
 “Here’s a case to that point. This is a journal that has been with me for quite some time. It’s the personal journal of Nigel Connelly, a Privateer of the late 1700s.” Sam goes into a quick explanation that a Privateer was essentially a government sponsored pirate and that Connelly in particular was an Irish pirate in service to England that operated in the Caribbean.
“Wow just like the Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp movie.” “Well a little more realistic then the Disney movie, Mr. Thomson.” States Sam with another round of laughter in the class.
    “Connelly recounts the operations of a team of pirates that displayed rather unique abilities to accomplish their acts of piracy. The professor opens the book and thumbs through a few pages. “Here we go, Connelly writes: we have just been captured by the Spanish Galleon…

    … the Casa Del Pesar, translation the House of Sorrow. One of the most dreaded ships of the Spanish fleet. Captained by Hector Fernando Casabello who has claimed relation to Cortez himself. As I much feared, the only item keeping me and my companion Wyatt alive is my “license” to the King of England. And that will only be good for a few more minutes. Casabello is legendary for routing us pirates and the unspeakable acts of torture and death he has inflicted on the captured ones. The only black mark against him is that American pair that truly has the Devil on their side. Wait there seems to be some type of commotion coming from the deck above, like the Pesar is readying for some type of confrontation. From our holding cell my partner is trying to make out what is happening outside through a knot hole he finagled out of the hull
    my God, it’s the Liberty’s Dagger, always thought that an odd name for that unique Tartan with its pointed steel bow, no type of sail but yet move faster than the wind and its red, white, and blue Jolly Roger, this can only mean that the Bane of Casabello, the Rumrunner, is on the scene.
    Captain of the Liberty’s Dagger, the Rumrunner and his partner, the giant Cannonade, has been plundering the Spanish Armada for years. Casabello has had them in his gun sights more than once but has yet to hit the Dagger.
    Wyatt is getting frantic now. He says he can make out the giant figure of mountain sized man, who wields a cannon like a Flintlock, is taking aim at the ship. We can hear the sound and feel the ship rock from the cannons. Wait the Dagger is turning, its positioning itself to ram the Pesar and starting to pick up speed!

    Even standing on the deck of the Liberty’s Dagger I still can not believe the events that have transpired in the last few hours. The Dagger cleaved through Pesar, cutting her in two. The stern of the ship sank almost instantly, taking Captain Casabello and most of the crew with it. While the bow and aft section remained afloat despite the ocean pouring into the now exposed holds. The remaining crew must have been in such a state of panic to notice the ship was not sinking. Then I saw them, Rumrunner and Cannonade. The captain was an average built man with a rugged American appearance. The only curiosity to Rumrunner was a gold compass shaped medallion that seemed to have a faint but supernatural glow to it. Cannonade however was truly larger than life. He stood at least Eight feet tall and as broad shouldered as a Grizzly bear. Cannonade freed Wyatt and me by simply tearing the barred door off its hinges. That is when I was offered a place on the Dagger’s crew. Wyatt and I helped load the gold treasure, which seemed light as a feather, from the hold of the remainder of the ship and boarded the Dagger. The captain turned the ship to the west and I watched the rest of the Pesar slip into the depths of the sea. Rumrunner explained in greater detail the offer he had proposed to Wyatt and me. We were heading to a small group of islands just south of Florida. These islands are being used as refuge for escaped slaves and are under the protection of a very mysterious group that is secretly working to abolish slavery in the America.
    Rumrunner says that the gold taken from the Spanish is being returned to its rightful owners in return for supplies and tools for the island.

    Wyatt has opted to return to England while I have become quite taken by the undertaking of bringing down this corruption to human decency. Cannonade has secured safe passage for Wyatt on a Dutch trader ship that seems to take every word he says with great humility. But I guess with a man the size of Cannonade, who first threw a cannon ball twice the length of your ship you would guarantee a person’s safe passage through Hell itself and back again.


    “The journal goes on to tell how Connelly was awarded a set of mystical armbands that allowed him to project fire from his hands. He took the name of Belenus, the Celtic god of light and was taken to a secret island where supposedly the Fountain of Youth is to be found.” As the students take in the story and start talking among themselves, Thomson raises his hand,
    “Hey professor, how did Captain Rumrunner power his boat?” Sam replies as he puts the journal away. “Gravity. It’s speculated that Rumrunner would be considered a gravity controller by today’s hero archetypes.” “That’s obvious Thom, come on the ship not sinking, gold light as a feather, and the Dagger moving without sails faster than the sailboats. Push me, pull me, classic controller, and Cannonade, tanker all the way.” “Well it seems some of you have already decided already that the crew of the Liberty’s Dagger are heroes. And that, perfect seg-way, is your assignment for the week.” Say the professor as he starts to erase the board. “I would like a report on your opinion on the hero ethics and specifically how those ethics may or may not relate to the crew of the Liberty’s Dagger as heroes.” With that class is dismissed and Sam Adamson packs up his teaching bag. The professor cuts across campus enjoying the sunny spring day as he heads for his office. Thanks to his abundant wealth, professor Adamson’s office is situated on the first floor of a townhouse, the rest serving as his home.

    The professor enters into his den and relaxes into his easy chair as he studies an antique glass decanter. He studies the clear liquid that rests in near empty decanter. Sam sits back and takes in the room. He is staring as a very unique cannon displayed in the center of the large room. Resting in its glass display case, the cannon is of a 1700 design but with a handle, almost like a pistol grip built in near the back of the cannon. The professor then pulls out a medallion shaped like an ancient compass and drifts off into reverie.

    A knock on his door snaps him back to reality. Sam is greeted by a sight of some very old friends as he answers the door. Standing outside is a young red haired man who sports a pair of gold armbands that are encrusted with two large rubies. If one was to look deep into the rubies, one would swear that you could see flames inside them. The man standing behind the red head blocks out the sun with his eight foot frame. The two enter Sam’s home.
    “Still teaching the youth of America that heroes come in all types of styles and not easily spotted, or spouting out old pirate tales, Rum.” “It’s been a long time since I went by that name. It’s great to see you two and John, you sure don’t stick out quite so much these days. I think some carry bigger guns than you ever did.” Jokes Sam as he ushers his friends into the den. “I’ll say, we ran across a lady that could match ole Johnny boy here muscle for muscle.” Jokes Nigel as he takes down three crystal goblets. “I see we’ll need to take our trip to the island soon.” Nigel pours out the drinks from the decanter. “Here’s to Truth, Justice, and the Heroic way.” Toasts Sam as the three drink the goblets and taste the ice cold sweet fluid from the Fountain.

The End



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